Third Person from Lost. by The History of a Family

i don't remember the way my face looked as a child
so it's strange i've come to know this smiling figure as myself
not some double in my clothes
because if i'm the culmination of goings on and happenstance
wouldn't i cling to my identity instead of giving it away?
wouldn't i keep my feelings in first person perspective instead of slipping away?

it happens every day now: am i the blond and frightened boy
or the old man who's saying his prayers?
so pictorial and distant how is it that you are human
and not some remnant of a future meant for me?
because it looks like we'll be meeting up on the hill above the city in 20 years.
that is if i can still call you a friend.

i've remembered this old feeling from younger days and dizzied memories
waiting for sleep and postponing the morning (mourning)
finding shapes upon the ceiling and telling stories to myself
about the future that i'm gonna have now.
could it be that i was dreaming and have been since?
because my mind feels just like someone's old photo album.

• Folk
• Salem OR
• ambient
• experimental
• fuzz
• lo-fi
• Oregon