My earliest published lyrics (1999)

Writ­ten for eso­teric rock band “Left­y’s Head”, who had insist­ed on nam­ing this song after my (then cur­rent) web­site for some rea­son. The title was orig­i­nal­ly my email address, but I was able to talk them out of that much.  The SPAM quo­tient would have been horrifying.

These lyrics replaced their own for the song, which were orig­i­nal­ly about an insur­rec­tion of mous­tach­es who had bro­ken free of men’s faces and vio­lent­ly tak­en over the world. For bet­ter or worse, I don’t have a copy of that ver­sion to share.

Any­way, I felt invest­ed because of the web­site tie-in, and want­ed the song to rep­re­sent the themes I’d been going for in nam­ing that site. The fol­low­ing is what result­ed, and what end­ed up on their 1999 album “50 Years of Left­y’s Head”.
Lyrics by Aaron Levitz
Music by Left­y’s Head

Remem­ber when they said the sky was falling,
and we were sure it could­n’t be true?
’cause we were list’n­ing to the future calling
with out hopes all planned out — if we only knew!

Remem­ber notic­ing the edges sagging,
and our stom­achs twist­ing into a knot?
In that one moment, our fears went from nagging
to a full fledged pan­ic, right there on the spot.

The world was cov­ered in a cloudy blanket
and the build­ings crum­bled under its weight.
The water flood­ed in and peo­ple drank it,
fill­ing up their lungs, and going to their fate.

Held down and smoth­ered by the thing we trusted,
there was com­fort still with­in its folds.
But look­ing up, we saw the sky­line busted,
like some eerie sign of what the future holds.

Each day we get up and go through the motions.
Each night we watch the stars burn where they fell.
They melt the ice caps and dry the oceans.
Where heav­en meets the earth, we enter hell.

But we’re adapt­ing and a new sky’s forming.
The old ones fad­ing, along with the pain.
Our strength is thawed and I hope it’s warming,
but we’re still afraid it could fall again.

*(I’m not sure whether “our strength is thawed” is accu­rate or not.  It’s the most sense I can make of the record­ed vocals, with no print­ed record in front of me.  It’s an awk­ward turn of phrase, but I can’t think of a bet­ter one off­hand.  I hon­est­ly can’t remem­ber what I was thinking.)