Shadows on the Cul-de-Sac | Southern Gothic Jazz
Автор: The Crooked Pulpit
Загружено: 2026-02-24
Просмотров: 22
Описание:
We are drowning in the shallow and starving in the feast. "Shadows on the Cul-de-Sac" is a dark jazz and slow blues anthem for the exhausted soul, exploring the heavy, unspoken reality of the modern hustle and the quiet isolation of suburban life.
Welcome to The Crooked Pulpit. We don't preach polished perfection here; we explore the unvarnished truths and the psychological weight of the world we've built. If you've ever felt like a stranger on your own familiar street, pull up a chair.
Consider subscribing if you're looking for music that speaks to the grit, the ache, and the raw reality of the human experience.
What does the "crooked pulpit" mean to you? Where do you feel the most isolated in modern life? Let me know in the comments below.
🎵 Lyrics:
There’s a quiet in the driveway, beneath the sodium light
A million houses breathing in the cold November night
From the prairie to the rust belt, we’re all doing fine
Trading all our yesterdays to walk a painted line
We don't talk about the heavy, we don't talk about the ache
Just pour another coffee, see how much a soul can take.
Step up to the crooked pulpit, let the broken bell ring
Sing a song for the silent, the ones who cannot sing
We’re drowning in the shallow, starving in the feast
Chasing down a promise, while we're swallowed by the beast
Yeah, the neighbors are all smiling, but the roots are turning dry
Underneath the great, big open sky.
Got a screen to keep us company, a pill to keep us numb
Waiting for a promised land that never seems to come
In the frozen northern winters, in the southern summer heat
We’re just strangers passing by on our own familiar street
Built a fortress of drywall, to keep the world at bay
But the ghosts of what we could have been are bleeding through the gray.
So step up to the crooked pulpit, let the broken bell ring
Sing a song for the silent, the ones who cannot sing
We’re drowning in the shallow, starving in the feast
Chasing down a promise, while we're swallowed by the beast
Yeah, the neighbors are all smiling, but the roots are turning dry
Underneath the great, big open sky.
Tear down the picket fences!
Burn the plastic crowns!
We are more than just the overtime in these forgotten towns!
Let it out, let it break, let the honest river flow
It’s the only way to heal, it’s the only way to grow!
Step up to the crooked pulpit, let the broken bell ring
Sing a song for the silent, the ones who cannot sing
We’re drowning in the shallow, starving in the feast
Chasing down a promise, while we're swallowed by the beast
Yeah, the neighbors are all smiling...
But it’s time to tell the truth.
From the crooked pulpit.
Produced for The Crooked Pulpit Channel.
#DarkJazz #SouthernGothic #CountryNoir #TheCrookedPulpit #OriginalMusic #SlowBlues #ModernIsolation
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