Ophelia’s alone in the street light glow
Walking past the bars in the night
There goes Rose with a cowboy she knows
Guess we’re all looking for light in the dark
The poet lost her pen
In the floor cracks and gin
The tarot and the turntable
Spin and spin
She goes down so smooth
She’s a half written muse
And grace has become
Another whiskey blond
Ophelia’s in the zone with her headphones on
Working to her favorite songs
Philosophers are tokin’, the White Horse is smokin’
They’re all looking for a place to belong
She puts out a vase in a prominent place
Collects pieces of paper with Washington’s face
Is this the stuff dreams are made of
Tequila shot and upright bass
The preacher lost his prayer
Through the cracks in the stairs
The hipsters and hypocrites put on airs
They all look so smooth
Unamused in their booths
And Grace has become
Another whiskey blond
She’s trying to grow gold
It keeps coming up dust
Filling her pockets and picture locket
The weatherman’s whispering secrets again
Growing pains when the grains are sown
Ophelia’s alone and the streetlights are gone
Walking home into the dawn
West Virginia country-folk singer-songwriter Trae Sheehan aims to find a balance between the traditional and the modern on his new LP. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 29, 2020