When the Sun Is Gone

by Lee Bones

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released June 11, 2014

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Lee Bones Brooklyn, New York

Lee Bones and the Best play wild eyed cosmic music--swirling organ and razor melodies with the swing of the country behind it. Building on the foundation of Lee Bones' trove of lo-fi recordings, Lee teamed up with Josh Hahn, Nolan Gardner, and Eric Silberberg to make their first full-length album--out this fall! ... more

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Track Name: When the Sun Is Gone
When the sun is gone
Will the flowers still dance in the moonlight?
Will there even still be any moonlight
Or flowers when the sun is gone?

Will the stars be thieves?
And claim their right to seed the void?
Or will they darken in their grief
When the sun is gone?

When the sun is gone
When the sun is gone
Will the chronicle document history
When the sun is gone?

When the song is done
Will the words still hang on your teeth?
Will the melody arc through the memory
When the song is done?

Will the ears be pleased?
Will the mind believe?
Will there be inscrutable notions left behind
When the song is done?

When the song is done
When the song is done
Will the singer feel like he just told a lie
When the song is done?
Track Name: Lamps
One two three four five
Dim dull yellow live
In a row the lit up lamps
Luminous obscurity

They dance each in a cage
Project at such a range
Surround them with the sun
And light will stifle light

To put it another way
If seen in the proper shade
Then more of it
Need not be made

So see distant rows above
Though unclear they are enough
In a row the lit up lamps
Luminous obscurities

They dance each in a cage
Project at such a range
Surround them with the sun
And light will stifle light
Track Name: It's Tuesday
It's Tuesday
And every last wisp of a dull dream
Has made its way out of my dull brain
The only thing left is
The strong sound of my stomach growling

Sometimes
This mood sinks down on me just like
A capsized catapult launching
A missile of appetite
Leaving a hole of appetite

And you don't know it
But when I make drinks for us
There's always more whiskey in mine
And if it's not for tolerance and not for pride
Then why do I bother with the lie?
Well you might as well ask
Whatever happened to being content

With a deep breath
I ready myself for a big day
That's the name I give to the panic
Of every encounter that
Drags me from my gluttony

But don't hate
Don't hate the hedonist
Don't hate
Don't hate the hedonist
Don't hate
He's only eating the fat crumbs
Of the perfect mind

And he doesn't know it
But when drinks are brought to us
There's always more whiskey in his
And if it's not for a reason
And it's not determined
Then why do they bother to lie?
Well you might as well ask
Whatever happened to being content
With a deep breath?
Track Name: Spider's Silk
After all the loving had gone
Remaining Pity
Made a pair of souls in the shape
Of empty bottles

Pity played a wondrous tune
Upon these bottles
Differences of volume and air
Sang separate tunings

Maybe he made fools of them both
That pathos vendor
Bragging all the way to the bank

Spider's silk is still soft
Spider's silk is so soft
I can't even take it off
I won't take it off
You wear it as a heart
Or as a scarf
But don't take it off

Turning back to look at the pair
Of empty bottles
You know the ones I mentioned before
In the first verse

Pity felt that he'd had enough
Of this poor pair
Left them by the side of the road
Drained and forgotten

Maybe he made fools of them both
That pathos vendor
Bragging all the way to the bank

Spider's silk is still soft
Spider's silk is so soft
I can't even take it off
I won't take it off
Wear it as a heart or as a hat
Or as a sock
Or as a scarf
Don't take it off
Track Name: Quietly
Quietly the radical
Quietly traditional
Why won't he speak up?
Speak a little bit louder
Speak up
Speak a little bit louder
Give up just a touch of thunder

It's three o'clock in the afternoon
The same dull light through the same dull window
Yes but he's drinking wine alone in some apartment
Having a ball

He's whispering a melody
A stillborn symphony
Cause he won't speak up
Speak a little bit louder
Speak up
Speak a little bit louder
Give up just a touch of thunder

He's thinking always of the times
When people heard him clear
Instead of unconditional love
In their judge and jury eyes
They pitied him they pitied him
They pity him still

It's quite a game if you play the rules
But this gaunt contender
Sings that he doesn't trust a soul
Who isn't paralyzed with doubt

And what kind of strategy is that
When the field is full of play
Still he won't speak up
Speak a little bit louder
Speak up
Speak up just a little bit louder
Give up just a touch of thunder

Maybe I have missed the mark
Would he trust me? I don't care
He's just a fragment – that's all he is
He's just a fragment – he's part of a whole

And quietly the radical
Quietly traditional
He won't speak up
Speak a little bit louder
Speak up
Speak a little bit louder
Give up just a touch of thunder

He's thinking always of the times
When people heard him clear
Instead of unconditional love
In their judge and jury eyes
They pitied him they pitied him
They pity him still
Track Name: Maintenance
The saxophone lies in its case
Accumulating rust
Its keys are stuck down in their place
I open up the box

At moments when I'm thunderstruck
But generally the locks
Are locked and I have no great luck

You see the problem is exposed
The day to day – the maintenance
Just can't compare to happenstance
I'll leave the hammer – take the lance

The love I have so patiently
It sits inside its chest
The key to which is memory
But that is hard to see

Cause only with adrenaline
Does memory agree
And even then it's with chagrin

You see the problem is exposed
The day to day – the maintenance
Just can't compare to happenstance
I'll leave the hammer – take the lance

The wits I have they frighten me
They have capacity
But doubt is such a little thing
It's smaller than a flea

And that infernal word ahead
It spells out L-E-E
How will I teach what I've read?

You see the problem is exposed
The day to day – the maintenance
Just can't compare to happenstance
I'll leave the hammer – take the lance
Track Name: There Must Be A Reason
You're always pretending to know
Things that you know nothing about
Why do you do that?
Why do you do that?

There must be a reason
There must be a reason

You don't even care what I think of you
So tell me why don't you take off your clothes
Why don't you do that?
Why don't you do that?

There must be a reason
There must be a reason

Feathers are singeing the sky
Every wall around you lights up in reply
Why don't you like this?
Why don't you like this?

If there is one scrap of animal
Lust left inside your bottomless corpse
Why don't you rouse it?
Why don't you rouse it?

There must be a reason
There must be a reason
Track Name: Missing Mirrors
Could he think in other terms
Than his own aphoristic tones?
He only wanted fiction
Lucid and precise
To speak of one particular
He tried but it did not suffice

So he said:
"Vanity precedes all judgment –
Aesthetic and pathetic.
Fools look outside
Missing mirrors
In sublimity."

He could not pass by a surface
That reflected back at him
Without a confirmation
That his nose still trembled out
That his brow still furrowed in
That his hair still curled about

And he said:
"Vanity precedes all judgment –
Aesthetic and pathetic.
Fools look outside
Missing mirrors
In sublimity."

How he did I do not know
But once he met an acrobat
She was like him
She was born in shade
From there she could see the lake
And witness herself for her sake

She said:
"Vanity precedes all judgment –
Aesthetic and pathetic.
Fools look outside
Missing mirrors
In sublimity."

When he finally got home
The front door fell off right away
Inside only ruins
Most alarmingly of all
There were mirrors shattered everywhere
And written on the wall it read

It read:
"Vanity precedes all judgment–
Aesthetic and pathetic.
Fools look outside
Missing mirrors
In sublimity."
Track Name: We Look at Youth and We See Potential
We look at youth and we see potential
Just what will be
All the promise – it is promised
And it will be

But then we turn to look at the aged
See what we see?
All the words they have not kept to
We all can see

And even when we look in the mirror
That warped and dirty mirror
The sands of time
They chafe in our trousers

Well she's a woman bearing the battle
Across her knees
And I'm a man wearing the saddle
Of prophecies

Her jawbone does not line up
There's not enough slack
And my life is a soft shoe paddle
In a hardwood shack

And even when we look in the mirror
That warped and dirty mirror
The sands of time
They chafe in our trousers

Ten mountains might not move us an inch
But seven could – yeah seven certainly could
We went swimming in the pool of a palace one time
We left mud on the ground
But better not better not pay too much attention
Or the clamor might push you around

We look at youth and we see potential
Just what will be
All the promise – it is promised
And it will be

But then we turn to look at the aged
See what we see?
All the words they have not kept to
We all can see
Track Name: This Is the Life
This is the life
I can’t remember strife anymore
It’s a murmuring in the back of my head
This is the life

Yeah this is the life
Fear is only an hour away
And that’s just enough time for the span of a game
This is the life

I thought it was a wax candle
Burning at a steady pace
But now I do what I feel like doing
And I’m beating up old clichés
I’m eating up papier-mâché
And I’m reading a play a day

This is the life
All I think about is how many books
That I’ll never read even if I get very old
This is the life

So this is the life
I prefer the sound of simple things
In a silver frame trimmed with apples and vines
This is the life

I thought it was a wax candle
Burning at a steady pace
But now I do what I feel like doing
And I’m beating up old clichés
I’m eating up papier-mâché
And I’m reading a play a day

Take me to the Hagia Sophia
If you don’t let me go
I will engage you in a tantrum
Don’t think I won’t
Please take me to the Hagia Sophia

This is the life
I’m sorry I will never say that again
It got out of me it was just a flash in the pan