Sooner or Later

I have been watching quite a few of the Declassified videos with Ben Folds and the National Symphony Orchestra, and suddenly the entire pre-chorus about “Paint a pretty picture” came to me fully formed, along with how it should be sung; of course, that’s not terribly surprising, given that I have been so focused over the last few months on fixing up this 200-year-old house while feeling increasingly like I’ll be doing that for the rest of my life.

So I spent some time thinking about other things that are canonically subject to entropy and age decay, where I just keep trying to fix whatever it is despite the fact that it will ultimately get the better of me, and I came up with:

• car (where my current one has been treating me well… knock on wood)
• job (the most recent of which I had to leave to keep it from wiping me out any further), and
• bod (which, well, I just do what i can).

Musically, I have been working hard to get more brass into the mix, especially after Hush in the Hall. I really wanted a similar sort of Declassified feel of a symphony and choir backing up a signer/songwriter, especially knowing that (like Folds… and like myself, clearly) I’d be including some wry vulgarity. It took some finesse and patience, but the music did get there, and I’m very happy with it.

I might change the cover, as it might not feel as light-hearted and philosophical as the song is intended to be.

[April, 2026]

Lyrics

This ol' car

The battery is flat as choir class

The rotor shriekin' like a broken wind

The muffler is chewin' broke glass

And

which grinds louder, the gears or my teeth?

Crank a metal station

Drown the caterwaul

Cover up the noises

so I can’t hear 'em at all.

I keep tryna fix it up

but

sooner or later

this ol’ car is gonna kill me

This ol' house

The framin's a hula when the dryer spins

The hallway staggerin' like a drunken toddler

The footin' is rottin' like sin

And

which leans harder, the stack or my spine?

Paint a pretty picture

Hang it on the wall

Cover up the holes

so I can’t see 'em at all.

I keep tryna fix it up

but

sooner or later

this ol’ house is gonna kill me

This ol' job

The pep talks are reekin' swamp gas

The admin lyin' like a moldy rug

The mission is stinkin' biomass

And

which chaps redder, my boss or my ass?

Write a pleasant email

choke down sips of gall

Cover up the orders

so I can’t smell 'em at all.

I keep tryna fix it up

but

sooner or later

this ol’ job is gonna kill me.

This ol' bod

The breathin' is choked as my jokes

The hipbones creakin' like a haunted house

The ticker is dancin' baroques

And

which sags lower, my heart or my scrote?

Go and see the doctor

pill prescription scrawl

Cover up the pains

so I can’t feel 'em at all.

I keep tryna fix it up

but

sooner or later

this ol’ bod is gonna kill me

Gettin' old is decay

But older's okay

Cuz you learn to piss first,

when the stairs groan and burst

under the lumberin' plumber

I keep tryna suck it up

cuz

sooner or later

some ol’ death is gonna kill me

…if dealin' with my mom don’t kill me first.