Same Song All Along

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Same Song All Along lyrics

Artist-supplied lyric sheet, matched by title. The sheet may differ from this released performance. Production notes and alternate promotional cuts are omitted.

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Intro

Porch off Sunrise, county quiet, palms hang low, spun my granddad's forty-five, heard two old men go.

Verse 1

Plantation by the 441, strip malls hum at night, royal palm throwing shadow, lizard on the porch light. Pulled two records from a milk crate, dust thick as a coat, one was crying soft and low, the other one wrote. I swore the two was fighting over something I had missed. Granddad said, "same red row raised both of them", so I leaned the seat back in the dark and let it sit.

Pre-chorus

So which one's right, the cry or the climb? I cut the world off and I gave it time,

Chorus

Root and the branch off the very same tree, one taught us how to weep, one taught us to be free. Blues in the bassline, jazz up in the sky, turns out it's the same song, been the same the whole time. Same song, all along, same song, all along.

Verse 2

"Three notes," said the deep one, "and I mean each shaking one, came up out the river mud with a box and cause to run. Made grown folks weep in lamplight, made the deacon lose his place. You play pretty, baby, pretty, but pretty ain't the same as true, I bleed inside three chords; you need eleven to get to hello. Same twelve bars since I was born, never moved off this spot, 'cause truth don't wear a costume, and this ache is all I got."

Verse 3

Leaning in the driver seat, I-95 running north, caught the thing they both forgot in all that back-and-forth: when the old one bent that blue note, voice going down to break, the bright one bent the same blue note, just dressed it in a cape. Same crack in the middle of the sound, same ghost in either throat, Broward with the windows down, decoding what they wrote, one church, one Sunday sweat, one road they both came up.

Pre-chorus

So which one's right, the cry or the climb? Both of 'em bending the same blue line,

Chorus

Verse 4

"Cute," said the bright one, "all that counting you do, one porch board your whole life, playing thirty-one and two. Me, I caught a train to New Orleans, hailed a cab uptown, never sat still long enough to let one teardrop down. Horns calling, horns answering, the midnight breaking through, somebody take a solo never played and never will, while you wring that same wet handkerchief, standing still."

Verse 5

Both fell quiet then, they'd heard the same bend, the same place, same fields, same Sundays, same low hymn beneath the floor. The root can't sneer at the branch, the branch can't leave the door. Back on the porch off Sunrise, US-1 a mile away, 954 in my bloodline, carrying what they say: he bled in three, he flew in a thousand, same ache they couldn't hide.

Bridge

And this time when the old one laid his line down in the dark, the young one didn't run from it, he answered with a spark. Call, and then the response, the oldest thing they own, blues said the ache out loud and jazz said, "you ain't alone." One wound, two halves, finally singing what they are, the deepest pain, the freest joy, one blue note near and far.

Pre-chorus

So which one's right? Neither, and both, two hands, one piano, one breath, one oath,

Chorus

Root and the branch off the very same tree, one taught us how to weep, one taught us to be free. Blues in the bassline, jazz up in the sky, I thought the two was fighting, turns out they harmonize. Same song, all along, same song, all along.

Outro

Two old men, one young pen. Same song.

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01 / The opening