Description
A song that smells like a bonfire, gasoline from an old pickup truck, and a pie taken out of the oven on the porch. This isn't nostalgia, but rather an attempt to find solid ground beneath our feet - the very ground where adults weren't afraid to say hello, children played until dark, and the word“promise” didn't need to be confirmed with a text message. Each line is like a yellowed photograph found in a box of Christmas toys. Not to make you cry, but to remind you that simplicity is not simplification, and free do m is no t compli c at i on. And if sudde n l y ev e r yth i ng arou n d y ou se e m s a l ittle t oo m u ch... thi s song i s l i ke a“back ” but t on. It does n ' t can c el r e ality, b u t it lets you b r eathe. W ith a guitar, of course.