Vandaveer Music
 

Dig Down Deep (2011)

All lyrics by Mark Charles Heidinger except “Spite” by Mark Charles Heidinger & Scott Fields and “As A Matter Of Fact” by Mark Charles Heidinger & Robbie Roberts

01 dig down deep.

dig down deep, don’t fold… for the faintest wind might blow you off your mark, off your game… and soil your old man’s good name… hoist your head, don’t weep… or a terrible storm might sweep you out to sea… that big black sea will lay you down to sleep…

when the soldiers circle ‘round and round… and the trumpeter’s horn blows a deafening sound… you plant your feet, you stand your ground, while the bricks you laid come crumbling down from head to toe, covered up in dust like jericho… then you shed your skin down to your bones… you know a house don’t make a home if you build it all alone… that’s just a hollow skeleton of sticks and stones…

left, right, left, we’ll march… to the pounding beat of our hearts… and the battle will rattle the earth down to its core till we forget just what we’re fighting for… the sun will rise in the east… and the crimson stream at your feet will calm and recede… it will bathe and stain… and by the grace of god we can start again…

02 concerning past & future conquests.

cherry blossoms dancin’ in the wind… whistlin’ a tune… the same key I’m in…

I gotta go, got to keep marchin’ on… to the beat of a detuned kettle drum… it rattles and creaks like my broken feet… stumblin’ down avenues and dusty old streets… well, I wanna walk ‘em all, I’m gonna walk ‘em all…

them iowa turbines, they’re ropin’ in the wind… kinda like this state I’m in… calm and quiet, and blowin’ off steam… time to sleep, they got time to dream… I dream about you constantly… side by side, you next to me… well, I wanna have it all, I’m gonna have it all…

I never really thought things would pan out this way… I must confess, I never really paid it any mind… I spent a lot of time mapping out future conquests… I guess I never really thought I’d find the time to cross the line…

rowing over northern waters, angry and gray will make a man feel twice his age… I stand at the corner of two dead ends… one dies where the other one begins… I’ll castle my king with my crumbling rook… I’ve pawned every rule in that worn out book… now I’m gonna bend ‘em all… hell, I’m gonna break ‘em all…

03 beat, beat, my heart.

I wanna live in a crooked house… all bent to hell, flipped over, inside out… four wayward walls… and a dim-lit hallway that’s always calling… softly asking me to open each and every door… where the creaking of the floorboards unsettles dusty scores… where every haunting threshold I cross I learn more…

I wanna love with this crooked heart… all beat to hell, skipped over, charged with sparks… four wayward chambers pumped full of danger… I’ll wager my fate for a glimpse of technicolor love… oh, enough with all these grays and shades of damp malaise…I’d rather die drying out every crawlspace in this maze…

beat, beat, my heart…

I wanna see straight with these crooked eyes… the truest blacks, the brilliant blinding whites… for every morning I wake in a muddy haze, I’ll make my case for a minor miracle I might procure from out beyond the pale… where the waiting tips the finest scales, beyond all reasonable compare… where every single sense you’ve ever had is a momentary flare…

beat, beat, my heart…

04 the great gray.

oh, death is here… yes, death is here… oh, death is here… the great gray… the great gray… yes, death is here… the big nothing… no big deal… no deal at all… so, death is here… yes, death is here… oh, death is here… nothing to speak of… nothing to say… hail, hail, the great gray!

so, death is here… yes, death is here… oh no, death is here… the great gray… it’s the great gray… yes, death is here… the big nothing… no big deal… no deal at all…

so, death is here… yes, death is here… oh, death is here.

05 as a matter of fact.

loose cannons fired at will… aim at anything dear to get my fill… I pushed all the right buttons… sharpened all the wrong skills… I’ve picked the prettiest poisons and I’ve swallowed the pill… as a matter of fact I have a habit of taking things to the furthest reaches and immediately pleading to begin again…

friendly fire… rusty guns for hire… come warm your hands at the pyre I built… all the things I’ve killed are stacked up for miles… we’re forever climbing to the top of the pile… as a matter of fact I have a habit of pushing things up mighty mountains and doubting the great fall again…

loose cannons fired at will… aim at everything near to get my fill… I’ve flooded the trenches… I’ve bloodied the hills… I’ve scattered the ashes and shattered all goodwill…

as a matter of fact I have a habit of halving things into tiny pieces and immediately pining for the whole again…

06 the nature of our kind.

it was half past I can’t say when… we’d been to hell and back in one weekend… death was a dimwitted soul… lo! but he wasn’t grim… I asked if we could meet again… some other time, another place… oh no, I wasn’t cheating… just the nature of competing… I was simply twisting fate… the new moon dripped a steady stream… I knelt and washed my face… caught the last train north, way up north, with a cold wind giving chase… oh, the night was clear, the air was crisp and clean… the great beyond all pistol black, the white serene… oh, when morning broke we woke to such a scene!

I stumbled ‘round for days and days… I walked my shadow into the ground… I stirred the waking sun, but I was not the only one with bloody fists or blistered tongue… a thousand points of light cut through the great storm in the sky… sunbeams somersaulting down at twice the speed of light… with hands crisscrossed, all the clocks on the walls told different times… and the cheap red wine splayed all the tiny fragments in my mind…

oh, the caterwaul of crooked little chimes ringing out of tune, yes, ringing out of time… oh, the symphony! the cracking of the trees… the crashing of the waves… the quaking underneath our feet… all in perfect pitch and key… just the nature of our kind…

07 spite.

I once knew a man who learned such a thing… he cut off his hand to spite his ring… he poisoned the well to spite the frogs… he put down his son to spite the dog… he cut out his sleep to spite his dreams… he picked all the flowers to spite the bees… he burned his bible to spite the Lord… took a day off to lick his wounds… I heard him swear, “life is such a wretched affair… I’m gonna hold my breath to spite the air…”

he drained the canal to spite the fish… he flooded the land to spite the bridge… he dug up the hills to spite the sky… and tore out his tongue to spite the lies… he cut down the trees to spite the shade… he laid her to rest to spite the life they’d made… he burned his bible to spite the lord… took a day off to lick his wounds… I heard him swear, “life is such a cursed affair… I’m gonna hold my breath… no, I’m gonna stop breathing to spite the air.”

08 pick up the pace.

how many times have you opened your eyes, afraid what you’ll find hiding behind you? you always seemed refrained… walking along, dressed for the part… how many years in the making? you never questioned your heart? what’s inside? what’s the harm? can you hear me when I say pick up the pace?

so you carry on with story and song, with what’s right and what’s wrong… we’ve all heard it before… might as well keep your head to yourself… cancel your plans, wash your hands… don’t look back, you know better… you know what you’re going to find… and you’re better off leaving it all behind… can you hear me when I say pick up the pace? it ain’t a race, but you’ve got to stop worrying about saving your face… there ain’t no game to be played…

as the years go by and the tears dry, you won’t feel the need to be so crass… you’ll understand, and we’ll be better off—you and me—man to man… so sit quietly, don’t say a word… you’ll still be heard… and it will all make perfect sense in the end… can you hear me when I say pick up the pace?

09 AOK.

I’ve got to get out… I’ve got to get out of this city for just one day, for just one night… please understand, I’ll be alright… I’ll be a-ok, a-alright… I’ll spread my wings, I’ll take my maiden flight tonight…

I’ve got to get home… I’ve got to get home in a hurry for just one day, for just one night… my head feels clear, feels screwed on tight… I feel a-ok, out of sight… raise your open arms, I’ll land tonight… and if my heavy heart should open wide, I’ll touch down by your side… right by your side…

I’ve got to be strong… so strong… I’ve got to be strong and determined for one more fray, for one more fight… my sword is drawn, my helmet’s tight… I feel a-ok, swift and sprite… the battle line’s been drawn with blood and might… it’s so bright… so very bright…

I’ll find a place where I can bury my head in the sand… a slowly sinking piece of land… down by the sea… I’ll be at peace, down by the sea… I’ll be at peace under the sea… and if my heavy heart should open wide, I’ll surface by your side… right by your side…

10 the waking hour.

last night we died a fiery death… you took a stray arrow dead-center in the chest… the blood ran thick… we fled quickly for the antidote… I beat my wings till they melted from my shoulder bones… don’t curse the sun, he’s made for burning…

we fell from space, out of good graces, in a tailspin dive… we flew full circle in the blink of that hurricane’s eye… the waves came fast, they came in spades with no warning sign… we made quite a splash with both the damned and the sanctified… we weren’t cursed or blessed, rain’s made for falling hard…

lay me down… fare me well… please let me rest for a minor spell… time won’t heal, but it may well tell which wounded dreams the waking hour felled…

we stood stone-still at the base of mighty case of stairs… stared straight up, searched for signs… such a steep affair… from that lonely perch the earth looked stunned, just spinning scared… and the higher we climbed the more we doubted what we were doing there… don’t curse your heart, it’s made for turning… on…

lay me down… fare me well… please let me rest for a minor spell… time won’t heal, but it may well tell which wounded dreams the waking hour felled… lay me down… safe and sound… please stay the bell till the final round… time won’t heal, but it will tick down… the waking hour crashes to the ground….