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about

“Sometimes I’ll start writing a song by hitting ‘record’ and singing improvised words to a melody that I like, and then I’ll go back and extract the lyric fragments that might have legs. This song started out that way. It eventually became a traveling-westward kind of number about giving up the things we think we need to survive. I chose things that seemed kind of impossible to live without—things like language and song. What would happen? Would the bottom fall out, or would we find a new kind of ground to stand on?”

lyrics

Lay me down on a wagon bound on a westward route
Kiss me once with your eyes and lead me to your mouth

If we gave up the words we had used
Goodbye my poem with your traveling shoes
The dictionaries bled out the page
Oh my darling, here comes a new age

Lay me down in a puddle of ink from the poet’s well
Leave the quill for the whippoorwill, let’s be quiet for a spell
Don’t say a word
Talk just clouds our brain
The chattering birds
Have all gone quiet for the coming rain

If we gave up the songs we had sung
And heard them fade into the “coo” of a dove
All the radios closed their eyes
Spread their wings and joined the great migration in the sky

Lay me down on a bed of tongues from a blue songbird
Let me dream of the joyful sound that was made when you were born
Now the fiddle is quiet
No bow to make her sing
Oh but I can hear
How your heart is quivering

So we gave up all we had loved
There came a gift from the stars above
All the windows out for the change
Here comes the rain

So cast off your coat
And let the rain soak you clean
Oh my lady of hope
Won’t you sail back to us on a Zephyrus breeze?

Lay me down on a pallet of dreams from the garden bed
Pour a drink let’s watch the sun sink down below the mountain ridge

credits

from If We Set Out Now (EP), released June 14, 2011
Scott Pryor - guitar, vocals
Jake Morrow - mandolin, harmony vox
Emma Morrow - fiddle, harmony vox
Devin Greenwood - organ, electric guitar
Todd Erk - bass
Tom Bendel - drums

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Scott Pryor Tucson, Arizona

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