Lately I’ve felt like the baritone ukulele has been the best vessel for expressing myself, but I thought it was appropriate to revisit accordion for this one because it’s all about reflecting on my past. I wrote it during a road trip back home this summer, and I found this beautiful accordion while visiting my grandma in Thermopolis, Wyoming.

Serendipitous Accordions

Retracing the breadcrumbs I left in the sagebrush
Pausing at tourist traps descended from the Gold Rush
Drive through a tunnel, make a practical wish
Keep it generic to increase its success
Followed the breadcrumbs all the way to Thermopolis
Into that antique shop where I found serendipitous
The accordion which just might save my life

I dread chance encounters with former school classmates
“We weren’t homophobic, we just thought you were strange”
Well I’m not in the mood for their flimsy apologies
Despite how much they’ve changed
Instead let us pose in front of the jackalope
And revisit the Plains
3… 2… 1… Trauma!

Yet despite there being trauma, I’d never take it back
In fact, revisiting my trauma takes me down a wistful path:

What happened to the boy who came out at age 14
Less than 3 years, 100 miles from Matthew Shepard’s murder?

What happened to the witch who’d go streaking in the graveyard
And make weird drawings inspired by his Tarot cards?

What happened to The Fool who’d make instant friends
And not hesitate to bring them to the after-party?

What happened to the friend who’d stand by someone through anything
Instead of the “don’t be an enabler” cop-out?

What happened to the pen pal who’d never fail to write
Despite sucking at the more conventional technology?

What happened to the Luddite who’d leave his phone at home
And sometimes go so far as to turn it off?

What happened to the worker who never cared for resumes
Because he knew they didn’t represent one’s worth?

What happened to the dreamer who was certain of his calling
Which was writing songs to open up people’s hearts?

Leaving road trip scraps of trash
At constellations of gas stations
Wonder which of our remains will be found
By future civilizations
Or future intelligent species which have
Survived our annihilation

Which is precisely why I let my sentimentality drive
For if my normal daily stressors
Are so cosmically insignificant
Then I’ll take every chance I get to see the ones I love
To seek out new adventures
To prove I was alive

This is a demo of one of our songs which will have a better recording coming soon.

After economic and societal collapse
Tanning beds will become obsolete
But one industry which will become infinitely handy
Is a plucky post-apocalyptic canning company

Chorus:
We’re the plucky post-apocalyptic canning company
Our modus operandi: making food for everybody
We reject the notion that all motive’s based on greed
We refuse to revert back to those former hierarchies

Forage for those edible ancestors
Oysters, chanterelles, blackberries, wild peas
Reacquaint yourself (and those you love)
With traditional homeopathic heirloom remedies

Chorus

Teach yourself the life-saving approaches
Animal husbandry and food processing
Coin yourself an amateur biologist
Learn about your bioregion’s natural diversity

Chorus

Salvage books from abandoned shops and libraries
Especially of the horticultural varieties
Share that wealth of wisdom to all of whom you trust
As you rebuild a society more ethical and just

Chorus