Worry the True Kind

by Pastimer

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01:09
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03:39
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02:30

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Recorded by Pastimer & Jorg Kruckel
Mixed by Pastimer & Eben Hoffer
Words & music by Andrew Frank

credits

released April 25, 2014

Andrew Frank: Guitars, Vocals, Bass, Cello, Keys
Sean Ryan: Drums, Keys, Backing Vocals
Genevieve Chapin: Backing Vocals

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Pastimer New York

Andrew Frank, Sean Ryan, Genevieve Chapin. Brooklyn, NY.

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Track Name: All the Ways It Comes
All the ways it comes
All your bones carved by the sun
All the ways I've run
Fled the great sound of the gun

I see farther now than ever
Tall trees falling from the way

I knew it was bad
When all I could do was
Row cross the lake and back
I knew I was I glad
When the walls all rose
And painted the yard in black

All the ways it comes
All your bones carved by the sun
All the ways I've run
Fled the long love of the one

You were a desert's light
A piece of the way
Into night
If I saw better
Would I see
The night cease at once

I knew it was bad
When all I could do was
Row cross the lake and back
I knew I was I glad
When the walls all rose
And painted the yard in black
Track Name: Hide Yourself
Hide yourself from condescension
Hide yourself in other cities
All's well, Annabelle
All's well, Annabelle

Hide yourself from expectations
Hide your eyes in open spaces
All's well, Annabelle
All's well, Annabelle

Steal my home, its decorations
Take my lies, their iterations
All's well, Annabelle
All's well, Annabelle

Drive across town
Warm spring
I can't let it sit
Empty
Drive out to the sound
You were there with me

How can I release this worry
Where will life ease its hurry
All's well Annabelle
All's well Annabelle
Track Name: Weather Vane
Drawn around you
The shouts cleft the floor
Tiles abandon their patterns

Each day, a shelter
And I can tell you're bored
I guess it's a symptom

Wherever it goes
I feel it turning away
From my fleet of words

Weathervane
Spin in place
Weathervane
Spin in place

Wind and rain
Never came

Weathervane
Spin in place
Turn away
From the sound

Crowds below you
Dissolve into gray
The iron burns through the mattress

Each night a different
Town drifts away
And you see through the letters

Wherever you go
I feel you turning away
From my fleet of words

Weathervane
Spin in place
Weathervane
Spin in place