Disappearing Acts

from by Simon Balto

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lyrics

Autumn evenings in Winona used to bring me to my knees,
With Waylon's "Good Hearted Woman" on the radio, and the north wind in the trees.
As your hands they mapped my chest, your hair splashed on the bed,
The fading sunlight angling through the window, turning us a dusty red

You've been coming back in focus lately, resurrecting bones from graveyard ash,
And though no one's promised nothing, maybe this time no disappearing acts

Twenty-three years on the road in America, it'll drive a man insane.
I slept in churches and basements and brothels, but every bed it felt the same.
I sought out liquor stores with early morning hours and the cheapest roadside bars,
And tried not to think of autumns in Winona -- the Midwest canopy of stars.

You've been coming back in focus lately, resurrecting bones from graveyard ash.
And though no one's promised nothing, maybe this time no disappearing acts.

Most of the dark that was in me now has gone away, my darling can't you see;
Most of the dark that was in me now is locked away, Magdalene.

And there's crow's feet in your eyes now, when I catch you in the mirror,
But a new lilt inside your voice suggests it might be OK if I stay here.
These autumn evenings in Winona, they might be the death of me'
But they too might be light -- we'll just have to wait and see.

And you've been coming back in focus lately, resurrecting bones from graveyard ash.
And though no one's promised nothing, maybe this time no disappearing acts.

credits

from Murmurations, released August 5, 2016

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Simon Balto Indianapolis, Indiana

Alt-folk. Midwest. Big voice, full heart, can't lose.

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