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i try to get my head clear, it's too full of ideas that i haven't thought of yet.
and time, clocks keep waving their hands, doing all that they can to get our attention,
but the days fly away down a clean interstate and i'm staring drunk at a map.
so i let hair down for the second time now, for the final time, now i had my fun.
but there's no returning from the places we've been, just repeat our slogan, never again.
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Does he kiss your eyelids in the morning when you start to raise your head? And does he sing to you incessantly from the space between your bed and wall? Does he walk around all day at school with his feet inside your shoes? Looking down every few steps to pretend he walks with you. Oh, does he know that place below your neck that is your favorite to be touched, and does he cry through broken sentences that I love you far too much? Does he lay awake listening to your breath? Worried you smoke too many cigarettes. Is he coughing now, on a bathroom floor?
For every speck of tile there's a thousand more, you won’t ever see. but you must hold inside yourself eternally.
Well I drug your ghost across the country and we plotted out my death. In every city, memories would whisper, Here is where you rest. I was determined in Chicago but I dug my teeth into my knees, and I settled for a telephone and sang into your machine. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
And I kissed a girl with a broken jaw that her father gave to her. She had eyes bright enough to burn me. They reminded me of yours. And In a story told she was a little girl in a red-rouge, sun-bruised field and there were rows of ripe tomatoes where a secret was concealed.
And it rose like thunder, clapped under our hands. And it stretched for centuries to a diary entry’s end where I wrote, You make me happy oh when skies are gray. You make me happy oh when skies are gray, and gray, and gray. Well the clock’s heart it hangs inside its open chest with its hands stretched towards the calendar hanging itself but I will not weep for those dying days. For all the ones who've left there's a few that stayed. And they found me here and pulled me from the grass where I was laid.
"You asked me if I believe in magic, and I said yes, and that's how. You just step out, start pulling your life out of the air. You make friends, you find work you reallly like doing, you find places. You find diners and Laundromats. You find beaches. You find a junk car and drive it for a month, then leave it beside the road. You find someone to fall in love with you. You make it all up as you go. Or, you know, maybe it makes you up."
| meaning is sometimes hard to spot it begins with the flickering of cigarettes in the darkness of a dorm room somewhere in this suffocated mid-west but if this is real then I was mistaken and if there is truth then why can't we find it? but beauty comes to those who have been waiting for something that is bigger than themselves but this is the sound of the hopeless kids as they scream from the basements of the houses of their parents and this is the sound of the hopeless ones as they stare down at their books and realize that they’ve been lied to but if this is real then I was mistaken and if the vision’s gone then I was not aware consistency like that which I have craved is that people change so unexpectedly and realization finds you in a drunken airport some planes depart and others never arrived so with this in mind I don't plan on waiting if it’s time to leave and break these old ties without something more the vision is fading but until it’s gone the pain will make us try it’ll make us try but this is the hope I’ve been searching for as the wings catch the sunlight of the cold Nebraska skyline and this is the dream I am dying in as I wait to find tomorrow be content without perfection but if this is real then I was mistaken and if the vision’s gone then I was not aware |