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I Have Seen the End

by Brock's Folly

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credits

released October 21, 2016

Brock’s Folly is—

Justus Stout: trumpet, vocals, accordion, harmonica
Jesse Murray: acoustic guitar, vocals
Philip Hodges: electric guitar, vocals
Demetris Madden: drums
Michael Minkoff: bass, vocals

Tracked by Patrick Anderson at his home in Decatur
Mixed by Michael Minkoff and Justus Stout
Mastered by Patrick Anderson

Special Thanks to

Our wives. All of them. For being so generous with our time, for supporting our music, and for encouraging this album along.

The Nehemiah Foundation for Cultural Renewal, for being a faithful sponsor to Brock’s Folly for the past seven years.

Our fans—you are the most loyal and encouraging group of people. Thanks for enabling and enjoying our musical endeavors.

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Track Name: Three Reasons
Three reasons people change, I've heard.
They hurt enough or they'll learn enough
or their spirit starts to burn.
They’ll feel the fear, they'll see real clear, and some just gotta let it out.

Either way, you’re gonna change some day,
so be patient while you wait to change, you wait to change.
Track Name: Diana
I’m your son, oh, and I don't hunt like I did once, Diana.
I fight hard times with a peace pipe by my side.
Oh, I don’t know you like I used to, Emmanuel.
I fight hard times by my bedside; it’s my hell.

Where is the coal that made our engines burn?
There’s fever on the mountainside.
Where is the coal that made our stoves burn hot?
There’s fever on the mountainside
from old Pandora’s mason jar,
from old Pandora’s mason jar.

Oh, I know what I’ve grown used to,
and it’s a heartache and a hard truth.
Long since but far too early,
and I’ve been hard spent in my yearning.
Oh, I slew my own youth;
I ran it straight through with a fig tree.
And I’ve borne such poor fruit
since from a whore’s womb, he bore me.

Where is the coal that made our engines burn?
There’s fever on the mountainside.
Where is the coal that made our stoves burn hot?
There’s fever on the mountainside
from old Pandora’s mason jar,
from old Pandora’s mason jar.

So often a man’s sins comes heavy-laden with revelation.
I’ve been such a good son, in the worst ways; I'm the worst one.

Oh Lord, come with fire; burn the mountain down.
Track Name: Regal Knight
I am a regal knight on a tricycle.
I am a horse with a child who’s lazy.
I am a boat being rowed by a fish.
And I’m a man without his lady.

I am a coffee cup with apple juice.
I’m an invading horde without Romans.
I am a tree stripped of leaves in the winter.
And I’m a man without his woman.

I am a muscle car without an engine.
I am Magellan sailing a flat world.
I am a bum without whiskey on my breath.
And I’m a boy without his girl.

I am an empty rocking chair
on a porch without a view.
So now you know this is how it feels
every time I’m without you.

And so this is the point of my tune:
Just that two is better than one.
And it’s not, it’s not all that great
for a man to be alone.
Track Name: Thoreau
I am like Thoreau.
These woods are my home.
But I’m not as wise as I suspect I am.
God knows how pride will get the best of a man.
I am a squatter in the Promised Land.

My independence is a quail shot low.
In escaping through the window,
she greets the hunter’s arrow as she goes.

I have seen the end, and it’s a pretty thing.
Everything is dead or is dying on its knees.
The Great Confession is at hand, and now we see
the works of man amount to nothing and everything.

Our days are numbered like the open road.
The damnsday book has been signed and closed.
The seed is dead, and now the tree will grow.

I am like Thoreau.
These woods are my home.
But I’m not as wise as I suspect I am.
Track Name: Gasoline
The last time I saw my baby,
her words smelled of gasoline, so I threw her on the fire.
What I didn’t know, sitting there on the telephone,
was how hard it is to breathe without my rib bone.

So the next time I see my baby,
if her words smell of gasoline, well I’ll put them in my tank.
And I’ll drive to the end of the line.
And if I make it there alive, I’ll know just who to thank.

And if we make it there tonight, that’s all right.
And if we have to cross the universe to hold it all together,
we’ll put up a fight.
We’ll put up a fight.
We’ll put up a fight.

So give me blows; they’re the wind in my sails.
And poke your holes, and watch me bail.
So give me blows; they’re the wind in my sails.
And poke your holes, and watch me bail.

And if we make it there tonight, that’s all right.
And if we have to cross the universe to hold it all together,
we’ll put up a fight.
We’ll put up a fight.
We’ll put up a fight.
We’ll put up a fight.
Track Name: All of Satan’s Woes
All of Satan’s woes
are rooted in his insecurities.
He’s got a little bit of a god complex, if you ask me.

All of Mary’s foes
weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty just to throw in their stones.
What a god complex, but just look at me:

I am mean, and I am quick to humble too.
I am not keen on being humbled by you.
What a god complex, if you ask me.

And so we say,
“Go do whatever the hell it is that you like.
I will not judge you.
Just don't judge me.”

But even Jesus spit
and drove the money lenders from God’s house
with a cord for a whip—
the same he used on me.

I am mean, and I am quick to humble too.
I am not keen on being humbled by you.
What a god complex, what a god complex, what a god complex,
if you ask me.
Track Name: Father Song
Our family tree is full of split branches.
A phoenix that has drowned leaves no ashes.
Just a bloated corpse afloat on the tide.
The story of our fathers is the story of treachery.
Weak traitors to the cause of our families,
and little boys do just what they see.

And there’s a stench in the wind.
There’s something foul blowing in.
It smells like sex and cheap old gin.
What happened to our men?
And the king is looking down
on the roofs of his town.
She caught his eye when she dropped her gown.
A moment’s meditation makes the world burn down, down, down.

Oh captain, my captain, you’re drunk again.
I can see it in your eyes; you know you’re full of shit.
Your sins are running down your shirt.
We stand at attention, but you’re passed out on the floor
somewhere between the kitchen and the bathroom door.
Your sins are running down your shirt.

There’s a stench in the wind.
There’s something foul blowing in.
It smells like sex and cheap old gin.
What happened to our men?
And the king is looking down
on the roofs of his town.
She caught his eye when she dropped her gown.
A moment’s meditation makes the world burn down, down, down.
Track Name: The Hardest Lesson
There’s something in the heat of the human hand;
it makes you drive on.
You pull off of the highway into no man’s land,
and it’s enough to break your heart in two.
It’s enough to break your heart in two.

There’s something in the hunger of the honest man.
It makes him lace his boots up tight.
And there’s something in the sweat of a lover’s bed.
It makes you want to make her your own.
It makes you want to make her your own.

It seems to me maturity is not a needle in a haystack.
It’s finding who you are and who you never gonna be.

The hardest lesson that I ever learned
was to let my young ambitions burn.
The hardest lesson that I ever learned
was to let my young ambitions burn.
Now they’re gone.

The hardest lesson that I ever learned
took twenty-one years just to wait my turn.
And when I’m lying cold, stiff, and gray,
I won’t have a chance to learn another day,
’cause I’m gone.

The hardest lesson that I ever learned
took a northbound rattler, and I’m certain sure.
When my beard grows out and my hair turns gray,
I’ll still be learning for another day
’til I’m gone.

The hardest lesson that I ever learned
was to let my young ambitions burn.
(The hardest lesson that I ever learned
took twenty-one years just to wait my turn.)
The hardest lesson that I ever learned
was to let my young ambitions burn.
(And when I’m lying cold, stiff, and gray,
I won’t have a chance to learn another day.)
(The hardest lesson that I ever learned
took a northbound rattler, and I’m certain sure.)
The hardest lesson that I ever learned
was to let my young ambitions burn.
(When my beard grows out and my hair turns gray,
I’ll still be learning for another day.)
Now they’re gone.

And as the kudzu’s stretching up the mountaintop,
I’ll take an axe to the earth, and I’ll make my plot.
And when you get to the ridge, would you leave my urn?
Another Ebenezer for a lesson learned.
Now we’re gone.

The hardest lesson that I ever learned
took a northbound rattler, and I’m certain sure
(The hardest lesson that I ever learned
was to let my young ambitions burn.)
(The hardest lesson that I ever learned
took twenty-one years just to wait my turn.)
When my beard grows out and my hair turns gray,
I’ll still be learning for another day.
(The hardest lesson that I ever learned
was to let my young ambitions burn.)
(And when I’m lying cold, stiff, and gray,
I won’t have a chance to learn another day.)
’Til we’re gone.
Track Name: Wrong Things Right
I stole a book from the library full of stories for you to read to me,
such as Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen.
I tore the binding on the pavement as I dropped it in my clean escape
atop the roses and the gates that keep the books in.
And I recall how you looked at me.
You said, “There’s one thing in this world that’s free.”

The very next morning I took that book,
and I hopped across the worded wall
and paid away my fine of twenty dollars and thirty cents.
I don’t think it was evil, perhaps a little less than kosher,
and I wanted to be someone who deserved to be with you.

And we will fight while we’re young enough to try.
And we will fight to make the wrong things right.
And we will fight to make the wrong things right.

I saw an owl in a tree, and I remembered what he’d said to me,
how he’d never leave me hanging out on a branch alone.
And as I walk across this river and the blues build up inside my soul,
I’ll sing ’em out, and they will turn to ecstasy.

And we will fight while we’re young enough to try.
And we will fight to make the wrong things right.
And we will fight to make the wrong things right.

You know, sometimes when I sleep at night
and a blanket won’t quite warm my feet,
I toss and turn, and I wonder what will become of me.
’Cause twenty years goes by
much faster than it did when I was a child,
and I’d like for them to say, “He lived deliberately.”

And we will fight while we’re young enough to try.
And we will fight to make the wrong things right.
And we will fight to make the wrong things right.

Approaching is the day when I will stand before the whitewashed fence
as naked as a Christmas tree out by the road in spring.
Track Name: Denver CO
All hail the naked king
whose clothes are scattered across the city.
Well, I spy that it’s my time to die.
I got ten years, maybe twenty.

So please, leave the amphetamines.
I’ve seen the needle and the damage done.
And I don’t know how hard it is to quit
even if after only one hit.

I’ll spend my last night in a diner
with my friends: coffee and spoon.
White is the sound of sugar.
Nothing looks sweet any more.

So please just catch a Greyhound
even if you die along the way.
And don’t stay in Denver, Colorado.
Your friends there are all a mile high
and a dime bag a dozen.

So please just catch a Greyhound
even if you die along the way.
And don’t stay in Denver, Colorado.
Your friends there are all a mile high
and a dime bag a dozen.
Track Name: 1976
Forty years ago,
1976,
they were gathered in prayer rooms.
Smoke was rising from their hips,
and honey falling from their lips.
The world was coming to an end.

My mother and my dad
were younger than me then.
And they were two of millions
who gathered scorn and went insane,
wore rusty helmets on their brains,
still thinking the world might be saved.

The world is spinning still
and maybe ever will.
The metaphor’s in the memory.
The helmet gathers dust up in the attic
with sandals ready to be strapped,
the shield’s a placard in the hallway,
and the belt still smells of gunplay.
The breastplate’s waiting to be filled.
And the sword misses the kill.
And the sword misses the kill.
Track Name: People Change
You’re gonna do whatever suits ya.
But soup kitchens are the churches of the future.
And I don’t know what they’ll try to tell ya.
(What’s that, boy? What’s that?)
But the Jesus Movement is alive and well, y’all.

And brother don’t you know God don’t abhor ya?
The Spirit is here, and he’s coming for ya.
And we don’t need no movers and shakers.
(Why’s that, boy? Tell me why.)
’Cause the Holy Spirit, he’ll move and shake us.

And the only cure for the Welfare State
is breaking into the church’s bank.
And the church’s first money keeper
(What’d he do, boy? Tell me what he did!)
sold his soul for thirty pieces of silver.

And does anybody know where the offering goes?
Has anybody checked the pastor’s pillow?
And if you kinda like to tighten the budget,
(What you gonna do, boy?)
well, I ain’t afraid to go above ya.

And you’re gonna do whatever suits ya.
(And I don’t know what they’ll try to tell ya.)
Soup kitchens are the churches of the future.
(But the Jesus Movement is alive and well, y’all.)
And brother don’t you know God don’t abhor ya?
(And we don’t need no movers and shakers)
The Spirit is here, and he’s coming for ya.
(’cause the Holy Spirit, he’ll move and shake us.)
And the only cure for the Welfare State
(The church’s first money keeper)
is breaking into the church’s bank.
(sold his soul for thirty pieces of silver.)
And does anybody know where the offering goes?
(And if you kinda like to tighten the budget,
There’s a hoard of swank that lines your pastor’s pillow.
(Well, I ain’t afraid to go above ya.)