наконец нашел!) ну,правда без переводов. хотя здесь вроде все и так понятно

"Dying In New Brunswick"

You told me on your birthday all the things that this place had done to you.
And in the streets you walk.
You hide your face because they don't believe that it's true.
They say it doesn't happen that often.
But it's happening right now.

I'm writing you this letter to let you know I'm not alright.
And in this city the streets are paved with hate
And you cry yourself to sleep tonight.
And say "no, there aren't enough love songs in the sky."
You counted down the days till you could say "Bye-bye, city, bye-bye"
You're walking down on Union
You see the roads and know they're apart of you.

They say it doesn't happen that often
But it's happening right now.

I'm writing you a second time.
To let you know nothing here has changed.
The streets are still paved with hate.
So you can cry yourself to sleep tonight.

Will you look back on this night
As the day that ruined your life.
Will you look back on these city streets and say,
"Oh, God, where are you?"
In these city streets I hide my face.
I turn away when you look at me
And every night when I try and sleep.
I feel your hands all over my body.

You streipped away the street signs and shot out all the stop lights.



"Autumn Leaves Revisited"

The leaves will fall
And so will you
When you do, bury me under them too
Seconds pass; we'll make it through
Eventually we all go home
It won't be long
It won't be long

We walk along the wire tied between horizons
You close your eyes like it's nothing at all
Throughout the rise and fall, everything, everything
Changes, I will be here when you die

It won't be long
It won't be long
Until we find our way home

Did you hear the trumpets play the day your father died?
Did a violin swell those circles under your eyes?
Did you play the part straight, like a marcher?
Get lost in the beat, thinking and feeling
Did the drums in the streets make the people dance?
Or fall to their knees as the sound?
Knock the leaves from the trees
As they fall from the branch, the look beautiful
As they hung in the air

Spinning around
Did you float in the air?
Spinning around

There must be somewhere that cigarettes burn through the night
And the leaves don't abandon their trees to the light
Where the skies always clear
And the summer never ends

Won't you take me there?

The leaves will fall
So will you
When you do, bury me
Under them too
Seconds pass; we'll make it through

Eventually we all are going home


"Paris In Flames"


Now its time to wrap our fears in the night
And on the first day we'll dress this city in flames
After all the things you say
You hate me for being this way

Still you won't let go of old ideals
There is no headline to read at night
When the record slips and you're not holding the needle

We all sing the songs of separation
And we watch our lives bleed out through our hands
Thats how it was on the first day
We saw Paris in Flames

I think it's going to rain, rain down

Here in this collapsed lung of a borough
There is no sunlight
The sunlight is manufactured in a windowless room
Distant and incoherent
Businessmen hang themselves

The lower cast side is a jukebox playing the deadman's crescendo
The needle is a vector
An intersection that well all must cross
A dimly lit hallway where shadows of moths decorate the walls
Discard this message
Burn this city down

Discard this message
Throw this bottle back in the ocean
Rip this page from the history books
Smash all the street signs
Erase all the maps
Forget my name
Forget my face
Because it's going to rain

"Porcelain"


City of blue tile.
Figure in Ceramics.
Where we reach out.
Grab for Porcelain.

But it's too fragile to hold.
And it shatters in our hands.
In time the seasons will seal these shards.
Into the slits that denote your wrists.

Death is the answer.
To calculations composed of motions that are the same.
And secret and different (secretly the same).
A missing alphabet with a message for us.

When people die.
They leave a piece of us with them.
And holes in clouds are minutes passing.
Rescind this line and several ties.
The skyline unfolds into explanation.

That sometimes words give up.
And silently walk off the edge the edge of the page.
And here the cry opens up and reveals the word inside.
The crack in the porcelain.

The silent line of sky-lit eyes show.
Death up there shine more brightly than lives down here

"This Side Of Brightness"


I sewed it up Stitched all these dead end streets
Into the sewn up seams of my heartstrings unwind(unwound)
Like a petal pulled from an open flower.
Surrounds by fields where children sign but don't make a sound and don't

Break it off
This searching for what we may never find
And that says it all.
I hope that we will make it through..

The heartbreak that comes with just living through one day
All the good times that past and all the friends we lose in a lifetime on our way.

Here in this life we seem so lost.
On this side of brightness we don't know where to go.

I hope that we can make it

"Where The Circle Ends"


Mountain ranges
Mourning red bay at the bridges
Stab up at the coming blue horizon
Grey slides loosely off rooftops
Lands on the Incan desert ground and dies
A flock of little men touch down on the surface of the porchlight
Bronze fist soldiers return
To watch the twilight across the faces
Skylights ignite and explode
Scattering shards of april around the room
No one even lives here
We're too busy crashing our cars every morning at the same house
Paving the same roads
Unwilling to walk them
And even when we extend ourselves, its only to be included
In a world that's standing still
And so often we don't struggle to improve conditions
We struggle for the right to say "we improve conditions"
And so often we form communities
Only to use them as exclusionary devices
And we forget that somewhere man is beside himself with grief
And somewhere people are calling for teachers
And no one's answering
Somwhere a man stands, walks across the room, and breaks his nose on the door
And somewhere these people are keeping records
And writing a book
For now we can call it "The Book About the Basic Flaw
Or "The Book About the Letter "N"
Or "Any Title That a Book About a Man That No One Cares About Might Have"
And as we turn the pages we call out the sounds of nothing
The sounds of a vanishing alphabet


"In Transmission"


This sunlight cutting through the open fields.
Can't be communicated by radio waves.
And through this flashlight keyhole memory.
Receive a thousand signals and can't respond.

So keep your hands to yourself.
And relay the message to your friends that nothing's wrong.
Reverse reception on this lifeless satellite.
Push this button.
End the transmission.

So keep your hands to yourself
In this transit station reconnection to our lives.
In transit like my voice cutting through this line.

It's the same old song broadcasted on the radio.
Saying I'm not worth your time.
End the transmission.

This absence is making relations come undone it's breaking air waves I'm losing


"Streaks In The Sky"

It's just the southern road that you leave by and open windows in your car.
It's the breathing of the city that says leave me behind.

Forget tomorrow side with the open road.
Pulled apart for you.
In the window unlocked and left open.
For the rising sun taking you back home.

If we never meet again it would be too soon.
I'm glad I ran from you and now my life's a mess.
And I'll have to admit that I have made a mistake.
And every path that I take has lead me right back to here.
And I never should have left.

It's just the second chance that I dreamt of.
When you took me into your lives.
But there's a pear we have to climb over.
so get a running start.

Sitting here.
Waiting a year.
Hoping for something to change your mind and in this time I'll see that this is all we have.
Before I leave I'm opening that door in my house.
To face the ones I've left behind.
Portrait of a man who stayed.
His face is folded up and grayed