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 be safe from a distance than here when i fell to my knees to sew the damage shut, i couldnt believe a bright, staggering light came flooding into me from out of the seams. so i reached deeper in and pulled my whole world wide open, and for each broken mile, a billion miracles happen at once in everything in everything. but im safe from a distance, right here. everything i love was 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... its all worth the wait, worth the weight.

when all of the pieces align, when the balance is clearly defined, well sigh and well settle down for 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 brightness will close our heavy eyes, and we'll dream with you. well dream with you. when we awake, we are left with the eggshells inside of the nest and 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 will weave lace out of light when we dream of you. in our pale, imperfect light, our palms will stabilize, and the brightness will close our heavy eyes, when we dream of you. well dream with you.

a single voice in an ocean of constant noise, but somehow our ears were trained to recognize when we hear you call our name. side by side, every movement was memorized, choreographed before the schools of fish were born. their patterns and plans align, all in a glorious effort to survive. there is no language for what weve 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 unlocks like the lid of a music box. it shivers with foreign sound, as long as the gears stay wound, the whales will sing their song all in a glorious effort to be strong. there's no need to be afraid, overwhelming love cascades. the melody will rise and swell as 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 weve seen,

religion is a breeding ground where the devil's work is deeply found, with teeth as sharp as cathedral spires, slowly sinking in. God knows that ive been naive but i think it makes him proud of me. now it's so hard to separate my disappointments from his name. because shadows stretch behind the truth, where stained glass offers broken clues and 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 theyve said. the marionette strings will lower and untie and out of the ashes, love will be realized. God knows that weve been naive and a bit nearsighted to say the least. its broken glass at childrens feet that gets swept aside unexpectedly.

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.

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

you carved our initials into these family trees. but when the branches are bare and broken, love is so hard to reach. weve learned to brace for the worst and 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 leave to measure the past. but we can't dream when we're wide awake or fall in love with a heart too strong to break. faith is expensive to taste, and time is borrowed loose change thats 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 its the thresholds that swallow us whole

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. well lift up the ground to see the 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 louder from this restless earth... future gardens wait patiently below and somehow we smell them blossom through the snow. still unsatisfied, we chase what were denied. as generations wait, we cant resist the taste of possibility. gears turn, endlessly, to bring us back to life again. like clockwork, we begin.

when we were young our words were innocent whiter than snow, awkward and slow. now when we speak, we risk an avalanche. but thats not enough now to reroute our plans. i believe that weve got it wrong, got it wrong. well realize when its said and done, said and done, that in our words weve lost so much more than weve ever won. the aftermath is cracked wood where fences stood and the broken bones of our childhood. in our trembling fear, we put words inside Gods mouth. we cover our tracks and get so proud of ourselves, we get so proud of ourselves, we get so proud of ourselves when we get away. i believe that weve got it wrong, got it wrong. well realize when its said and done, said and done, that in our words weve lost so much more than weve ever won. its in our nature to complicate, but in the end its the casualties that 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 Gods 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 us with this modest memory of home. when the sunlight wakes the earth from its deep sleep, all creatures bloom. and through lifted lashes, all is new. as a newborn recognizes its mothers 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 artist pulls the foreground into the frame, we must learn to focus, all the same. all these restless conversations have tied a string to every living thing, and our illustrations will draw them near.

if only worry could make it change, suddenly our world would take new shape; on miles and miles of green screens love 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, well be surrounded by hands. the storyboard outlines our escape and 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 ideal as 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.

so slowly im losing who ive sworn to be. a promise in pencil that years have made so hard to read. ive spent my life building walls brick by brick and bruise by bruise... a birdcage religion that whispered me to sleep. but time is spinning silk that coils ruthlessly; with the devils patience, it binds my hands so quietly that 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.

all this to say, our future is a blank page that we chose to pour ourselves into when God pressed play.

and we'll drag our pens into these parallel lines to record and to articulate everything 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 formed on an epic of paper: we breathe to explore. fast-forward motion will gracefully show the flickering story that all of our sketches unfold. before we were born God gently told us the truth, but understanding is something that stops as our bodies bruise. so well concentrate, constantly rewinding tapes. was the ghost just a glare on the lens that our minds create? our minds create... when God pressed play. layer by layer, the framework was formed on an epic of paper: we breathe to explore. and fast-forward motion will gracefully show the flickering story that all of our sketches unfold.
Kim ONeal (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 ONeal, Andy Argyrakis, Bjorn Thorsrud, Samantha Lamb, Jon Foreman & Switchfoot, Isaac Slade, Wedgewood 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 ONeal, Bill & Donna Matthews, The Perdues, The Englishes, Marissa ONeal, Katie Randall & to God, for blank pages.

is: Ryan ONeal - Voice, Pianos, Ukuleles, Guitars, Keyboards, etc. Dan Perdue - Bass, Pianos, Keyboards, etc. Produced by: Sleeping At Last Mixed by: John Goodmanson Engineered by: Greg Norman, Additional Engineering by: Bjorn Thorsrud Mastered by: Jason Ward at Chicago Mastering Service Recorded at Electrical Audio in Chicago, IL & at our home in Wheaton, IL Mixed at Electrokitty Studios in Seattle, WA Executive Producing & Management by: Kim ONeal - Capturing Wishes Management All songs & lyrics written by: Ryan ONeal Music arrangements by: Sleeping At Last All songs 2009 Asteroid B-612 (BMI) Paintings by: Geoff Benzing - www.benzingart.com Photograph 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 & 7 All 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