Music We’ve Made: Blue Room

by justinemendoza

Justine and Steve

I decided it may be good to introduce some music into my blog (and hopefully back into my daily life). I’ll try to post songs that inspire me, that I’ve just discovered, or that I’ve been listening to lately (like the inspirational Auntie Pesto), but I thought to start I could share a song that we recorded years ago. In the 5 years that we’ve been together, Steve & I  have written 30+ songs together (I’ve counted), we have lots of recorded “sketches,” but have arranged and recorded very few complete versions of our songs.

This track is one of the few that we put extra work into. Blue Room was written by me, arranged by Steve, sung by the both of us and recorded with cello, banjo, and cajon (a percussive wooden box that were originally made out of drawers). This is a VERY long version that needs to be edited and perhaps even re-arranged into something less plodding and dismal. But here it is in its current (4 yr. old) existence:

And here are the lyrics:

BLUE ROOM

A haunted ultimatum.(PS. I gave all our songs little descriptions like this… I guess I thought it was helpful at the time)

they knock down the door
misguided thoughts that
ravage my soul
I fall to the floor
Fall prey to the story
I’d rather ignore

then you came through the door
but yours was a soul
they had learned to ignore
There’s no fight anymore
nothing to rescue
nothing left to console

The ghosts seep in through knots on the boards
that make up the walls of my little blue room
They put on my clothes and dance in a row
Laughing and mocking my little blue room

You said there be no more
said it was done
said you were finally whole
then you fell to the floor
fell prey to the story
you’d rather ignore

The ghosts seep in through knots on the boards
that make up the walls of my little blue room.
They swim through my hair and leave me in braids
deep in the corner of my little blue room

Choral Voices

We’ve come this far
to be chained down and dragged
to lose everything
that we’ve ever had

They’ve come this far
To flush out my soul
To scrape with their nails around any hole
We’ve come this far
to be chained down and dragged
to lose everything that we’ve ever had

There’s nothing left to mourn
You told me the stories
And I stayed to hear more
That memory was the last
Take it or leave me
as another ghost of your past

The ghosts seep in through knots on the boards
that make up the walls of my little blue room.
Their hands are too cold and their eyes are like stones
they swim through my hair and they put on my clothes
They bring with them rain and they ride on the wind
circling in eddies
deep in the corner of my little blue room

Copyright 2009 Justine Mendoza

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