The Sweet Illusion

A raw, one-take acoustic song.
This is a song about being stuck in a prison of your own making, calling the "poison water 'sweet, good wine.'" It's for anyone who's been so lost for so long, they've "forgotten what goodness even feels like."
It's about the paradox of grace: the moment a guide offers you a beautiful lie—a sweet illusion—just to give you a place to rest, only to take it away once you're strong enough to face the truth.
It's a song about the rest stop, not the final destination.
(Lyrics based on the wisdom of the Conjured City parable.)

Lyrics: 
(Verse 1) 
I built my house on a crooked line 
Called the poison water "sweet, good wine" 
Called the anger in my blood "a righteous spine" 
And this whole damn prison... I called it "mine."

(Verse 2) 
I walk in circles 'til my feet are raw 
My "right and wrong" is just my favorite flaw 
I chase a pleasure that just bites and claws 
And I don't know how to live... by any other laws.

(Chorus) 
Is there a goodness that I plain forgot? 
A taste of joy that can't be sold or bought? 
My heart's a lock, and the key is lost 
I never even stopped to count the cost. 
I don't know how to do good... 
Hell, I'm not even sure I would.

(Verse 3) 
I was on that highway, bleedin' out my faith 
My spirit just a pale and tired wraith 
I told the guide, "I'm givin' up the fight." 
(The guitar gets softer, almost tender) 
He said, "I know... but rest here for the night." 
And he raised a city, shinin' in the sand 
Said, "This is home, son... this is the promised land."

(Verse 4) 
And that illusion... Lord, it tasted sweet 
I slept for ages, got back on my feet I thought 
I'd made it, thought my journey's end 
Was in that city, with my newfound friend 
(Guitar stops. One beat of cold silence) 
But when I woke up strong... he just smiled and waved his hand 
And there was nothin' but the desert... Nothin' but the sand.

(Chorus 2 - The Turn) 
He said, "That was the goodness that you plain forgot... 
"The taste of joy that can't be sold or bought. 
"Your heart's a lock... but here's the key: 
"That city wasn't for you... 
(Voice breaks, just a little) 
...That city was me."

(Pivot) 
I don't know how to do good... 
(Guitar hangs on a suspended, aching chord) 
But he just stood there... 
And he would.

(Outro) 
(The first "stuck" guitar pattern returns. But it's slower now. It's not "stuck" anymore... it's "walking.") 
He just stood there... and he would. ... 
My house is built on a crooked line... 
But I'm walkin'... 
And the road is fine. 
I'm just walkin'... 
And the road is fine. 
(Guitar pattern plays twice, then stops cold.)

The Sweet Illusion

Billions of gallons of raw sewage from Philly are released into the Delaware annually, report reveals. Philadelphia discharges 12.7 billion gallons of raw, diluted sewage into the Delaware River's watershed each year


[Verse 1]
Under the Ben Franklin Bridge, the water runs dark and slow,
Twelve-point-seven billion reasons why the river's lost its glow.
Cobbs Creek and Tacony whisper secrets to the tide,
Every raindrop brings a warning that the city's trying to hide.
[Pre-Chorus]
Sixty percent of the pipes still share the same old vein,
Stormwater and sorrow mixing in the acid rain.
[Chorus]
Delaware, Delaware, you carry more than ships,
You carry the weight of a century's eclipse.
Half the year you're closed for swimming,
Seventy-two hours after the storm stops brimming-
We sing for the fish, we sing for the kids,
For the outfalls numbered one through one-sixty-four,
Delaware, Delaware, what are we waiting for?
[Verse 2]
Camden County counts the days-ninety-four on the Cooper's shore,
One-eighteen for Newton Creek, still begging for something more.
Green roofs and rain gardens bloom like hopeful graffiti,
But the volume keeps on climbing with the rising of the sea.
[Pre-Chorus]
Floatables and solids caught in screens of rusted steel,
A postcard from the underworld nobody wants to feel.
[Chorus]
Delaware, Delaware, you carry more than ships,
You carry the weight of a century's eclipse.
Half the year you're closed for swimming,
Seventy-two hours after the storm stops brimming-
We sing for the fish, we sing for the kids,
For the outfalls numbered one through one-sixty-four,
Delaware, Delaware, what are we waiting for?
[Bridge]
Portland built its tunnels, Boston bent the arc,
D.C.'s chasing ninety-six percent before the dark.
Philly's got the blueprints, Camden's got the will,
But the price tag reads in billions and the meter's running still.
[Final Chorus]
Delaware, Delaware, don't let the current lie,
We were promised fishable, swimmable beneath a cleaner sky.
One hundred ninety-five days poisoned is one hundred ninety-four too long,
So raise the bonds, dig the tunnels, turn the overflow to song.
We sing for the fish, we sing for the kids,
For the river that divides us and the river that forgives-
Delaware, Delaware, the water's calling home.


Outfall Reverie

We never planned to release this.
These songs were just for us, little moments that sat on hard drives and notebooks, never really meant to leave the room. But after a while, it started to feel wrong keeping them hidden.

The Collection isn’t a greatest hits or a polished project. It’s the story of where we’ve been, caught in all its rough edges and quiet mistakes. Some songs are years old, while others seem to have come out of nowhere. Together, they make up everything that’s brought us here.

We didn’t mean for this to be an album. But here we are.


Sacred Sky

The Wild Hunt

Love is All

Here

Man On Fire

All Wash Out

New album PersonA out on April 15th! Preorder now on iTunes here:  smarturl.it/PersonAiTunes. 

Listen to the first single "No Love Like Yours" now!
iTunes: smarturl.it/PersonAiTunes
CD/LP: smarturl.it/PersonAMerch
Tidal: smarturl.it/NoLoveTidal
YouTube: smarturl.it/NoLoveYT
SoundCloud: smarturl.it/NoLoveSC
GooglePlay: smarturl.it/NoLoveGP
Amazon: smarturl.it/NoLoveAmazon
Rhapsody: smarturl.it/NoLoveRhapsody

All Wash Out

Edward Sharpe Mag Zeros

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