Multi-genre singer/songwriter, previously with The Mediocres (Chicago, IL), Swimmer Monkey (Silicon Valley, CA), and currently "Clot 1" of The Garden Clots.
Jakob Wynn was 25
And he had lived an honest life
Until they found his fingers in the till
Failing crops made him unable
To put food upon the table
And I can hear his children crying still
Gwendolyn kept head held high
And steadfastly would not deny
Her lover’s sigil’s colors weren’t the realm’s
For lack of better reason
The council called it treason
She called his name out as the ax blade fell
Punishment meted as planned
All through a swing of my hand
An hourglass empties its sand
Then turns ‘round again
The minstrel was a clever one
Until one simple song he sung
Made reference to the stoutness of the queen
His highness wasn’t entertained
And he made sure his last refrain
Would separate his shoulders from his brain
Punishment meted as planned
All through a swing of my hand
An hourglass empties its sand
Then turns ‘round again
Mother you think me a monster
But those brought before me were tried
Softly a prayer I did whisper
As they died
Punishment meted as planned
All through a swing of my hand
An hourglass empties its sand
Then turns ‘round again
