WEEK 22/52: The Diplomat


 

Buxton here. I wrote this song in early university, during a storm of heavy partying. My high school experience was fairly straight-edged, and when I finally discovered alcohol, learning my limits was a bit of a hit-or-miss operation.

During that period I’d spend puzzled Sunday mornings sorting through hazy, fragmented memories of the previous night. On occasion, an angry housemate would take me to task for something I’d said or done to offend, and I would find myself playing the diplomat. These days I don’t party so hard, but I still collect memories and store them in boxes. In case I forget, you see.

Music / Lyrics: Joel Buxton
Production: Steve Cruickshank
Art: Shane Heron

LYRICS
She didn’t shake this time, when I tried to fix her home,
She didn’t shiver like her body would explode

And her keeper was so kind, for a moment we’d understand it
And though I’m not the swooning type, I wanted to hold her hand

I don’t remember much of that I can’t believe that I said that,
I don’t remember what I do or what I say
I lock my life inside a box, I write the words that keep the thoughts,
Couldn’t keep track, so I’m a diplomat

This is magic, this is pristine, the minister was right when he said
We’re all weak, weak.
Gotta get home gotta get home gotta get home gotta get home, gotta get

I don’t remember much of that I can’t believe that I said that,
I don’t remember what I do or what I say
I lock my life inside a box, I write the words that keep the thoughts,
Couldn’t keep track, so I’m a diplomat

I’m a diplomat, I’m a diplomat, I’m a diplomat, I’m your diplomat, yeah

I don’t remember much of that I can’t believe that I said that,
I don’t remember what I do or what I say
I lock my life inside a box

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About brunswickproject

Every week, Steve Cruickshank and Joel Buxton meet in Joel's shitty kitchen, unplug the fridge, slug whiskey, and create a song. For 52 weeks. Or 'til somebody dies. Check out a new track on Soundcloud every Tuesday. http://www.soundcloud.com/brunswicktunes
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