Neighborhood Saints

Dedicated to the people from our town who became neighborhood saints.

Written and performed by Dylan Owen
Featuring Louka
Produced by Skinny Atlas
Music by Skinny Atlas
Trumpet by Nate Sander
Electric guitar by Tommy McCormick
Recorded at Stand Up Sound by Ernesto Valenzuela
Additional recording at Engine Room Audio by Rob Grimaldi
Mixed by Billy Centenaro
Mastered by Chris Gehringer

I almost broke my knees, landing in the backyard with you
When we jumped from your second story bathroom window
And all the glass and mildew, that we went crashing into
Not every leap of faith we need to take will be that sacrificial
So we jumped from your house, hopped the wood fence
And ran through those backyards without leaving footprints
Sprinted through our late teen years in search of something
My dad says “You might not know what home is in your early twenties”
And if so, I don’t know how to find guidance
By now most of our friends got rich or died trying
And I’ve been waiting on a time that we can stop lying
When we think back on our lives and pour a drink out on the bonfire
There’s nothing worse than a burden this ingrained
There’s no soul search worth it where your soul isn’t in pain
There’s no cure for being homesick when it hits your veins
So listen, this is a prayer for the neighborhood saints
I tend to see the past like a religion, and I confess
I’ve followed it for long enough and it’s not gonna rise again
We all have parts of us that die, and there’s a time to part with them
I just hope I get the chance to start again
When the saints go marching in

Oh when the saints go marching in
When the saints go marching in
We’ll see our friends from the neighborhood again
When the saints go marching in

It almost broke my spirit, all the news I had to tell you
As we talked about the parts of our lives that wouldn’t last forever
Some things go missing, that adventure turns wise
We’re all just kids dealing with death for the first time
Beneath the cold silence of a neighborhood wake
Waiting in line to say a prayer for the neighborhood saints
A whole room of old pictures, enslaved in wood frames
Of a young face that later would change
When I die,
Give my notebooks to Anne
My roadtrips to Dan
My ribcage to Alaska, my cigar case to Sam
My love notes to Kay, before my love notes decay
My fingerprints to my mom, she can unfold my pain
My canteens to Elaine
My camp days to Jenny
My fanbase to Kia Ro
My landscapes to Ricky
The scars from my skin to my hometown skies
Give the stars back to Regina that I took from out her eyes
Cuz I tend to see the future like a miracle, and I’m afraid
I’ve waited for it long enough, and I’m not who it’s here to save
And I don’t fear it anyway, cuz I know we can start again
I just hope I’m not the only martyr then

When the saints go marching in


Oh when the saints go marching in
When the saints go marching in
We’ll see our friends from the neighborhood again
When the saints go marching in

Please rest in peace to the lives that died inside of us
I know it’s tough when good people leave our lives
We just need a little time and it’ll all be okay
Cuz when we get to heaven we’ll know a whole lot of saints
Please rest in peace to the lives that died inside of us
I know it’s tough when good people leave our lives
We just need a little time and it’ll all be okay
Cuz when we get to heaven we’ll know a whole lot of saints
Please rest in peace there are lives that died inside of us,
I know it’s tough when good people leave our lives
We just need a little time and it’ll all be okay
Cuz when we get to heaven
We’ll know a whole lot of saints.