Songs of Will T. Massey — “The Darkness Now”

One of Will’s later songs that he recorded on his iPhone and sent out to a limited number of people, starting in 2014. I have 11 songs he sent out that way, and six of those are already posted here. He even joked about releasing an album of them all — to be called “iPhone,” of course. He did re-record one of them, “Sometimes I Sing,” for his 2016 release, The Weathering. 

While the raw recording quality reflects their origins as demoes, the power of Will’s lyrical imagery remains as gripping as in his most polished recordings. This one in particular vividly paints a picture of an emotional landscape in stark relief. No video with captured images could ever improve on Will’s poetic vision here.

“The Darkness Now” — Will T. Massey, iPhone, 9-22-2014

I’m the rustle of the leaves when the wind blows.
I’m the frost upon the pane of your windows.
I’m an empty coffee cup, blowing down your street,
I’m a stray musician, looking for the beat.
I’m the city limits sign.
I’m the one that got away.
I’m a power and a teach and a prayer for yesterday.
I’m a lock that’s hanging open and always yours somehow —
I am the darkness now.

You’re a picture in the corner of the room.
You’re the magic in the morning, moaning low.
You’re a dusty, dirt road cross, and too many cigarettes.
You’re cold mesquite trees dancing in wind-blown silhouettes.
You’re broken miracles and crystals through the air.
You’re a hot dog I don’t buy at a lonesome country fair.
You’re a bitter, borrowed blessing and always mine somehow —
You are the darkness now.

We’re an old car that forgot the roads back home.
We’re a soulful sorrow seeping in our bones.
We’re the countryside between us and old bulls in the ring.
We’re the weathered corner by that hopped a southbound train
We’re a championship team in 2006.
We’re wild horses dying.
We’re a fire from little sticks.
We’re still old clocks and pennies and always ours somehow —
We are the darkness now.