We are playing at 10 or 11.   Tell all your friends — this is our last show before we rebuild our sound!

It’s only 8 bucks for an all-day pass (in advance), and the music goes from 4pm into the night!  Bring your friends — we’re on at 7!

The Tractor is great.  Pablo Trucker and The Legendary Oaks are awesome.  And we’ll be playing songs off the recent album “Aftermath” plus a few newer ones.   You are cordially invited to bring yourself and everyone you know!

Everyone who came out - thank you! We had a great time!

This night has been a very long time in the making, and we really hope you can join us!

PS - Pillow Army is releasing a CD too!

And these words are too good for my mind
For my mind is a yellowing hue
I recall only times when these meaningless rhymes could still bring recollection of you.

And my mind is too good for myself
For my selfish dark tenant within
Well, I’d say that I wish that I’d stayed a day more, but the staying was doing me in.

And my self is too good for my god
For my god is an odd little one
I should keep his wings clipped and the talons declawed, but dear, that would be having no fun.

And I could spend all my life on this letter goodbye
But I’d be rude to presume what I’m saying is new
And the more that I try just to tell you a lie
All the harder it is to deny.

Well I picture you reading this now
With your feet in that shallowing foam
Can you dare just to stand in the beckoning sand as it calls all its scavengers home?

And I know what you think I will say
That I’m seeking some pardon in you
Well I’m sorry to rain on your sunny parade, but dear, sorry’s not something I do.

I could spend all my life on this letter goodbye
But I’d be rude to presume what I’m saying is new
And the more that I try just to tell you a lie
All the harder it is to deny.

Well I can’t make it any more plain
That this poem is not worth your time
Don’t you try to explain all the twists in my brain, cause dear, I’m just a picturebook rhyme.

And I probably look like a fool
Even putting this pick to a string
But you’ve traded your youth for a gambler’s truth, when I’d settle for something to sing.

I could spend all my life on this letter goodbye
But I’d be rude to presume what I’m saying is new
And the more that I try just to tell you a lie
All the harder it is to deny.

The suppertime traffic, like rainforest frogs
The wax on the moon, just refinery smog
And when you look out on that New Jersey night
You’re strong if you make it to day with your sight.

Close your eyes, close your eyes.
It’s not your time to rise.

I sleep in the morning in broad light of day
The shadows in corners, and the night birds at bay
And why I’m so tired, I can’t really say
The edge of the bed’s getting farther away.

And maybe that clock’s got a new pair of wires?
Their counting goes backwards to a requiem choir
I’ll jump through the thunder, I’ll roll through the fire
It’s better than laying with all these empty desires.

What do I want from this life?
I am a failure – a useless device.

Don’t tell her you love her before you escape
Don’t fake it with laughter, or a lingering embrace
Don’t step on a train car that’s not on a track
This all will make sense when you find that thing that she lacks.

Well I made me a statue – a poem in bronze
And no one can see her so they all just move on
Well, you are in luck, dear, cause I am your one
And I’ll be round this way, when your wandering day’s done

Close your eyes, close your eyes.
It’s not your time to rise.
I’ll tell you what you should do:
Just close your eyes, till someone find you.
The only problem is where does it end?
What hope for the ghosts that your slumber defends?
And who is it steering your nose to the fight?
Your softening heart, or your hardening pride?