i don't need the stones

by boo boo cubby

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04:19
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credits

released December 15, 2018

all songs written and performed by sam rodewald
mastering by MysteryRoomMastering
cover design by Jenie Gao Studio LLC | jenie.org

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boo boo cubby Milwaukee, Wisconsin

boo boo cubby is the compulsion of a classically trained singer and composer named sam rodewald.boo boo cubby is set on exploring this temporary and elusory life through music and art or whatever, before it catches up to him.

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Track Name: an old man
An old man sat in his chair with the flickering TV’s blue glare.
The light hurt his eyes but the sound was like someone was there.
The blanket he pulled to his chin the fibers felt course on his skin.
Well, he kept the heat high, but it always felt cold to him

Tired he’ll just rest his eyes for a while;
Head tilted back, Jaw fallen slack.
Achy, he’ll just rest his feet for a while;
The varying depth of his lengthening breath.

Lightly tremoring hands tightly gripping the pan,
He’s not used to the work, but he’s doing the best that he can.
Set the table and pray. They always did it this way.
And he never said much, now alone he has so much to say.

The old man leans back in his chair and he sighs,
The click of the plate as the silverware scrapes.
Absently leans on his elbows and sighs.
He ate what he can, but the flavor is bland.

Now he has trouble sleeping at night. He just can’t get the temperature right.
And he’ll toss and he’ll turn and he’ll pace till the dull morning light.
So the old man sits in his chair with the flickering TV’s blue glare.
The light hurt his eyes, but the sound was like no one was there.

Head tilted back. Jaw fallen slack
The varying depth of his lengthening breath.
Track Name: a soul's release
The Farmer wiped his brow and bowed his head.
“I fear the frost is coming early,” he said,
“the stink of famine’s finally left the field,
But winter’s nipping closely at our heels.”

The Farmer’s wife rolled over in her bed
Her barren belly swollen longing to be fed.
The fever gripped her in the cold of night.
Her fingers gripped the pillow till her knuckles white.

The Farmer kneeled beside their bed to pray “dear God, teach me what to say.
“With my hands, I tilled the mud, by my sweat, by my blood.
“I was honest, I was fair, but You have lead me to despair.
“so let your servant die in peace and grant a wicked soul release.”

They found the Farmer kneeling in the cold
His beard and hair were white from falling ash and snow.
“So He gives,” he mutters, “so He takes.”
The flaming farmhouse falls before the morning breaks.
Track Name: outside alone
He played outside alone with his branch bayonet and a pocket full of stones
In cardboard clad armor he stood wielding his weapons as walked into the wood.
Perched in a lonely pine, feathers aflutter, flustered, struggling to speak her mind.
A scared little sparrow she sings. Whistles a warning to this warrior out wandering.

Brave boy now bold and brash bade the unfriendly forest fold and simply let him pass
Then brushed up against a thorn. And its quick, poisoned prick that left his t-shirt torn.

And he woke with all manner of creatures all leering and laughing
All crying for blood from this bold, cocksure boy caught trespassing.
And there on a throne, thatched thicket, thorny with thistles,
Sat the King of the forest, scepter stretched soiled and bristled
And the King was a cricket crowned with crocuses, acrid and wilting.
And with one damning stroke of his scepter, was the boy sentenced: Guilty.

They led him gagged and bound, spat in his face as they gathered all around.
Fanning the fire so high that the flames licked his feet, tongues tickled torment as the rise.

Over the creatures cries hear the sweet scared sparrow singing in the evening sky
And so tiny little bird lands lightly on the boys slouched shoulders unheard.

And she quickly unwinds from the boys wrists the twine that has bound him,
But before she takes flight, the scared sparrow is sighted and felled to the ground.
And the animals cackle content with their catch at this carcass strewn, crumpled all covered in ash.
And the boy watched in horror with tears in his eyes as he drew his dagger and let his stones fly
And swinging his saber, he severed the heads of the animal horde leaving all of them dead,
But the cricket king cowered at the small boy’s stick sward as he offered his scepter, his throne,
And his word
With bitter pity, boy lowered his hand as he thrust wretched king with a leaf in a rusty tin can.

As he parts from the trees nursing nicked knees
Clutching his cricket in the warm summer breeze
His tummy, tight, aches as his hunger awakes.
He sheds sheathe and armor, lets character break.

He played outside alone with his branch bayonet and a pocket full of stones.
Track Name: i don't need the stones
I let the Devil take my hand. He led me here to see the land
“Doesn’t it look beautiful from where we stand?
“You could have it all. You just have to be my man.”

I let the devil take me home and he filled my pockets full of stones.
He told me, “people bow to fear.
“I’ll have them eating from your hands here.”

No, no. No, no.
I don’t need the stones, I don’t need the land.
I don’t need to hold myself above another man.
This is all I know, now I just want to hold myself up on my own
So stay out, stay out of my house
Stay out, stay out of my house.

I heard the Devil at my door.
He knocked once, then knocked once more.
“I hear your footsteps on the floor.
“I’ve waited this long, what’s a little more?”

No, no. No, no.
I don’t need the stones, I don’t need the land.
I don’t need to hold myself above another man.
This is all I know now I just want to hold myself up on my own
So stay out, stay out of my house
Stay out, stay out of my house.
Track Name: we ate and we knew
Under the leaves of the old apple tree.
Under the leaves of the old Apple Tree.
Exploring each other, we blushed at the sight of our bodies.
And the fruit tasted sweet that fell at our feet so we ate.
And we knew one another.

Suddenly two knew.
Suddenly two knew what only God knew.
we saw one another, and blushed at the sight of our bodies.
But pain and the toil of birth and the soil
And enmity borne between brothers

We could not believe the browning of the leaves,
Gold and orange like fire, from the garden we retired.

The blush of the sky as the evening sun dies.
The blush of the sky as the son dies.
Will make the world tremble and cover the sight of our bodies.
But find we relief by our groans from our grief
And rest at the breast of this temple.

But the fruit tasted sweet that fell at our feet,
So we ate, and we knew one another.

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