Clothe Yourself in Righteousness
by Jon Watts
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Digital Album
Immediate download of 10-track album in your choice of MP3 320, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.
Every Monday a new song from the album will become available. To hear the entire album now, you must download it.Buy Now $10 USD
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Smithfield Market pt 2
02:27
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Lifted Up
04:32
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The Burden of Vision
03:44
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Don't Doff Your Hat
04:25
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Let's Get Naked
02:25
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about
Don't see all the songs? Check back in next Monday! (or download the album!)
credits
released 23 September 2011
Written by Jon Watts
Violin by Marina Vishnyakova
Cello, Mixing and Mastering by Jake Thro
Written by Jon Watts
Violin by Marina Vishnyakova
Cello, Mixing and Mastering by Jake Thro
tags
license
All rights reserved
feeds
Feeds for discography
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Sep 2011 -
Sep 2011 -
Jun 2009 -
Mar 2007 -
Apr 2006 -
Apr 2004
contact / help
For help with downloads, click here.
For all other inquiries, click here.
- Track Name: Smithfield Market pt 2
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Smithfield Market, early in the day
the crowd parts around him
and the people fall away
mothers cover childs' ears for fear of what he'll say
He says:
"I'm naked because we all are
and God sees through this mess.
Your identity's a farce
before birth and after death
you're not a banker or a lawyer
or a well-to-do man
You're just another beggar
with outstretched hands
and you could fill them up with beauty
you could fill them up with joy
you could fill them up when times are rough
with the glory of the
Lord."
"But you wrap yourselves in linens
and you wrap yourselves in silks
and you wrap yourselves in blood and hell and guilt."
______________________
And he didn't choose to come here.
If he made a choice at all,
it was to listen, and when he heard it,
heed the call.
And he's been given legs to stand on
He's been given hearts to open
He's been given gifts and burdens plenty,
knowing that he's broken.
So let him be naked.
Don't avert your eyes.
Take it as a sign that it's time to drop disguises.
Stop hiding behind silence.
Stop hiding behind noise.
Stop hiding your own violence.
Stop hiding from that still, small voice. - Track Name: Lifted Up
-
And for a moment there
I was ground down
I had my chin on my chest,
infested surround sound.
But I took a breath.
I took a moment.
No,
the rest of this poem's
dedicated to our closeness.
The remainder of my fame
is aimed at saving all the
hopeless.
I'm committed to this human face and
focused.
So now I'm lifted up
and now I'm lifting others with me.
When my silence is serenity's
a sign I'm living simply
and I'm simply living
in this complex world that we've been given.
And I salute the Amish
and all the other life affirming products
of considering our tolerance for process.
It's like a long conversation
in which everyone's involved,
like a deep breath
before you make that phone call.
It's like a solemn, sullen song
that's been written and exists
solely so some lungs can laugh,
only after, in sadness, they've
sung along.
So let's make a contract now:
a contractual agreement
that we'll only be what we really are.
And if you're scarred, then
let me see your scars.
If you're lonely
I get lonely too
and I'm here to rest with you.
Or to wrestle you.
If you need a vessel for the truth,
I'll be a son of a bitch
or the father of our youth
but I'd rather just rest
Let's get arrested.
Only time can test
all this time that we've invested.
If our settlement gets better
in these seven solemn days
I'll be a weatherman
predicting all this rain on faith
that intuition is correct
or I'm supposed to be wrong
like
writing a song
when the notes
have a will of their own
or herding cats into a barn
when they haven't heard
reports that there's a storm on.
And now I'm lifted up
and now I'm lifting others with me.
When my silence is serenity's
a sign I'm living simply
and I'm simply living
in this complex world that we've been given.
And I salute the Amish
and all the other life affirming products
of considering our tolerance for process.
It's like a long conversation
in which everyone's involved,
like a deep breath
before you make that phone call.
It's like a solemn, sullen song
that's been written and exists
solely so some lungs can laugh,
only after, in sadness, they've
sung along.
I'm saying
maybe our sadness
is a natural reaction
to the sad state of living
that's been so in fashion.
This is babylon
and this is heaven on Earth
and since the day of my birth
every breath has been work
and it's worth it.
A solemn, sullen song is just the surface.
It's a tool to be used
for a purpose.
Celebrating life,
celebrating yearning,
celebrating sadness
and our infinite capacity for learning
how to be sad and joyful in the midst of all this mess...
learning how to love life in our faithlessness.
Learning how to love,
especially ourselves.
Forgiveness is a practice that's essential to my health
forgiveness is the difference between heaven and hell
that's not some afterlife shit, I'm talking now.
Sometimes I distance myself
because we're not living deeply
but there's nothing more shallow than alone.
And that's the burden of vision
it's this gift I've been given
and it can help or it can hurt the world I know.
And now this pit that I've lived in
self-indulgent and rigid
looked a whole lot different from below.
And now my life on the surface
is authentic, it's purpose
is to be who I'm here to be
and grow.
So now I'm lifted up
and now I'm lifting others with me.
When my silence is serenity's
a sign I'm living simply
and I'm simply living
in this complex world that we've been given.
And I salute the Amish
and all the other life affirming products
of considering our tolerance for process.
It's like a long conversation
in which everyone's involved,
like a deep breath
before you make that phone call.
It's like a solemn, sullen song
that's been written and exists
solely so some lungs can laugh,
only after, in sadness, they've
sung along. - Track Name: The Burden of Vision
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He's in love with the sound of the rain.
Refrain.
Every time around is a little more pain.
Every time around is a bit less change.
Every time that the sound of the speech is the same,
he's to blame.
He's to blame for everything that once was
but now isn't.
He's convicted of his own cynicism
because it feels like home.
He wasn't built for the road
but he studied it, so
now he listens to the rhythm
of the television
in an inner city kitchen
in a little Christian mission,
saving souls like his own.
Because he knows the hunger
and he knows the fire
and he knows how it feels to reject desire
and if he had another life to live
shit, he'd want to live it
but he'd probably find a dead child
or saint to give it to.
He'd give it to you if you knew him.
You're part of what he loves.
The Spirit speaks through him
and he looks up.
Because he worships the infinite.
That means everything.
He doesn't even hate his own hate.
And as the television
blares out its lies,
he smiles
and puts some food upon your plate.
Some would call him a saint
but that makes him uncomfortable...
not to say he's to attached to his comfort.
He's loving it.
Whatever "it" might be.
He's not ashamed to say that he's a subject.
Instant gratification gets put off
for long walks and talks with God.
He doesn't pretend to know
why there's so much suffering.
He just serves the food
and goes home and
sobs.
-------------------
And when he's done crying,
the anger stops.
There's a blurry world through his own tears.
And in that blurry world, combining everything,
no lies or distinctions interfere.
And he sees it then:
the beauty in the symphony.
Even in our anger and our fear,
we're so beautiful.
This life is so beautiful.
The truth is here
and it's clear.
And he's not blind.
His eyes are open.
He can see all the things that we call "bad".
But it's redefined
and at times its spoken.
He can see and he's free to be
sad. - Track Name: Don't Doff Your Hat
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The scene is calm.
The pastor speaks.
The people sit
in their seats.
The aisles are long.
The church is dark.
It's nearly impossible
to find your spark.
A woman coughs
a baby cries.
The echo is infinite
You close your eyes.
The air is musty
it smells like dust.
You're wondering why
You keep coming back.
I mean, you could be working
or flat on your back,
enjoying the gifts of the creation.
But a matter of law
is a matter of fact.
You pay a tithe to the church.
You pay more than a tax.
You pay in spirit.
Your children are hungry.
The preacher spouts threats
about going to hell
and paying your debts
and you believe him
because he wears that hat.
Then...
In strolls George Fox,
looking like he knows something,
speaking in verse
as if the words weren't rehearsed.
He makes people panic
and they turn away, afraid;
immediately apprehensive
until they heard him say,
"Yo, pastor,
this pulpit is sacred
but so is the shop where I bought my shoes
and these people are sacred
as they're sitting in their pews
they don't know God's love
any less than you."
And sometimes,
when the man is through with his verse
the people rise up
and follow him out of the church
but most times he just gets himself arrested.
He says "powers are vested
in only the few
but God vested his power into you."
It's like this mister Quaker
in your broad brim hat.
You don't doff that hat for nobody.
And if you did doff it,
often its a solemn
little following
of Christ
or the Inner Light.
Whatever you can call it.
In a prison in Exeter
a prisoner got a letter.
He sits in the corner unspoken.
They said he healed people.
Yhey said he might be Christ
with the letter next to him
unopened.
He had written hundreds of pamphlets
to the enemies of Friends.
God was sending him to
listen to the answers,
but one fanciful question
that he had to entertain,
in the same way
as he prayed to understand it.
James Naylor hadn't slept for days.
He might have missed the gameplan
in the following ways
but it also might be true that he was faithful.
He keeps saying the saviors don't favor the few
and that Christ speaks through me too.
It's like this mister Quaker
in your broad brim hat.
You don't doff that hat for nobody.
And if you did doff it
often its a solemn
little following
of Christ
or the Inner Light.
Whatever you can call it.
And is he simple?
Hell yes
that man is simple,
with his simple dress
his simple speech
a simple smile upon his dimple.
When he walks down the street
that street is his temple
cause when you got the right sentiment
every place is sentimental.
And when he sees a noble man
he doesn't call him "you"
because he's talking to one person
not to two.
Because he's kind of a leveller
and he's kind of a ranter
and he's standing with a lantern
trying to show you the light,
cause when the Spirit's on fire
it can burn so bright.
It's like this mister Quaker
in your broad brim hat.
You don't doff that hat for nobody
and if you did doff it
often its a solemn
little following
of Christ
or the Inner Light.
Whatever you can call it.
Okay, so to Mr. George Fox,
Don't doff your hat.
And to James Nayler,
Don't doff your hat.
And out to Margaret Fell,
Don't doff your hat.
And to Solomon Eccles,
Don't doff your hat.
Isaac Penington...
Don't doff your hat.
And to John Woolman,
Don't doff your hat.
I said Lucretia Mott,
Don't doff your hat.
And out to William Penn,
Don't doff your hat. - Track Name: Together We Compose This Bloody, Bleeding, Beating Drum
-
I once had a job but I lost it in high school.
Whenever I fooled myself into thinking that I needed their help
I was their fool,
but now I'm my fool.
And now I sign pools of rhymes into time cycles.
I align myself with this bed of nails that's been recycled
until I'm finally alive and dying at the same time.
And when I sigh then I'm sighing for peace,
and when I die then I'll rest there.
Where I get my breath there's a source of oxygen,
a solidness imbued with phosphorous,
and a solemn intolerance for anything but love,
and it's rooted in love.
It's rooted in beauty.
It's rooted in a sense of simpleness and ambiguity.
And so I'll focus on discernment and breathing.
We've all earned a learner's permit.
Permit yourself to grieving,
and be freeing,
and to teething when you're teething,
and see peace in believing bereavement's bereft brethren's
seven settlement's indebtedness to the betterment of love
and to the practice of love,
and to the sadness that comes
with the lack thereof.
I won't speak to the world when the world isn't listening
deeply.
That's why I waited this long to release this song of songs,
songs of Solomon enthroned with the wood of Lebanon,
songs entombed in the womb until I felt that there's room
to stop absconding with my pregnancy,
And now Ba'alhamon is expecting me,
expectantly.
And I'm incessantly setting precedence in the presence of the president
who presides presently over the peasantry.
I'll set aside a suit of simple symmetry.
Synthetically, I synthesize the story of what's natural.
It's a glass half full of embattled saturn plasma.
It's a boy,
no it's a girl.
It's a toy,
no it's the world's surface enduring certain circumstantial services...
super solemn. superficial. super sacrificial splurges in our endless bags of purchases.
The sermon at your service spoke to sympathetic tourniquets in need of seeking reassurance
for the next effeminate person to pool a possible burden.
I speak urgently because it's urgent.
This emergency's emergent,
and I'm a fuckin' word surgeon,
serving solace from my person,
signs of solidness ensuring
that I'm a growing a maturing little
butterfly.
I. Can. Fly.
Signed, my guardian angel,
staying sane at the same table as the stablest savior saves
all the other saviors,
bringing peace to your neighbors through osmosis.
The closest soldier knows this war is hopeless.
He knows that we're impoverished by the fists we've thrown,
so now our foes can go home,
and we can plow the ground with swords we've melted down
and use them to harvest all these seeds we've sewn.
So now we're saying prayers of gratefulness like grace is all we've known.
We're singing songs of freedom like they're songs we've always sung.
We're sweetly leaking Jesus juice like Abraham's last son.
Tell Isaac that his time has finally... come.
And now I'm looking at the moon like I'm the sun,
and she's reflecting passion back to me, the energy to run,
and I don't care that it's night time.
I don't care that day is done.
I don't care that all the owls stare and judge me like I'm dumb,
because I'm not dumb.
I know enough to know that I don't know.
My wisdom is sufficient to be quiet and to listen,
because in the basic-est of instances our languages are different
and the isolated brain is intrinsically indifferent
so I'm going to be a body and I'm beating like a heart,
and I'm hoping that you'll be the blood to travel with this art,
because the muscles might be tired.
They might be atrophied.
They might be looking to caffeine for energy they need.
But come on, let's get together.
Someone be the lungs.
Someone be the need to breathe, and
someone be the tongue.
Someone be the eyes and ears, and
someone be the hands
Someone who can persevere,
the feet on which we stand
and you're the rock, body.
No one's gifts left useless.
The Universe needs you to do the best that you can do with
just what you've been given,
with everything you've got.
Your finite contribution fills a hole that mine does not.
And together we can stand.
Together we can run.
Together we collect our calories straight from the sun.
Together we envision all our lives combined as one,
and together we compose this bloody, bleeding, beating drum. - Track Name: This is Just a (Love) Song
-
To: the most beautiful being in the room
Human being, I love living with you
in the Truth.
And if the power of Truth takes me away from you,
I'll have to love living that life too.
And if it takes you away from me, well
we already know how painful that would be.
It would be really, really, really, really
bad
but for all the good and all the hard times we've had
I love you and I miss you and I'm glad.
And this is just a love song
it's dedicated to my pain
dedicated to the times
that I've cried in the rain
it's dedicated to my own dedication.
And this is that sensation
when you're feeling really sad
and you realize that sadness is beautiful.
Sadness is suitable
and it's totally appropriate
for everything you've been through
This is that place where sadness and love can co-exist
you feel neither anger nor listlessness.
And maybe you feel love.
Maybe love songs can speak to your sorrow,
fall in love with tomorrow
and yesterday
re-learn how to play
And this is just a love song.
It's dedicated to you.
Dedicated to everything you've been through.
This is for you.
And if I showed up at your door, would you talk to me
Or would you call the police
and get me off the streets
because to love you right now would be crazy
I just came looking for the truth
because I love the truth
and I thought that I loved you too
but you were just a lie
and that's fine
it's your life
just don't bring your lies into mine.
And maybe you really do believe that I'm crazy
OK
praise be to God.
I didn't need you.
I just came looking for the truth.
It's sad that I had to drag it out of you
and your paranoid parents too
And this is just a love song
it's dedicated to this huge misunderstanding
dedicated to the year you left me stranded
dedicated to this place where we've landed
to the strange and subtle ways that we planned it
to the space and the grace in the misalignment
of all these planets.
No, this isn't for you.
This is dedicated to the Truth. - Track Name: How I Built Myself, With My Mother's Help
-
So now I'll pick myself up
and dust myself off
and write a little love song about myself
I'm still amazing
just this existence is crazy
how I built my self with my mother's help
and then emerged to learn the world that I'm going to serve is in tatters;
shattered
pieces on the ground is what I found.
So now I'm not feeling lazy and I'm not afraid.
I'm feeling brave.
Everyone around me's in pain
and I can listen to it
I can even love them through it
like, not take it on
just take it in
and stand for it.
Inhale exhaust and transform it into something
that's advertent, emergent and infallible like love
this healing that I'm feeling is a real thing
not a symbol
something you can touch.
So now I'll pick myself up
and dust myself off
and write a little love song about myself
I'm still amazing
just this existence is crazy
how I built my self with my mother's help
and then emerged to learn the world that I'm going to serve is in tatters;
shattered
pieces on the ground is what I found.
So now I'm beautiful.
That's not a guilty admission it's just a fact.
As badly as I've been treated, I'm resolved to not lose that.
And if that means feeling anger,
if it means not feeling love,
in a manner of speaking
a man or a woman sometimes has got to stand up
and that's beautiful.
Our oppressors are human.
They've got their own painful reasons
for the pain they inflict.
But forgiveness isn't trust.
Our anger is natural.
Sometimes it's myself that I've got to forgive.
So now I'll pick myself up
and dust myself off
and write a little love song about myself
I'm still amazing
just this existence is crazy
how I built my self with my mother's help
and then emerged to learn the world that I'm going to serve is in tatters;
shattered
pieces on the ground is what I found. - Track Name: Let's Get Naked
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Adam wasn't full of knowledge.
Adam was ashamed.
Adam only knew about
that one mistake he made
And the worst mistake ever
was to give these leaves to us
I mean, our own doubts and fears
would be perfectly enough
but no, we've got to hide them
and ignore what's at the roots
we're told to love our fig leaves
more than we love the truth
But I'm here to tell you Adam
I'm shedding all your shame
I'm throwing off this clothing
and I'm dancing in the rain.
I've got a lot to lose by speaking truth but even more to gain.
So let's get naked
let your shame fall away
like shedding blankets
let your fear and your identity
hang around your ankles
then let's run around
show the world the stuff we've found
the beauty we've kept hidden
underneath these
pounds and pounds
of extra clothing.
I'm shedding my self-loathing
and replacing it with trust.
I'm only here to love.
I'm through with thinking anyone's the judge.
And when we disrobe
we let the light shine in
we strip off the stuff that was left
from the lining
I'm not signing autographs
because I don't even have a name.
I left it at the party in a pile with all my pain
And I'm trained to cover up
I'm trained to hide my shame
I'm trained in the fine art
of trying to stay sane
In a world where judgment's passed
where people are condemned
we cover up our flaws long before
we work on them.
But I'm loving all my blemishes
with sentimental tenderness
I'm writing down these sentences
defenseless.
And let's get naked
let your shame fall away
like shedding blankets
let your fear and your identity
hang around your ankles
then let's run around
show the world the stuff we've found
the beauty we've kept hidden
underneath these
pounds and pounds
of extra clothing.
I'm shedding my self-loathing
and replacing it with trust.
I'm only here to love.
I'm through with thinking anyone's the judge.
