Grass grows through the gravel where I sit,
People walking by, holding hands and shit,
And I'm just sitting here, all by my lonesome.
You got to pity poor lonesome me.
I fell in love with a viking girl, she cut off my ear,
Put it in her viking ship, and sailed away from here.
I fell in love with a country boy, he cut off my nose,
Carved it as a trinket and sold it at the fair.
And I'm just sitting here, all by my lonesome.
You got to pity poor lonesome me.
And I'm just sitting here, all by my lonesome.
You got to pity poor lonesome me.
Fireworks hang like jet engines in the air,
And the radio says space is becoming militarized.
It's the hottest summer on record nearly every year,
And it just wouldn't feel right to move away from here.
And I'm just sitting here, all by my lonesome.
You got to pity poor lonesome me.
And I'm just sitting here, all by my lonesome.
You got to pity poor lonesome me.
And I'm just sitting here, all by my lonesome.
You got to pity poor lonesome me.
People like to live by schedules and routines,
Some people even iron their blue jeans.
Lot's of people like to know what's going on.
You know I just lose track of time.
And I'm just sitting here, all by my lonesome.
You got to pity poor lonesome me.
Oh, people like to stand in line for their classes,
And people look like flies under magnifying glasses.
People like to carry on long conversations,
And people like to act like super heroes.
And I'm just sitting here, all by my lonesome.
You got to pity poor lonesome me.
And I'm just sitting here, all by my lonesome.
You got to pity poor lonesome me.
The second EP from Northern Irish singer-songwriter Bea Stewart runs from gentle folk to pillowy pop ballads, all perfectly executed. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 15, 2024