the door broke when you slammed it shut,and the cracks kept reaching long after you left.through the floorboards, branching towards the hall,like vines that never rest...climbing like fire through the walls.a single spark that claims the whole forest -i know, i know... it's all for the best.but honestly, i would rather besafe from a distance than here…

when i fell to my kneesto sew the damage shut,i couldn’t believe…a bright, staggering lightcame flooding into mefrom out of the seams.

so i reached deeper in and pulled my whole world wide open,and for each broken mile, a billionmiracles happen at once in everything… in everything.

but i’m safe from a distance, right here.

everything i lovewas made of porcelain,ready to break.but the bright, staggering light,it anxiously waits inside.like nesting dolls, the secret hides.and like every birth,it was a necessary pain...i know, i know...it’s all worth the wait, worth the weight.

when all of the pieces align,when the balance is clearly defined,

we’ll sigh and we’ll settle downfor the first time.

but held in museum display,time pulls us further away.

and when we rebuild it,all of the details fade.

into the tide,where the sun fills our eyes,

only silhouettes will remain in the place

where our rare bird of grace appeared.

in our pale imperfect light,our palms will stabilize,

and your brightnesswill close our heavy eyes,

and we'll dream with you.we’ll dream with you.

when we awake, we are leftwith the eggshells inside of the nestand the promise that one day soon,

it will come back to us…when we reach into the night,

where the water will rise,your wings will unbend.in your brilliant display

all our worries will wash away.

on pale, imperfect eyes,chandeliers rely…

and the brightness willweave lace out of lightwhen we dream of you.

in our pale, imperfect light,our palms will stabilize,and the brightnesswill close our heavy eyes,when we dream of you.we’ll dream with you.

religion is a breeding groundwhere the devil's work is deeply found,with teeth as sharp as cathedral spires,slowly sinking in.

God knows that i’ve been naivebut i think it makes him proud of me.now it's so hard to separatemy disappointments from his name.

because shadows stretch behind the truth,where stained glass offers broken cluesand fear ties knots and pulls them tight.it leaves us paralyzed.

but in the end such tired words will rest.the truth will reroute the narrow things they’ve said.the marionette strings will lower and untieand out of the ashes, love will be realized.

God knows that we’ve been naiveand a bit nearsighted to say the least.it’s broken glass at children’s feetthat gets swept aside unexpectedly.

a single voicein an ocean of constant noise,

but somehow our ears were trainedto recognize when we hear you call our name.

side by side,every movement was memorized,

choreographed beforethe schools of fish were born.

their patterns and plans align, all in a glorious effort to survive.

there is no language for what we’ve seen,only the sweetness that bends us to our knees,

and all of these fumbling words to explain what it means,

but our hearts were buried deep in the sand.

the sea unlockslike the lid of a music box.

it shivers with foreign sound,as long as the gears stay wound,

the whales will sing their songall in a glorious effort to be strong.

there's no need to be afraid,overwhelming love cascades.

the melody will rise and swellas it finds its way inside the shell.

the mouth is a mirror,the mouth is a mirror,the mouth is a mirror.

we must watch what we say.

there is no language for what we’ve seen,

only the sweetness that bends us to our knees,and all of these fumbling words to explain what it means,but our hearts were buried deep in the sand.

you carved our initialsinto these family trees.but when the branches are bare and broken,love is so hard to reach.

we’ve learned to brace for the worstand to read the last pages first,surrender feels safe.

maybe the soul is the soil that holds the fallen seed,or the light pouring down in between the rain clouds,daring life to reach;or maybe it's the rings in the trunk of the tree,a birthmark time will leaveto measure the past.

but we can't dream when we're wide awakeor fall in love with a heart too strong to break.

faith is expensive to taste,and time is borrowed loose changethat’s already been spent.

maybe the soul is the tone of voice that unearthed the words that we needed…

maybe the soul is a suitcase that holds the backup plan -a collection of keys and the patience we need to start again.maybe it’s the thresholds that swallow us whole

as we learn to let go,in spite of the dirt on our clothes.

there is glass between our touch,phantom limbs of former love…

and the truth is that I am so terrified

that the callous is deeper than the surface of our skin.

and it takes us twice as long, it takes us twice as long to heal.

we’ll lift up the ground to seethe system of roots beneath.

gears turn, endlessly,to bring the world back to life

like clockwork, when it dies.

the cadence of beating hearts,the click of its moving parts

grows louder and louderfrom this restless earth...

future gardens wait patiently belowand somehow we smell them blossom

through the snow.

still unsatisfied,we chase what we’re denied.

as generations wait,we can’t resist the taste of possibility.

gears turn, endlessly,to bring us back to life again.

like clockwork, we begin.

when we were youngour words were innocent -whiter than snow,awkward and slow.

now when we speak,we risk an avalanche.but that’s not enough nowto reroute our plans.

i believe that we’ve got it wrong, got it wrong.we’ll realize when it’s said and done, said and done,that in our words we’ve lost so much morethan we’ve ever won.

the aftermathis cracked wood where fences stoodand the broken bones of our childhood.

in our trembling fear,we put words inside God’s mouth.we cover our tracks and get so proud of ourselves,we get so proud of ourselves,we get so proud of ourselveswhen we get away.

i believe that we’ve got it wrong, got it wrong.we’ll realize when it’s said and done, said and done,that in our words we’ve lost so much morethan we’ve ever won.

it’s in our nature to complicate,but in the end it’s the casualtiesthat carry all the weight.

only the eyes of owls can be seen here;they are the stars, they radiate.

and every constellation is a fraction of God’s DNA

that we were made to notice and navigate.

as the moon commands the tide to balance the weight of change,

we must learn to follow all the same.

when the northern lights were born,the color poured into our eyes,

like tipping a glass with the ocean inside.

into the darkness,we will send our symphonies -

a shorthand of existence,a slowly turning key,

the voyager will leave uswith this modest memory of home.

when the sunlight wakes the earthfrom its deep sleep,all creatures bloom.

and through lifted lashes, all is new.

as a newborn recognizesits mother’s voice from inside the womb,

may we remember the warmth of our youth.

the overture was written,like the calm before a storm.

with hummingbird precision,we must follow every chord..

time-lapse reveals a slight of hand,it unties the rules of time and plan.stillness is only a state of mind,a blind spot that brightness has left behind.wet paint is a privilege that we will find.

as the wrist of an artistpulls the foreground into the frame,we must learn to focus, all the same.

all these restless conversationshave tied a string to every living thing,and our illustrations will draw them near.

so slowly i’m losingwho i’ve sworn to be.a promise in pencilthat years have made so hard to read.i’ve spent my life building wallsbrick by brick and bruise by bruise...a birdcage religion that whispered me to sleep.

but time is spinning silkthat coils ruthlessly;with the devil’s patience,it binds my hands so quietlythat soon it becomes a part of me.

so soften these edges and straighten out my tie.and help me remember the hope that i have compromised.

please be a broken record for me.

if only worry could make it change,suddenly our world would take new shape;

on miles and miles of green screenslove hangs on invisible strings.

so roll up your sleeves, this could take some time.

everything waits on assembly lines - but not here.in the emergence of plan,

we’ll be surrounded by hands.

the storyboard outlines our escapeand second guesses will be erased;

on the cutting room floor everything falls into place.

if only our futures could be tamed,suddenly our past would have no say.

and in the emergence of film, pouring overhead,our bodies relearn how to feel.

and somehow the screen embodies every idealas the orchestra so sweetly reveals,

and the background artist carries us there…the conflict compliments repair.

we're all on the edge of our seats,we're all on the edge of our seats

until the end.

all this to say,our future is a blank page

that we chose to pour ourselves intowhen God pressed play.

and we'll drag our pensinto these parallel lines to record and to articulateeverything we find.

as decades unlace,we'll pause and carefully trace;our shadows are puddles of ink that our memory saves.

layer by layer, the framework was formedon an epic of paper:we breathe to explore.fast-forward motionwill gracefully showthe flickering storythat all of our sketches unfold.

before we were bornGod gently told us the truth,but understanding is something that stopsas our bodies bruise.

so we’ll concentrate,constantly rewinding tapes.was the ghost just a glare on the lensthat our minds create?our minds create...when God pressed play.

layer by layer, the framework was formedon an epic of paper:we breathe to explore.and fast-forward motionwill gracefully showthe flickering storythat all of our sketches unfold.

Kim O’Neal (for infinite encouragement, love & guidance in our lives; & for making all of this possible for us!), Cayt Belsan, Therese English, Jason Toth, Susan Voelz, John Goodmanson, Greg Norman, Geoff Benzing, Jeremy Larson, Ryan Francesconi, Van Dyke Parks, Inger Carle, Melissa Bach, Vannia Phillips, Paul Von Mertens, Jason Roebke, Jason Ward, Chad O’Neal, Andy Argyrakis, Bjorn Thorsrud, Samantha Lamb, Jon Foreman & Switchfoot, Isaac Slade, Wedge-wood Circle/Sapere, Charlie & Andi Peacock & all at Art House America, Mike Upton & Kala Brand Ukuele, Micheal Taylor at Mesa Boogie, Reverend Guitars, Alexandra Patsavas, Chop Shop Music, Jeremy Gudauskas, Tom Rossmanith, Michael LeMastrie, Joel Limpic, Kelly Brown, Chris Hess, Dave Owens, Jessie Gingrich, Matt Rucins, Jim Alleman, Chris Howell, Shauna Neiquist, Anne Jackson, Steve Henderson, Absolute Punk, The Music the Message, Chad Pendleton, Seth Hurd, Dylan Peterson, Cameron Strang, Jamie Tworkowski, Dave Wilton, Dan Wilton, Ryan Newell, Aaron Wood, Trevor Hoger, Kyle Schonewill, Tim Wildsmith, Andy Kadzban, Thad Williams, Micah Nichols, Taylor Maxwell, To each of the incredible guest string players who lent us their talents at shows throughout the past year, Andrew Nicolaou, Bruce O’Neal, Bill & Donna Matthews, The Perdues, The Englishes, Marissa O’Neal, Katie Randall & to God, for blank pages.

Ryan O’Neal - Voice, Pianos, Ukuleles, Guitars, Keyboards, etc.Dan Perdue - Bass, Pianos, Keyboards, etc.

Produced by: Sleeping At LastMixed by: John Goodmanson

Engineered by: Greg Norman, Additional Engineering by: Bjorn ThorsrudMastered by: Jason Ward at Chicago Mastering Service

Recorded at Electrical Audio in Chicago, IL & at our home in Wheaton, ILMixed at Electrokitty Studios in Seattle, WA

Executive Producing & Management by: Kim O’Neal - Capturing Wishes Management

All songs & lyrics written by: Ryan O’NealMusic arrangements by: Sleeping At LastAll songs © 2009 Asteroid B-612 (BMI)

Paintings by: Geoff Benzing - www.benzingart.comPhotograph by: Samantha Lamb - www.samanthalambphotography.com

Art Layout by: Sleeping At Last

“Porcelain,” “Slow & Steady,” “Timelapse,” “Green Screens” & “All This to Say” Strings Arranged by:Sleeping At Last & Susan Voelz, Orchestrated & Coordinated by: Susan Voelz

“Unmade” & “Naive” Strings Arranged by: Sleeping At Last“Chandeliers” Strings Arranged by: Jeremy Larson“Clockwork” Strings Arranged by: Van Dyke Parks

Musicians:Jason Toth - Drums, Susan Voelz - Violin, Inger Carle - Violin, Vannia Phillips - Viola, Melissa Bach - Cello

Paul Von Mertens - Flute & Bass Clarinet on track 6, Jason Roebke - Upright Bass on track 6.Ryan Francesconi - Bulgarian Tambura on tracks 1 & 5, Mandolin on track 4, Banjo on tracks 4, 5 & 9,

Guitars on track 9, Jeremy Larson - All Cellos, Violas & Violins on tracks 2, 3 & 7All other instruments performed by Sleeping At Last

Ryan plays: Kala Brand Ukuleles, Mesa-Boogie Amplifiers & Reverend Electric Guitars

sleepingatlast.com - myspace.com/sleepingatlast - facebook.com/sleepingatlast - twitter.com/sleepingatlast

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