Coal in Hand
I always stood outside the drama until it found me here, alone
Always was the last to judge, never cast a single stone
I always sussed out the motivations, won’t assume what I don’t know
Until you thrust me in the spotlight where every word cuts to the bone
Now you have trained me to feed a part of me I didn’t know
It has changed me in ways I don’t want to ever show
Blood’s running cold
Trust bought and sold
A violence too hot to hold burns a hole through my hand
"You cannot fix him with forgiveness; he doesn’t know the sting of guilt"
"Suffering the consequences doesn’t make one the victim"
I can’t protect you with persistence from your own decisions
Love was never the elixir if this is "Stockholm syndrome"
And you have trained me to feed a part of me I didn’t know
It has changed me in ways I don’t want to ever show
While you explain what you needed, what you thought but never told
What was made and believed. You may never fill that hole
And my blood’s running cold
Since my trust was bought and sold
A violence too hot to hold burns a hole through my hand
And it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns
And I never learned to pretend for your most judgmental friends
I never dreamed I’d been assessed before a classist audience
Overheard underhand. Now all the voices tend to blend
An ultracrepidarian, incessant ringing in my head
With every word of dissent, the gas was lit with good intent
By opportunist sycophants or sympathetic innocents
Guess the absurdist defense—that narcissistic artifice
Begins to make a lot of sense after they’re sleeping in your bed
And it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns
I must release this burning coal before it burns a hole through my hand
I must release this burning coal before it burns a hole through my chest
I must release this burning coal before it burns a hole through my hand
The title theme of "Coal in Hand" references the Buddhist expression that "holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intention of throwing it." In the song, the speaker struggles to move past their shame and anger at a romantic betrayal, fueled by the gossip of past and present communities, newly amplified by revelations about the history of the interloper with whom the former partner is now entangled.
The song has been described to me as having "good 'f***-you' energy," which seems like a critical element for what is essentially (at least half) a breakup album (The future isn't what it used to be.), though the emotions expressed are actually a lot more complex.
Music & Lyrics by Tyler Jameson Newton
Performed & Recorded by Tye Newton
Produced & Mixed by Tye Newton
Consultation & Mastering by Justin Newton
Art direction by Tye Newton
Cover art design by Tye Newton
Photography by Tye Newton
Videos for
Coal in Hand
Coal in Hand
Coal in Hand
I always stood outside the drama until it found me here, alone
Always was the last to judge, never cast a single stone
I always sussed out the motivations, won’t assume what I don’t know
Until you thrust me in the spotlight where every word cuts to the bone
Now you have trained me to feed a part of me I didn’t know
It has changed me in ways I don’t want to ever show
Blood’s running cold
Trust bought and sold
A violence too hot to hold burns a hole through my hand
"You cannot fix him with forgiveness; he doesn’t know the sting of guilt"
"Suffering the consequences doesn’t make one the victim"
I can’t protect you with persistence from your own decisions
Love was never the elixir if this is "Stockholm syndrome"
And you have trained me to feed a part of me I didn’t know
It has changed me in ways I don’t want to ever show
While you explain what you needed, what you thought but never told
What was made and believed. You may never fill that hole
And my blood’s running cold
Since my trust was bought and sold
A violence too hot to hold burns a hole through my hand
And it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns
And I never learned to pretend for your most judgmental friends
I never dreamed I’d been assessed before a classist audience
Overheard underhand. Now all the voices tend to blend
An ultracrepidarian, incessant ringing in my head
With every word of dissent, the gas was lit with good intent
By opportunist sycophants or sympathetic innocents
Guess the absurdist defense—that narcissistic artifice
Begins to make a lot of sense after they’re sleeping in your bed
And it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns, and it burns
I must release this burning coal before it burns a hole through my hand
I must release this burning coal before it burns a hole through my chest
I must release this burning coal before it burns a hole through my hand
Music & Lyrics by Tyler Jameson Newton
Performed & Recorded by Tye Newton
Produced & Mixed by Tye Newton
Consultation & Mastering by Justin Newton
Art direction by Tye Newton
Cover art design by Tye Newton
Photography by Tye Newton
Lovelorn Lullaby
This is home, warmth, love, happiness
Time, gratitude
It’s my home with you
And I see you when I look around
In every inch of my life
I see the way I’ve felt with you
Glowing in this light
I can see, hear, feel us laughing and
Loving, singing, planning, dancing
It’s a dream
Falling asleep here with you missing
In our empty apartment
Feels like giving up
I’m so tired but I’m not ready
I’m not ready
It was "no more nightmares
Sleep easier, now we're home"
"We’re really living the dream, aren’t we?"
And now it’s "goodbye sweet dreams"
Our foundation crumbles as I sleep
The nightmare is awake, not me
Not me
Here is our home, new again; bare walls, patient with potential
The gold hardwood floor still waiting for the shadow of our black faux leather sofa
The forsaken guest room door ajar, beyond the dark, unwanted television
The bright, open kitchen wishing for the soundtrack of Elbow and Damien
Rising through the stairway landing where we’ll integrate our friends’ art on display
The old brick and space left naked for the photographs we’ll take but never frame
The hollow of the walk-in closet where we’ll laugh at how even your jeans fit me
In the nook with the red Japanese chair, the deluge will lull us both to sleep
The skylight in the vacant corner of the loft will cast our bed like a cathedral
Where I will sneak snapshots of you dreaming blissfully in that summer sun cascade
Nearby, the gas stove—sitting cold—will drive the winter from our bones
Beside the gap for the piano and the strings we’ll tune to summon the spring
And we will choose our favorite sad songs, substituting words to make them happy
Recorded evidence of our love, compellingly performed but incomplete
And we will learn to synchronize our walk and let the music move us in time
And I will try to lead you, hand in hand, cheek to cheek, your chest pressed to mine
We’ll embrace until the dance is over, then we will leave no trace of it behind
Only the bats in the ceiling will remember that vinyl record skipping in my mind
But I’ve already carved the shape of you into the songs and rhythms of my life
It’s too late to separate the future from the dream
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