Bee In A Bubble

by Julian Cartwright

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02:28

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released November 19, 2016

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Julian Cartwright New Jersey

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Track Name: Security
Security:
A matching set of dishes, kids, and cats.
That’s washing a craft beer down with a Pabst.
That’s believing that what you love will last.

Security.
No one can top your technique.
Life story: geek to chic,
going to the car wash for the second time this week.

Security-- the illusion that you’ll never get sick.
Security-- you built your life brick by brick.
Security-- the feeling that you won’t have to say goodbye,
the illusion that you’ll never die.

Security.
You got a husband, wife,
dream home and a Ginsu knife.
Worked out the all the issues that you had with your sex life.

Security.
You shut the door and lock your mind,
so sure that someone walks behind.
He’s not your soul mate,
but you will find him in time.

Security-- to expect that you won’t get burned
Security-- to presume that you’ll get what you’ve earned.
Security-- in college that’s what you learned:
the illusion that your luck will never turn.

Security:
You assuming that the past was correct.
Amending it when you think it’s best.
The freedom to go berserk
cause a protecting force is at work.

Security.
You’ve got a gun and credit.
If you go bankrupt you can pawn or sell it.
Till then you will wear white pearls and black velvet.

Security-- the illusion that ignorance is bliss.
Security-- if you get bored, you can always call it quits
Security-- next time, you’ll be out on your ass.
It’s here but it’s going fast.

Security.
Track Name: Possible Hideaways
Writing in bed,
observing a bobsled of imagined friends
as it whips around my head.
Emptied pens
lie in between
old postcards and dried carnations
on the left of my bed.

And I want to wake up on the morning of a day
that is naturally gray,
no one’s died while you’re on your way,
and you’re ignoring all my queries
into possible hideaways.

And I want to wake up,
check the listings
and think of my long-lost friend
who taught me to buck the system
and I’m gonna miss him all over again.

Yes, I’m going back again.
Into a quantum haze.
Instead of dignifying memories,
I just look back on college days.

And I want to wake up on that morning
On the porch of the house we shared.
A sullen mist is on Tappan Square
and you’re ignoring all my talk
of possible crosses to bear.

And it is my sober yearning
to reach the end of this year
and conclude that life’s perfection
is reading under the stairs.

But the pleasures of the bachelor are wearing thin.
I’m done with savoring failure, but too scared to win.
And I wonder what kind of trouble I think I am in.

From the gutter to the doorway, chanting endless times.
The rest of the time spinning friendless rhymes,
and plotting a surer way.

And I want to give up all the boring
sentimental games,
give some faith to the holy names.
I got sick, dropped out.
Really there’s no one I would care to blame.

And I want to wake up to the story
that is yet to be made,
with no respect to the debts I’ve paid,
or else I’ll just keep searching for possible hideaways.
And I still look for possible hideaways.
Track Name: Stored
Sometimes I feel like I’m being stored,
like my dad’s Telecaster
in the closet of my boyhood room
where I still live.
I’ve got so much to give,
but it’s being stored.
And I played that guitar,
and one day my dad
took the neck off of it
and put it on my guitar.
I was honored in a way,
and I used it whenever
I gigged. It was a decent rig,
and still I hoped for more.

I actually prayed for fame and fortune.
Now I’m embarrassed that I did.
I didn’t know know how to live,
because the secret to living was being hid.
I was just a kid.
But the more I think about my mistakes,
the more they have a chance to dissipate,
and now, blooming late,
I made a pledge to grow up, and I’m glad I did.

But sometimes I still feel
the fire and I want it to be real.
Sometimes I want to drive to Atlanta
and sign a record deal.
But I would miss everyone I know,
earn my wages brewing joe,
next to a million in a row.

And I remember my sister at the Jersey shore,
how the angst that we felt was not uncalled for,
cause it was all about being mod.

And I remember what I learned on that house show tour,
how it didn’t matter how many we played for,
but it was all about the moment and God.

And I acknowledge all of it is being stored.
I have privileged access to it.
I will remember forever more,
but those who meet me are still new to it.
And I may have lived through it,
but I don’t live through it.
Track Name: Worker Ant
I am a worker ant,
and when I see what I want,
I say, “I can use this, if I can move this.”
Then take it back to the queen.
But I’ve never seen the queen.
I hope she’s beautiful,
I just hope she’s not mean.

I want to shake this hypnotized state,
I’m trippin’ over the land.
But why is it so hard to shake this state
when it’s so easy to lift a huge grain of sand?

I am a worker ant, and I work ‘til I’m totally mad.
I work hard, and I never relax, and now I’m sprouting wings,
and now I’m flying off to be a dad.
Track Name: Song for Someone Else
Runt of the litter,
you were in the wrong,
you were in the right.
You were in the cage,
you were on the stage.
There’s no judging you
in a worldly light.

And you sure were bitter
about what was done to you.
But there’s still no judging you.
I could shake a finger
just like you think I might,
but you know I know
you’d still be all right.

Brunt of the joke,
you were roasted
and put on ice.
But you coped
and slowly took over
your own life.

Were we able-bodied?
Were you sound of mind?
Were you socially refined?
I don’t think so.
No I don’t think we can
even define your kind.

And you were flying under the radar
for the longest time,
while two dimensional people
had their chance to shine.

I want to motivate you to cross their finish line,
cause I know you’re coasting.
I know you’re coasting.
Track Name: The Black Earth
Calm me down, calm me down.
Show me the black earth and the brown.
Know my weakness, see my strength.
It’s not a short life, it’s whatever length.

Call me near, see me far.
Wish me luck wherever you are.
Guide me with curves as I walk through
all the moments, and I know you do.

There are times when I can’t see my hands in front of me.
Times when I am buried in the ground.
But I hope it will always mean more to me.
Show me the black earth and the brown.

I want you to dance, and I understand
that from this only point of view,
we can’t see the patterns of the sea and land,
can’t see the realistic green and blue.

So give me life, set me down.
Show me the black earth and the brown.
So give me worth and spin me round,
show me the black earth and the brown.
Show me the black earth and the brown.
Track Name: Arrows
On the ice, the rubble looks like everything I own,
cause it used to be private.
I’m reading the ground for falls
and then scolding the streets.
And in the arms of trees, the guests all leave in sudden pulses.
For fear of what falls, I’m taking down the heavens,
cursing in my glassy machine down here.

We had such a good time back in December.
We had such a good time back in December.
You left your ladder in the snow.
Now you leave me to wonder if extreme cold is what I need.
If you don’t know, I can’t believe.

I never ever stop observing.
I’m with the atmosphere
as I follow arrows to and fro.
Track Name: Room in the House
There’s room in the house
for a hard rock and a hardcore band,
for a bagel and a pita, a Bible and a Gita, a half-and-half pizza.
There’s room enough for things carefully and easily placed,
for those who favor a fevered or an even pace.
There’s plenty of room, if you ask me,
for those who agree and who don’t agree.

This house is not so big.
To find what you need, you’ve got to dig.
But it’s all right for me if it’s all right for you.
And it must be good for you if it’s good for her too.
It’s chaos, and that’s how we live.
When we accept, that’s how we give.

There’s room for your poster of Johnny Depp,
over which you wept,
for her Rx and your Chinese herbs
if they calm your nerves.
Room for premonitions of doom and gloom.
I think there’s room.
Cause we’ve got a room full of balloons
that may go boom.

There’s time enough to be earnest
if that’s what you need.
Time enough to turn
and to feel freed.
There’s time to make mistakes
and act the fool.
Time to see yourself
as cool and uncool.

And there’s room enough in the house,
whatever phase you’re in,
if you take your garbage out
and bring back the bins.
Track Name: Singing Wild
I’m learning to breathe by taking in pure life.
My heart is beating for future life in the present time.
I’m leaving where my mind is leading.
I’m not fleeing, nor is my love receding.

I focus now on birds of peace with gray wings.
I have no interest anymore in strange things.
The truth is shown by what I can forgive.
And forgiveness has a fortune to give.
I feel the sting of holiness and pride,
but I’m praying for pure life to be our guide.

It’s early now, but it’s always getting late.
We must now learn to live, at any rate.
I want to see you sometime singing wild,

like you’re singing to the only other child.
Track Name: The Magician Sees the Magician
The magician sees the magician sees the magician sees the magician,
but the magic lies awake, it lies awake at night.
The magician sees the magician sees the magician sees the magician,
but the magic lies awake, it lies awake at night.

Our vision entrained, we see things disappearing.
Sleight of hand, I mean.
Our judgement’s in a sleeping state,
but the magic lies awake.

The magician sees the magician sees the magician sees the magician,
but the magic lies awake, it lies awake at night.

The magician sees the bunny toe peek out the hat.
The magician knows where not to go, and when people get sick of that.
Magicians deftly drift over the tricks,
nearly killing their assistants in a fancy slip.

The magician sees the magician sees the magician sees the magician,
but the magic lies awake, it lies awake at night.

Entertained by the hands of ‘Your Name Here’ The Great,
our judgment’s in a sleeping state.
But the magic lies awake.
But the magic lies awake!

The magician sees the magician sees the magician sees the magician,
but the magic lies awake, it lies awake at night.
The magician sees the magician sees the magician sees the magician,
but the magic lies awake, it lies awake at night.

Magician voice (simultaneous):

You say I don’t know nature’s laws. Oh but I do! because I’ve studied law... Well I did for the first year, and I took some time off. They said I didn’t have the right judgement for the job...

I read the crowd, I make a study of the laughter and the oohs and ah’s. I have a masterful command over attention and it’s undeniable flaws. I’m the man, and I know what I can pull off.

I soon learned that magic is the everyman’s trade. I like to frequent local restaurants and dazzle all my dates. I have to think about perception every day. You think I’m dealing in deception, that’s ok.

Oh, I know how that trick is done! And I am equally amazed until the day is done.
Track Name: Hope That's Hidden Away
I told you three times what I wanted.
You gave me three good reasons why
all the things that I wanted
were a lie, a lie, a lie.
It was terrible indeed
when I superficially agreed.
But that night what had been a want
was revealed to be a selfish need.

When hope is hidden away,
you might not know that it’s lurking inside.
You might not know that what’s lurking inside
is just hope that’s hidden away.

An argument broke out later that summer.
I swallowed all the air out of the room.
But when I thought about what I had to hold under,
it came out in this massive burp.

And when hope is hidden away,
you might not know that it’s lurking inside.
You might not know that what’s lurking inside
is just hope that’s hidden away.

Then I wrote it down and noticed
no matter what we’d be ok.
But if I didn’t really know this,
then how could I pretend to say:

When hope is hidden away,
you might not know that it’s lurking inside.
You might not know that what’s lurking inside
is just hope that’s hidden away.
Track Name: Normal
When I was a boy, I wanted to feel normal
and that desire never disappeared.
Never guessed that what feels normal
would appear so entirely weird.

Felt like I had to keep myself together,
so I tightened up my belt.
Never guessed that feeling normal
would be so far from being someone else.

You may have grown up to believe there is no place for you.
May even start to consider if there’s space for you.
And I just don’t know what to believe.

You may have grown up to believe you are a certain way,
and nothing could be further from the truth.
And you might find that you’re younger in your old age,
even younger than in your youth.

I want to tell you to forgive yourself
I want the world to make mistakes.
I want the jockeys of my mind to get tired out,
and to give you all another break.