The Conductor's Fatal Bow

from The Conductor's Fatal Bow by X.Y. Spaces

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lyrics

That man is up to his old tricks again. And he can't be bothered to make amends. His ankles caught in a pit of viola strings. But it's the night before and he's just in the middle of a nervious dream
And he asks himself who he is when he writes these songs. A swindler? A conniver? An extention of himself?
The constellations reform into a helping hand. Reciprocate or withdraw, they fail to understand. Anticipating resolve, he takes a moment to breathe, but can't recall just what he's seen.
And he'll brag. And he'll boast. And he'll never repair the fourth wall he broke until he faces the reflection that he dreads the most.
The rhythm section explodes, each pizzicato resounds, every vibrato aglow, not a single dry eye in the room. But all these worrisome thoughts, where they tend to fluctuate, of course it would be right now, they start to punctuate. And what was said on that day, where you made the grave mistake? Did connotations delay a certain hint of dismay? If they just interpret his actions for a minor mistake, if they were to notice those subtle scowls, would that give this all away?
That man applauds himself once again. As the end draws near it's too late to make amends. Those he's wronged may try to keep him from enjoying his realized dream. With an obscured view it's still the most beautiful thing that he's ever seen. A standing ovation, a lasting impression, he steps across the stage and takes the fatal bow.

credits

from The Conductor's Fatal Bow, released September 2, 2017

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X.Y. Spaces Decatur, Alabama

'Preciate it

Jonathan Ransom - Guitar
Brady Lett - Vocals
Alex Hames - Drums
Heath Brister - Bass

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