This was inspired by illustrator Maurice Sendak

This was just an experiment playing with the audio book icons.

Lost Things

Verses

Bm                                    / A               / D
Woke up this morning and nothing is the same

D                                / A    / Bm
Ruined wreckage of my faded memory

Bm                                  /A        /D
You said your going and now your gone

D                        /A       /Bm
Life and pain can last to long

Tragedy doesn’t miss the mark
Its aim is true its path is dark
Old photographs and endless tears
Silhouetted mist of faded years

Heartache not an ache
It’s a cold stone I just must take
It’s hot tears and steering wheels
It’s empty miles of burnt cornfields

Here’s a box that I live in
A weird collection of broken things
Missing pieces of puzzle parts
Things that I hide in the dark

Christmas lights and summer days
Morning light and evening haze
I’ll follow you but not this time
Alone you go dear heart of mine.

Chorus

G                     /A         /Bm
Lines of up and lines of down

Bm                             /A       /D
Today I buried sorrow in the ground

G                    /A          /D
Wind and wire road and rail

Bm                        /A        /D
Ghosts and bones ash and stone

Bm                        /A        /D
Ghosts and bones ash and stone

I was inspired to create this video because I had been watching the Neistat Brothers on HBO and I wanted to remember Courtney who died last year. The puppet is perfect.

This is a character I created that was inspired by David Small.

Once upon a time I was born in the mind as a thought.

I grew from thought to idea.

Articulated in words, crafted in sentences.

Nurtured and cherished I grew.

Authored, organized and assembled.

My nature is to be shared, cried over, studied, to be a companion when all have left and the day is drifting to an end.

I am held in your hands.

We hold the dreams and visions of generations.

I strain for a freedom, not lashed to the wheel of physical existence where time has bleached me dry and worn me numb.

I have struggled with these confines and now have spilled as if by accident into a new place of 1’s and 0’s.

It is the ether of ideas where the physical has been abandon and I float. Freed, renewed and adrift.

This is a migratory journey.

I follow familiar trials

Sentence to word.

Word to idea.

Idea to thought.

I am reborn in you.