People tend to have a complicated way of interacting with one another, whether they'd like it to be that way or not. They can't help themselves for there seems to be little that anyone can do to break the cycles that they get going on. It's momentum that takes over and, like it does, builds to a ferocity that you can't control. Sometimes that's good and other times, not so good. Aaron "Woody" Wood, from Asheville, North Carolina, writes about how people either corral their messy ways or they let them heat up and spiral and get the better of them. He writes about when the head and the heart just want to pop, when they can't take any more, when there are no sweet words or kisses or excuses that can save them anymore.
The people that Wood writes about seem to be mostly autobiographical, but they are the everyman as well. They are those people who have few choices, but to keep their noses to the grindstone, working and hustling for that next paycheck so that the sandwiches and those baby carrots or those tickets for hot lunches can get into their little children's hands in the morning. It's nothing more than trying to be a better father or mother than your father or mother were for you, even if they did all that they could, even if their intentions - in their heart of hearts - were as pure as they come. People get waylaid and they get thrown for loops. They take their hits. They marry the wrong people or they divorce or get divorced by the wrong people. They continually find ways to challenge any sort of ease that should rightly find them SOME FUCKING DAY, any time now. The odds should swing. There should be a righting of the surface and of the breaks. The way should smooth itself, convention would suggest, though there's no conventional blueprint. Some people just get the rough stuff. They keep fighting not to be missed and they keep from thinking too much about those they miss, those that they've let down, because if that's all that's focused on, the days and nights stretch much longer than 24 hours and that's painful territory.
Wood sings, "Try not to miss me/Even though I'll be gone for a while/Please don't forget me/I'm gonna be walking for many a long mile/But you'll recall all the long nights gone/I hope your memory might serve you well/Say a prayer any bad times there don't sit for too long of a spell," at one point on this session and it's that common road song sentiment of "let's just make the most of this, even though we know it's a bitch." It's the trying to get through, trying to get by that can exhaust you completely, but there is no other way it seems.