"That Spring Before The Crash"

Remember those days before the crash?
 When grandma was like your mother.
 I lived through the woods.
 That trail was worn to roots and rocks.
 It haunts me now, you know?
 Those pine trees, so young then would watch me come and go.
 I bet they’re dark with density and overrun with briars now.

Yes, those spring days before the crash,
 The high grass encroached the scrap metal pile
 And we assaulted old washing machine glass with rocks to see inside, because after all, the door was ceased.
 Our small hands so smooth could not open.
 Locked like a secret.
 And the zip line grandpa built.
 Remember those days before the crash?

The cold gray rock looked like a cave,
And our villains took a comfort there.
 And grandpa bought us ninja stars from the flea market and we took them to that rock,
 But we were always late, weren’t we?
Only catching their back sides as they fleeted up the fallen tree and in to the deadwood forest.
I’d say that tree is dust now.
The villains all gone.

Remember those summer days before the crash?
 The tool shed racket by the Bradford pears.
 Grandpa’s eyes on small wood pieces of bird house windows or doors, And on us.
 We warned him of the danger, didn’t we?
 That monstrous spider in the corner of the shed where the tin met the wall.
 He was the bravest of us all,
 During those summer days before the crash.

Remember slightly the autumn days before the crash?
 I received grandma’s passing after school and ran in to the pines and wept on their brown dead needles which poked me,
 And when I returned you were there and we held one another like brothers and I remember your shoulder being much kinder than the forest,
 During that autumn day before the crash.

I believe the turn was Panama at night.

[After the funeral where my dad wailed like a boy,
 It sounded like trees falling.
 And grandpa shook his cane pitifully.
 Forgetting, remembering.
 Sick with Alzheimer and of death.]

Those girls enticed so you drank bravery like a man and ended up silly like a child, half naked by the pool.
 We had never seen you like that.
 But you ran free that night and we laughed.

And those nights in my room,
 Deep in the season before the crash.
 The bravery had fermented in to cowardice or something like it,
 And the music played sadly as we ran.

Vaguely remember those autumn days before the crash?
 Our minds racing and hearts thumping.
 Checking the blinds for police or for anyone who could hurt us.
 We were scared like children,
 Our hands shaking calloused in the moonlight.
 One prayed to god,
 the other hoped for him to be out there, again, in the night
 As we locked all the doors
 On that autumn night before the crash.

Remember me begging for your company on your doorstep
 The winter of the crash?
 You were timid like a boy,
 So small in big clothes.
 I spoke of adventure and of good times,
 And your eyes had looked angry for months.
 You threw your legs over the bed of the truck and I drove you in to the winter of the crash.

There was a tire on its side by my door and blood in my lashes.
 And you were there before the truck,
 Face down like a sleeping child.
 I ran to you.
 Afraid.
 So afraid.
 I remember you raising that crimson face of hatred
 and wanting to forget
 that winter day of the crash;
 But knew,
 You’d not be there with me in the spring.

I saw you the other day walking the streets,
 And although it’s hard to go back now that they’re both gone,
 I remembered the trail and those pine trees,
 Still young,
 Sunshine on their floor,
 And our baby hands eager for rocks.
 Gaining callouses
 In that spring before the crash.


Zach Byrd - That Spring Before The Crash - Prod. by Sly

DSOL - cover by Shane Blacksmith

Metanoia Coming Soon! Listen with headphones to get the full experience!
Music Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7sQmnBFUG_M

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