I need to confess something, it’s something everybody has likely done at one point or another but nobody ever talks about (like farting) – you know when people come to you and give you something to read/listen to/play/see? Then you say "yeah, yeah, sure – I’ll check it it out – thanks." Then you promptly forget. Sadly this is something I do more often then I should and I did it with my sister when she recommended a song for me…she told me to listen to a song by Patrick Park called Something Pretty. I was like – "yeah, sure, I’ll listen to it – no problem". I even listened to the first three seconds so I had a loophole if she asked –

 

Her – "did you listen to it?"

 

Me – "Huh?"

 

Her – "Patrick Park’s song?"

 

Me – "Oh yeah sure…great song really."

 

Her (suspicious) – "reeeaaaallly?"

 

Me – "Oh yeah – an awesome song."

Anyhow – I actually listened to it the other day…and – wow…what can I say. This is an INSPIRED song with some serious lyrics and musically you can almost hear the celtic roots that underlay all country music. This is a SWEET song.

 

Oh – and to my sister (and everyone else) – I will actually do a better job of reading/listening/playing/seeing the things you suggest I do.  (insert sheepish grin here). Here are the lyrics:

 

SOMETHING PRETTY
lyrics © 2002 Patrick Park

Here I am, where I’ve been
I’ve walked a hundred miles in tobacco skin,
And my clothes are worn & gritty.
And I know ugliness,
Now show me something pretty.
I was a dumb punk kid with nothing to lose
And too much weight for walking shoes.
I could have died from being boring.
As for loneliness,
She greets me every morning.

At the most I’m a glare,
I’m the hopeless son who’s hardly there.
I’m the open sign that’s always busted.
I’m the friend you need, but can’t be trusted.

At the most I’m a glare,
I’m the hopeless son who’s hardly there.
I’m the open sign that’s always busted.
I’m the friend you need, but can’t be trusted.

Here I am, where I’ve been
I’ve walked a hundred miles in tobacco skin,
And my clothes are worn & gritty.
And I know ugliness,
Now show me something pretty.

At the most I’m a glare,
I’m the hopeless son who’s hardly there.
I’m the open sign that’s always busted.
I’m the friend you need, but can’t be trusted.

At the most I’m a glare,
I’m the hopeless son who’s hardly there.
I’m the open sign that’s always busted.
I’m the friend you need, but can’t be trusted.