The Man Who Broke In Two

There is a question that has come up every time I’ve talked about songwriting with other people. That is, what comes first? I still don’t know the answer, but there seems to be a general consensus with most songwriters I’ve talked to that really, anything can come first. Sometimes it’s the lyrics, sometimes a melody, maybe a guitar riff or even just an idea for a beat.

In any case, this song was 100% lyrics first. The lyrics carry the song, they’re the point and express a message I’m trying to get across. They are so much at the heart of the music that I thought, “heck, why not just put them in here?” So, here’s the video and below are the (many) lyrics.

Peace,
Eran

PS. One last thing: most of what you’re seeing in the video is thanks to Allie’s creativity and artsy crafty ability. Oh, and of course the vegetables from our CSA. Later today they will live  out their afterlife in a delicious curry!

The Man Who Broke In Two

I heard a story of a man who broke in two,
right side, left side, split right through.
He tried as hard as one can,
to pull together again.
But each side would repel
’till he finally fell.

It all started with a little itch,
down the back of his neck where he barely could reach.
So he called on a friend,
to lend him a hand,
but the itching persisted,
and he became addicted.

oh, the man who broke in two

He called on his friend more and more,
and the itch grew to an open sore.
he would think, “I should quit”
but he couldn’t do it.
The sore hurt more each day,
no more time for delay

That’s where the two sides come in.
As if right hand and left hand grew a brain.
each developed a plan,
to start easing the pain,
but they could not agree,
on a modus operandi.

oh, the man who broke in two

The right hand decided to sit out.
Refusing any action no matter what.
Better die of starvation,
than of self mutilation.
the wound will heal,
by sheer power of will.

The left had a different take,
claiming doing nothing is a dire mistake.
cold turkey won’t work,
causing catatonic shock.
The man must eat and stay rested,
else the wound gets infected.

The friend became quite concerned,
” I won’t scratch your itch if you won’t let it mend.”
The man let out a huff,
“Don’t give me your guff,
you’re preaching to the choir,
now, please scratch a little higher.”

The hands grew more obstinate each day.
Continued to pull further and further away.
The man pled for a deal,
like doing less while trying to heal.
But neither side would sway,
and the sore turned to a seam
that started to fray.

That’s the story of the man who broke in two.
Right side, left side, split right through.
He tried as hard as one can,
to pull together again,
but both sides repelled,
and look where it led.

oh, the man who broke in two

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