Back in January a small whisper of the desperation in The United States, circa 2012, made its way through the internet to my apartment in Guatemala. Back in 2007 a man named David Carter of West Allis, Wisconsin, quit his job and told his co-workers that he was moving to New Mexico. He’d been living in a home owned by his mother, who had earlier died from cancer. Instead of moving, he went home, put a gun to his head and took his own life. His body wasn’t discovered for four years when the house was turned over to the city for failure to pay taxes. Something about the story gutted me, and I emailed my best friend, Matthew Grimm, the most talented songwriter I’ve ever known and wondered if he’d take a swing at telling this American story.
Before I’d written, he’d already worked out the chorus.
Here’s a demo that will feature on his upcoming album.
Editor-in-Chief, Michael Tallon
P.S. I have no idea if this link works with browsers other than Google Chrome. Sorry if you’re stuck out.
West Allis, by Matthew Grimm
Packed up his desk in a cardboard box
Maybe told em he’d send postcards from New Mexico
Eight years, same job, city payroll
Maybe someone said it was sad to see him go
Drove back to West Allis to the houses all in rows
Where days flit by like gray winter birds
And he forwarded his mail, paid the bills, took out the gun
And he went to a place where nothing hurts
Four years — unshoveled sidewalks and unmowed lawn
Four walls enclosing perfect desolation
Four years — you’d think someone might’ve noticed something gone
Four years of most mundane transmutation
Dust thou art
gone back unto the ashes of stars
Earned a bachelor’s at UdubM,
Had a girlfriend and daughter but it didn’t last
Moved into his mom’s house when cancer crept in
Mortgage paid so he stayed there once she passed
But the neighbors all recall not much of him after that,
In to work and back but mostly sight unseen
What questions went unasked and chasms left unfilled
A bullet’s least one answer to everything
Four years — unshoveled sidewalks and unmowed lawn
Four walls enclosing perfect desolation
Four years — you’d think someone might’ve noticed something gone
Four years of most mundane transmutation
Dust thou art
gone back unto the ashes of stars
I never knew him, but I guess nobody did, he made his
Choice, we make ours, the Earth endures
Maybe you’re your brother’s keeper not by code or creed or canon
But a simple hope that someone will be yours
Four years — unshoveled sidewalks and unmowed lawn
Four walls enclosing perfect desolation
Four years — you’d think someone might’ve noticed something gone
Four years of most mundane transmutation
Dust thou art
going back unto the ashes of stars
