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about

I have to walk over the freeway on my way to the bus stop. Some days that winds up being a bigger effort than others. When I start imagining myself being picked up by the wind and blown over the fence and down into the path of oncoming traffic, it often helps to count. Something about being focused on the numbers and not the dark fantasy, maybe.

lyrics

the overpass approaches so I start to fortify
my mind before the fear of falling can disrupt my stride
just seven stars burn hot enough to show up in the sky
the rest in an electric blanket bundle up and hide

the chain-link fence though anchored deep in masses of concrete
seems less substantial than the wisps of softly glowing cloud
and though my eyes report a solid path beneath my feet
I feel my body falling toward traffic crushing and loud

I’m not counting footsteps, but my footsteps keep the beat
I’m not counting seconds left to get across this street
I’m not counting cars as they roar past on the freeway
the numbers just weigh down my head so it doesn’t fly away

halfway across the bridge I find I’m frozen in one spot
each car that rolls beneath me sends a tremor through my knees
I start to count, one, two, three, four to block out panicked thought
the permanence of numbers forms a lifeline I can seize

I’m not counting footsteps, but my footsteps keep the beat
I’m not counting seconds left to get across this street
I’m not counting cars as they roar past me far below
I just hold on to the numbers to pull free of vertigo

credits

from Better Luck Next Year, released December 4, 2020
An original photo by Sheep purple was used to create the cover art (CC BY 2.0): commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sculpture_of_Hamlet_(detail).jpg

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Timothy Patrick Hinkle Millcreek, Utah

Lofi DIY psychedelic folk singer. Guitars strummed. Kazoos hummed. General thrumming.

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