from by Gregory Obis

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In my winter coat I found
Some old photo's kickin' round
From Chicago, New Years Eve,
Fourties, Whiskey, still naive

At a party on the Northside
I didn't really like you, I didn't really mind,
But sometimes feelings never die,
Love like weeds are fed with rye.

I've let some lies slip
Through my pursed lips
Worse, I never said:
I'm sorry.

On the roof was where I lied
To myself and your dough eyes
All of the truth that I kept
In the sheets of my twin bed.

Red cup, Black Dress
Secrets kept
From the world and
From myself.


from Swerve, track released May 19, 2012



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Gregory Obis Bennington, Vermont

Gregory Patrick Obis is a musician, engineer, songwriter, composer, and generally a pretty alright guy.

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