Lifted Or The Story Is In The Soil Keep Your Ear To The Ground
1. "Big Picture" – 8:42
2. "Method Acting" – 3:42
3. "False Advertising" – 5:52
4. "You Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will." – 3:25
5. "Lover I Don't Have to Love" – 4:00
6. "Bowl of Oranges" – 4:48
7. "Don't Know When But a Day Is Gonna Come" – 6:31
8. "Nothing Gets Crossed Out" – 4:34
9. "Make War" – 6:16
10. "Waste of Paint" – 6:29
11. "From a Balance Beam" – 3:40
12. "Laura Laurent" – 4:56
13. "Let's Not Shit Ourselves (To Love and to Be Loved)" – 10:07
Method Acting
There is no beginning to the story. A bookshelf sinks into the sand
and a language learned and forgot, in turn, is studied once again.
It's a shocking bit of footage viewed from a shitty TV screen.
You can squint through snowy static to make out the meaning.
Just keep on stretching the antennae, hoping that it will come clear.
We need some reception, a higher message, just tell us what to fear.
Because I don't know what tomorrow brings. It is alive with such possibilities.
All I know is I feel better when I sing. Burdens are lifted from me, that is my voice rising!
So Michael, please keep the tape rolling. Boys keep strumming those guitars.
We need a record of our failures. We must document out love.
I have sat too long in my silence. I have grown too old in my pain.
To shed this skin, be born again, it starts with an ending.
So thank you friends for the time we shared. My love stays with you like sunlight and air.
Oh how I truly wish I could keep hanging around here but my joy is covering me.
Soon, I will disappear.
It's not a movie, no private screening. This method acting, well, I call that living.
It's like a fountain, a door has been opened. We have a problem with no solution
but to love and to be loved.
So, I've made peace with the falling leaves. I see their same fate in my own body.
But I won't be afraid when I am awoken from this dream and returned to that
which gave birth to me. And the story goes on and on and on and on...
False Advertising
On a string...
On a string...
On a string, I was held.
The way I move, can you tell?
My actions are orchestrated from above.
So I swing and I sway.
Wave my hand, kick my leg,
And it is always right with the music.
"Until all that swaying starts to make you sick..."
For a song I was bought,
Now I lie when I talk
With a careful eye on the cue card.
Onto a stage I was pushed,
With my sorrow well rehearsed.
So give me all your pity and your money, now (all of it)
"We used to think that sound was something pure..."
If I could act like
This was my real life,
And not some cage where I've been placed,
Well then, I could tell you
The truth like I used to
And not be afraid of sounding fake.
Now all anyone's listening for are the mistakes!
(Ah, I'm sorry!)
(Oh, it's okay, it's okay)
1, 2, 3,
1, 2, 3!
In a house by myself,
I hear the ice start to melt,
And I'll watch rooftops weep for the sunlight.
And I know what must change,
Fuck my face. Fuck my name,
They are brief and false advertisements...
...For a soul I don't have.
Something true I have lacked
And spent my whole life trying to make up for.
But I found in a song
And in the people I love,
They will lift me up out of darkness.
And now my door, it stands open,
I'm inviting everyone in.
We're gonna laugh,
We're gonna drink until the morning comes.
That's what we're gonna to do...
Come on!! Come on!!
You Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will
You say that I treat you like a book on a shelf. I don't take you out that often
'cause I know that I've completed you and that's why you are here.
That is the reason why you stay here. How awful that must feel.
You said you would be my dream. I could have you every night and if, by morning,
I had forgotten you, well, no big deal, it would be all right because
you are the reoccurring kind. You are the reoccurring kind. You never really leave my mind.
Are you the love of my lifetime? Because there have been times I have had my doubts.
We were just kids when I first kissed you in the attic of my parents house,
and I wish we were there now. It took so long to figure out what this book has been about.
Now I write when I'm away letters that you never read. You said go to explore those other women,
the geography of their bodies but there is just one map you'll need. You are a boomerang.
You'll see. You will return to me.
You will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will.
You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will.
Because if you don't, then this book is all lies. If you don't, then my plans would all be ruined.
If you don't, I'll start drinking like the way I drank before.
And I just wont have a future anymore.
Lover I Don't Have To Love
I picked you out of a crowd and talked to you.
I said, "i like your shoes."
You said, "thanks can i follow you?"
So it's up the stairs and out of view-
No prying eyes
I poured some wine
I asked your name, you asked the time...
Now it's two o'clock-
The club is closed and we're up the block
Your hands on me; pressing hard against your jeans
Your tongue in my mouth, trying to keep the words from coming out
You didn't care to know who else may have been you before
I want a lover i don't have to love.
I want a girl who's too sad to give a fuck.
Where is the kid with the chemicals?
I thought he said to meet him here, but i'm not sure
I got the money if you've got the time
You said, "it feels good."
I said, "i'll give it a try."
Then my mind went dark
We both forgot where your car was parked
Let's just take the train
I'll meet up with the band in the morning
Bad actors with bad habits
Some sad singers they just play tragic
And the phone's ringing and the van's leaving
Let's just keep touching; let's just keep, keep singing...
I want a lover i don't have to love
I want a boy who's so drunk he doesn't talk
Where is the kid with the chemicals
I got a hunger and i can't seem to get full
I need some meaning i can memorize
The kind i have always seem to slip my mind
But you..
But you...
You write such pretty words
But life's no storybook
Love's an excuse to get hurt
And to hurt
Do you like to hurt?
I do, i do
Then hurt me..
Then hurt me...
Then hurt me...
Bowl Of Oranges
The rain, it started tapping on the window near my bed. There was a loophole in
my dreaming, so I got out of it. And to my surprise my eyes were wide and
already open. Just my nightstand and my dresser where those nightmares had just
been. So I dressed myself and left then, out into the gray streets. But
everything seemed different and completely new to me. The sky, the trees,
houses, buildings, even my own body. And each person I encountered, I couldn't
wait to meet. I came up a doctor who appeared in quite poor health. I said "(I
am terribly sorry but) there is nothing I can do for you (that) you can't do
for yourself." He said "Oh yes you can. Just hold my hand. I think that would
help." So I sat with him a while and then I asked him how he felt. He said, "I
think I'm cured. No, in fact, I'm sure of it. Thank you Stranger, for your
therapeutic smile."
So that is how I learned the lesson that everyone is alone. And your eyes must
do some raining if you are ever going to grow. But when crying don't help and
you can't compose yourself. It is best to compose a poem, an honest verse of longing or simple song of hope. That is why I'm singing... Baby don't worry cause now I
got your back. And every time you feel like crying, I'm gonna try and make you laugh. And if I can't, if it just hurts too bad, then we will wait for it to pass and I will keep you company through those days so long and black. And we'll just keep working on the problem we know we'll never solve of Love's uneven remainder, our lives are fractions of a whole. But if the world could remain in a frame like a painting on a wall. Then I think we would see the beauty. Then we would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges, like a story told by the fault lines and the soil.
Don't Know When But A Day Is Gonna Come
Is it true what I heard about the Son of God?
Did he come to save? Did he come at all?
And if I dried his feet,
with my dirty hair,
would he make me clean again?
They say they don't know when but a day is gonna come,
when there won't be a moon and there won't be a sun.
It will just go black, It'll all go back, to the way it was before.
I knew a lovely girl, with such pretty pride, and every man wanted her, yeah and so did I.
So did I.
But she up and died in a fit of vanity.
Now men with purple hearts, carry silver guns.
And they will kill a man for what his father has done.
But what my father did, you know it don't mean shit. I'm not him.
So you think I need some discipline, well, I had my share.
I have been sent to my room. I've been sat in a chair.
And I held my tongue. I didn't plug my ears.
No, I got a good talking to.
And now I don't know why,
but I still try to smile when they talk at me like I'm just a child.
Well, I'm not a child.
No, I am much younger than that.
And now I have read some books and have grown quite brave.
If only I could just speak up I think I would say that there is no truth.
There is only you and what you make the truth.
So I will just sing my song and I'll pass a hat.
Then I'll leave your town and never look back.
No, I don't look back because the road is clear and laid out ahead of me.
I'll get home and meet my friends at our favorite bar.
We'll get some lighter heads for our heavy hearts.
And we will share a drink.
Yeah we will share our fears and they will know how I love them.
They will know how I love.
They will know how I love them.
I am nothing without their love
I don't know when but a day is gonna come
when there won't be a moon and there won't be a sun.
It will all go black.
It will all go back to the way it is supposed to be.
Is it true what I heard about the Son of God?
Did he die for us? Did he die at all?
And if I sold my soul for a bag of gold,
which one of us would be the foolish one?
Which one of us would be the fool?
Which one of us would be the foolish one?
Which one of us would be the fool?
Could you please start explaining?
You know, I need some understanding.
Could you please start explaining?
You know, I need some understanding.
Could you please start explaining?
You know, I need some understanding.
I could do good with some explaining.
You know. I want to understand.
Nothing Gets Crossed Out
Well, the future's got me worried, such awful thoughts
My head's a carousel of pictures
The spinning never stops
I just want someone to walk in front
And I'll follow the leader
Like when I fell under the weight of a schoolboy crush
Started carrying her books and doing lots of drugs
I almost forgot who I was, but came to my senses
Now I'm trying to be assertive, I'm making plans, want to rise to the occasion, yeah, meet all their demands
But all I do is just lay in bed and hide under the covers
Yeah, I know I should be brave
But I'm just too afraid of all this change
And it's hard to focus through all this doubt
I keep making this "To Do" list but nothing gets crossed out
Working on the record seems pointless now
When the world ends, who's gonna hear it?
Well I'm trying to take some comfort in written words
Yeah, Tim I heard your album and it's better than good
When you get off tour I think we should hang and black out together
'Cause I've been feeling sentimental for days gone by
All those summers singing, drinking, laughing, wasting our time
Remember all those songs and the way we smiled, in those basements made of music
But now I've got to crawl
To get anywhere at all
I'm not as strong as I thought
So when I'm lost in a crowd
I hope that you'll pick me out
Oh, how I, I long to be found
The grass grew high, I laid down
Now I, wait for a hand to lift me up, help me stand
I've been laying so low
Don't wanna lay here no more
Don't wanna lay here no more
Don't wanna lay here no more
Don't wanna lay here no more
No more...more...
But if everything that happens is supposed to be
And it's all predetermined, can't change your destiny
I guess I'll just keep moving, someday, maybe, I'll get to where I'm going
Waste Of Paint
I have a friend, he is made mostly of pain. He wakes up, drives to work, and then straight back home again. He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper. I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a record cover. And I tried to tell him he had a sense of color and composition so magnificent. And he said "Thank you, please but your flattery is truly not becoming me. Your eyes are poor. You are blind. You see, no beauty could have come from me. I am a waste of breath, of space, of time." I knew a woman, she was dignified and true. Her love for her man was one of her many virtues. Until one day, she found out that he had lied and she decided the rest of her life, from that point on would be a lie.
But she was grateful for everything that had happened. And she was anxious for all that would come next. But then she wept. What did you expect? In that big, old house with the cars she kept. "Oh!" and "such is life," she often said. With one day leading her to the next, you get a little closer to your death, which was fine with her. She never got upset and with all the days she may have left, she would never clean another mess or fold his shirts or look her best. She was free to waste away alone. Last night, my brother he got drunk and drove. And this cop pulled him off to the side of the road.
And he said, "Officer! Officer! You got the wrong man. No, no, I'm a student of medicine, the son of a banker, you don't understand!" The cop said, "No one got hurt, you should be thankful. And you carelessness, it is something awful. And no, I can't just let you go. And though your father's name is known, your decisions now are yours alone. You are nothing but a stepping stone on a path to debt, to loss, to shame." The last few months I have been living with this couple. Yeah, you know, the kind that buy everything in doubles. They fit together, like a puzzle. I love their love and I am thankful that someone actually receives the prize that was promised by all those fairy tales that drugged us. And they still do me.
I'm sick, lonely, no laurel tree, just green envy. Will my number come up eventually? Like Love is some kind of lottery, where you scratch and see what is underneath. It's "Sorry", just one cherry, "Play Again." Get lucky. So I have been hanging out down by the train's depot. No, I don't ride. I just sit and watch the people there. They remind me of wind up cars in motion. The way they spin and turn and jockey for positions. And I want to scream out that it is all nonsense. And that their lives are one track, and can't they see how it is all pointless? But then, my knees give under me. My head feels weak and suddenly it is clear to see it is not them but me, who has lost my self-identity.
As I hide behind these books I read, while scribbling my poetry, like art could save a wretch like me, with some ideal ideology that no one can hope to achieve. And I am never real; it is just a sketch in me. And everything I made is trite and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time. So now I park my car down by the cathedral, where the floodlights point up at the steeples. Choir practice was filling up with people. I hear the sound escaping as an echo. Sloping off the ceiling at an angle. When the voices blend they sound like angels. I hope theres some room still in the middle. But when I lift my voice up now to reach them. The range is too high, way up in heaven. So I hold my tongue, forget the song, tie my shoe and start walking off. And try to just keep moving on, with my broken heart and my absent God and I have no faith but it is all I want, to be loved and believe in my soul.
From A Balance Beam
There is a man holding a megaphone, he must have been the voice of God
The bystanders claimed they saw angels flying up and down the block
Well, they must have been attached to wires
I'd seen one laying in the lawn with a broken arm, so I called 911
Well that's one less founded opinion
One more cause for a dispute
So the street filled, like a basin, up with cameras and their crews
And they washed away the rumors leaving just the concrete truth
It was a spectacle
No, I, I mean a miracle
So then I fell like that girl from a balance beam
A gymnasium of eyes all were holding on to me
I lifted one foot to cross the other and I felt myself slipping
It was a small mistake
Sometimes that is all it takes
Now I'm staring at my wrist, hoping that the time is right
When the planets will align
There will be no planets to align
Just the carcass of the sun
And little painted marbles spinning senseless through an endless black sky
It was in a foreign hotel's bathtub I baptized myself in change
And one by one I drowned all of the people I had been
I emerged to find the parallels were fewer
I was cleansed
I looked in the mirror
And someone new was there
But, I was as helpless as a chess piece when I was lifted up by someone's hand
And delivered from the corner my enemies had got me in
But in all of my salvation I still felt imprisoned inside that holding cell that is myself
So I wait for the day when I'll hear the key as it turns in the lock
And the guard will say to me, "Oh my patient prisoner you waited for this day and finally, you are free! You are free! You are freezing."
Now I'm staring at the sun, waiting for it to explode
Because a day is gonna come, don't know when but it will come
And we'll finally know the way out of here
And I'll throw away this wrinkled map
And my chart of stars and compass, cracked
And I'll climb that tree all wet with sap to avoid the hungry beasts below I'll cut out my lover's tongue and sing of a graveyard gray and a garden green
And we won't have to worry no more
No we won't have to wonder again
About how this song or story ends
About how this song and story will end
Laura Laurent
Laura, are you still living there on your state of sorrow? You used to leave it occasionally. Now, you don't even bother to ride that commuter train west to Chicago, to stroll through the greenery, in the park, past the statues. How their eyes seemed to follow you like a hated addiction. Their beauty carved out of absolutes that you could never claim, or even envision. Laura you were the saddest song in the shape of a woman. I thought you were beautiful, but I wept with your movements. I hope you are laughing now from that place of the carpet where we shared a sleeping bag, in your sisters apartment.
Oh how she would worry so, you know, I was just a stranger. But she asked me to care for you. That is what she did and I went and betrayed her. But do you know we are in high demand, Laura, us people who suffer? Because we don't take to arguing and we are quick to surrender. Well, I think I would call tonight if I still had your number. Your thoughts have always laid close to mine. We were both skipping supper. But you should never be embarrassed by your trouble with living. Because it is the ones with the sorest throats, Laura, who have done the most singing. Everybody! La La La La La La La La La Lah...
Let's Not Shit Ourselves (To Love And Be Loved)
Here we go. Can I get a goddamn timpany roll to start this goddamn song? Tonight it is a goddamn song, for all you goddamn people:
Well, the animals laugh from the dark of the wilderness. A baby cries hard in an apartment complex, as I pass in a car buried under the influence. The city's driving me out of my mind. I’ve seen a child, he's caught in the sad trap of gravity. He falls from the lowest branch of the apple tree and lands in the grass and weeps for his dignity. Next time he will not aim so high. Yeah, next time, neither will I. Now, a mother takes loans out, sends her kids off to colleges. Her family’s reduced to names on a shopping list. While, a coroner kneels beneath a great, wooden crucifix. He knows there's worse things than being alone. I’ve learned to retreat at the first sign of danger. I mean, why wait around, if it's just to surrender? An ambition, I’ve found, can lead only to failure. I do not read the reviews. No, I am not singing for you.
Well, I stood dropping a coin into the pit of a well. And I would throw my whole billfold if I thought it would help. With all these wishes I make, I should buy something real, at least a telephone call home. Well, My teachers, they built this retaining wall memory, all those multiple choices I answered so quickly. And got my grades back and forgot just as easily, but at least I got an A. And so I don't have them to blame. Well, I should stop pointing fingers; reserve my judgment of all those public action figures, the cowboy presidents. So loud behind the bullhorn so proud they can't admit when they've made a mistake. While poison ink spews from a speechwriter's pen, he knows he don't have to say it, so it, it don't bother him. "Honesty" "Accuracy" is just "Popular Opinion." And the approval rating is high, and so someone's gonna die. Well, ABC, NBC, CBS: Bullshit. They give us fact or fiction? I guess an even split. And each new act of war is tonight's entertainment. We're still the pawns in their game. As they take eye for an eye until no one can see, we must stumble blindly forward, repeating history. Well, I guess we all fit into your slogan on that fast food marquee: Red blooded, White skinned oh and the Blues. Oh and the Blues! I got the Blues! That's me! That's me!
Well, I awoke in relief. My sheets and tubes were all tangled weak from whiskey and pills, in a Chicago hospital. And my father was there, in a chair by the window, staring so far away. I tried talking, just whispered, "...so sorry...so selfish.." He stopped me and said, "Child I love you regardless and there is nothing you could do that would ever change this. I'm not angry. It happens. But you just can't do it again." And so now I try to keep up, I’ve been exchanging my currency. While a million objects pass through my periphery. Now I’m rubbing my eyes cause they’re starting to bother me. I’ve been staring too long at the screen. But where was it when I first heard that sweet sound of humility? It came to my ears in the goddamn loveliest melody. How grateful I was then to be part of the mystery, to love and to be loved. Let's just hope that is enough.
2. "Method Acting" – 3:42
3. "False Advertising" – 5:52
4. "You Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will." – 3:25
5. "Lover I Don't Have to Love" – 4:00
6. "Bowl of Oranges" – 4:48
7. "Don't Know When But a Day Is Gonna Come" – 6:31
8. "Nothing Gets Crossed Out" – 4:34
9. "Make War" – 6:16
10. "Waste of Paint" – 6:29
11. "From a Balance Beam" – 3:40
12. "Laura Laurent" – 4:56
13. "Let's Not Shit Ourselves (To Love and to Be Loved)" – 10:07
Method Acting
There is no beginning to the story. A bookshelf sinks into the sand
and a language learned and forgot, in turn, is studied once again.
It's a shocking bit of footage viewed from a shitty TV screen.
You can squint through snowy static to make out the meaning.
Just keep on stretching the antennae, hoping that it will come clear.
We need some reception, a higher message, just tell us what to fear.
Because I don't know what tomorrow brings. It is alive with such possibilities.
All I know is I feel better when I sing. Burdens are lifted from me, that is my voice rising!
So Michael, please keep the tape rolling. Boys keep strumming those guitars.
We need a record of our failures. We must document out love.
I have sat too long in my silence. I have grown too old in my pain.
To shed this skin, be born again, it starts with an ending.
So thank you friends for the time we shared. My love stays with you like sunlight and air.
Oh how I truly wish I could keep hanging around here but my joy is covering me.
Soon, I will disappear.
It's not a movie, no private screening. This method acting, well, I call that living.
It's like a fountain, a door has been opened. We have a problem with no solution
but to love and to be loved.
So, I've made peace with the falling leaves. I see their same fate in my own body.
But I won't be afraid when I am awoken from this dream and returned to that
which gave birth to me. And the story goes on and on and on and on...
False Advertising
On a string...
On a string...
On a string, I was held.
The way I move, can you tell?
My actions are orchestrated from above.
So I swing and I sway.
Wave my hand, kick my leg,
And it is always right with the music.
"Until all that swaying starts to make you sick..."
For a song I was bought,
Now I lie when I talk
With a careful eye on the cue card.
Onto a stage I was pushed,
With my sorrow well rehearsed.
So give me all your pity and your money, now (all of it)
"We used to think that sound was something pure..."
If I could act like
This was my real life,
And not some cage where I've been placed,
Well then, I could tell you
The truth like I used to
And not be afraid of sounding fake.
Now all anyone's listening for are the mistakes!
(Ah, I'm sorry!)
(Oh, it's okay, it's okay)
1, 2, 3,
1, 2, 3!
In a house by myself,
I hear the ice start to melt,
And I'll watch rooftops weep for the sunlight.
And I know what must change,
Fuck my face. Fuck my name,
They are brief and false advertisements...
...For a soul I don't have.
Something true I have lacked
And spent my whole life trying to make up for.
But I found in a song
And in the people I love,
They will lift me up out of darkness.
And now my door, it stands open,
I'm inviting everyone in.
We're gonna laugh,
We're gonna drink until the morning comes.
That's what we're gonna to do...
Come on!! Come on!!
You Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will
You say that I treat you like a book on a shelf. I don't take you out that often
'cause I know that I've completed you and that's why you are here.
That is the reason why you stay here. How awful that must feel.
You said you would be my dream. I could have you every night and if, by morning,
I had forgotten you, well, no big deal, it would be all right because
you are the reoccurring kind. You are the reoccurring kind. You never really leave my mind.
Are you the love of my lifetime? Because there have been times I have had my doubts.
We were just kids when I first kissed you in the attic of my parents house,
and I wish we were there now. It took so long to figure out what this book has been about.
Now I write when I'm away letters that you never read. You said go to explore those other women,
the geography of their bodies but there is just one map you'll need. You are a boomerang.
You'll see. You will return to me.
You will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will.
You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will.
Because if you don't, then this book is all lies. If you don't, then my plans would all be ruined.
If you don't, I'll start drinking like the way I drank before.
And I just wont have a future anymore.
Lover I Don't Have To Love
I picked you out of a crowd and talked to you.
I said, "i like your shoes."
You said, "thanks can i follow you?"
So it's up the stairs and out of view-
No prying eyes
I poured some wine
I asked your name, you asked the time...
Now it's two o'clock-
The club is closed and we're up the block
Your hands on me; pressing hard against your jeans
Your tongue in my mouth, trying to keep the words from coming out
You didn't care to know who else may have been you before
I want a lover i don't have to love.
I want a girl who's too sad to give a fuck.
Where is the kid with the chemicals?
I thought he said to meet him here, but i'm not sure
I got the money if you've got the time
You said, "it feels good."
I said, "i'll give it a try."
Then my mind went dark
We both forgot where your car was parked
Let's just take the train
I'll meet up with the band in the morning
Bad actors with bad habits
Some sad singers they just play tragic
And the phone's ringing and the van's leaving
Let's just keep touching; let's just keep, keep singing...
I want a lover i don't have to love
I want a boy who's so drunk he doesn't talk
Where is the kid with the chemicals
I got a hunger and i can't seem to get full
I need some meaning i can memorize
The kind i have always seem to slip my mind
But you..
But you...
You write such pretty words
But life's no storybook
Love's an excuse to get hurt
And to hurt
Do you like to hurt?
I do, i do
Then hurt me..
Then hurt me...
Then hurt me...
Bowl Of Oranges
The rain, it started tapping on the window near my bed. There was a loophole in
my dreaming, so I got out of it. And to my surprise my eyes were wide and
already open. Just my nightstand and my dresser where those nightmares had just
been. So I dressed myself and left then, out into the gray streets. But
everything seemed different and completely new to me. The sky, the trees,
houses, buildings, even my own body. And each person I encountered, I couldn't
wait to meet. I came up a doctor who appeared in quite poor health. I said "(I
am terribly sorry but) there is nothing I can do for you (that) you can't do
for yourself." He said "Oh yes you can. Just hold my hand. I think that would
help." So I sat with him a while and then I asked him how he felt. He said, "I
think I'm cured. No, in fact, I'm sure of it. Thank you Stranger, for your
therapeutic smile."
So that is how I learned the lesson that everyone is alone. And your eyes must
do some raining if you are ever going to grow. But when crying don't help and
you can't compose yourself. It is best to compose a poem, an honest verse of longing or simple song of hope. That is why I'm singing... Baby don't worry cause now I
got your back. And every time you feel like crying, I'm gonna try and make you laugh. And if I can't, if it just hurts too bad, then we will wait for it to pass and I will keep you company through those days so long and black. And we'll just keep working on the problem we know we'll never solve of Love's uneven remainder, our lives are fractions of a whole. But if the world could remain in a frame like a painting on a wall. Then I think we would see the beauty. Then we would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges, like a story told by the fault lines and the soil.
Don't Know When But A Day Is Gonna Come
Is it true what I heard about the Son of God?
Did he come to save? Did he come at all?
And if I dried his feet,
with my dirty hair,
would he make me clean again?
They say they don't know when but a day is gonna come,
when there won't be a moon and there won't be a sun.
It will just go black, It'll all go back, to the way it was before.
I knew a lovely girl, with such pretty pride, and every man wanted her, yeah and so did I.
So did I.
But she up and died in a fit of vanity.
Now men with purple hearts, carry silver guns.
And they will kill a man for what his father has done.
But what my father did, you know it don't mean shit. I'm not him.
So you think I need some discipline, well, I had my share.
I have been sent to my room. I've been sat in a chair.
And I held my tongue. I didn't plug my ears.
No, I got a good talking to.
And now I don't know why,
but I still try to smile when they talk at me like I'm just a child.
Well, I'm not a child.
No, I am much younger than that.
And now I have read some books and have grown quite brave.
If only I could just speak up I think I would say that there is no truth.
There is only you and what you make the truth.
So I will just sing my song and I'll pass a hat.
Then I'll leave your town and never look back.
No, I don't look back because the road is clear and laid out ahead of me.
I'll get home and meet my friends at our favorite bar.
We'll get some lighter heads for our heavy hearts.
And we will share a drink.
Yeah we will share our fears and they will know how I love them.
They will know how I love.
They will know how I love them.
I am nothing without their love
I don't know when but a day is gonna come
when there won't be a moon and there won't be a sun.
It will all go black.
It will all go back to the way it is supposed to be.
Is it true what I heard about the Son of God?
Did he die for us? Did he die at all?
And if I sold my soul for a bag of gold,
which one of us would be the foolish one?
Which one of us would be the fool?
Which one of us would be the foolish one?
Which one of us would be the fool?
Could you please start explaining?
You know, I need some understanding.
Could you please start explaining?
You know, I need some understanding.
Could you please start explaining?
You know, I need some understanding.
I could do good with some explaining.
You know. I want to understand.
Nothing Gets Crossed Out
Well, the future's got me worried, such awful thoughts
My head's a carousel of pictures
The spinning never stops
I just want someone to walk in front
And I'll follow the leader
Like when I fell under the weight of a schoolboy crush
Started carrying her books and doing lots of drugs
I almost forgot who I was, but came to my senses
Now I'm trying to be assertive, I'm making plans, want to rise to the occasion, yeah, meet all their demands
But all I do is just lay in bed and hide under the covers
Yeah, I know I should be brave
But I'm just too afraid of all this change
And it's hard to focus through all this doubt
I keep making this "To Do" list but nothing gets crossed out
Working on the record seems pointless now
When the world ends, who's gonna hear it?
Well I'm trying to take some comfort in written words
Yeah, Tim I heard your album and it's better than good
When you get off tour I think we should hang and black out together
'Cause I've been feeling sentimental for days gone by
All those summers singing, drinking, laughing, wasting our time
Remember all those songs and the way we smiled, in those basements made of music
But now I've got to crawl
To get anywhere at all
I'm not as strong as I thought
So when I'm lost in a crowd
I hope that you'll pick me out
Oh, how I, I long to be found
The grass grew high, I laid down
Now I, wait for a hand to lift me up, help me stand
I've been laying so low
Don't wanna lay here no more
Don't wanna lay here no more
Don't wanna lay here no more
Don't wanna lay here no more
No more...more...
But if everything that happens is supposed to be
And it's all predetermined, can't change your destiny
I guess I'll just keep moving, someday, maybe, I'll get to where I'm going
Waste Of Paint
I have a friend, he is made mostly of pain. He wakes up, drives to work, and then straight back home again. He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper. I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a record cover. And I tried to tell him he had a sense of color and composition so magnificent. And he said "Thank you, please but your flattery is truly not becoming me. Your eyes are poor. You are blind. You see, no beauty could have come from me. I am a waste of breath, of space, of time." I knew a woman, she was dignified and true. Her love for her man was one of her many virtues. Until one day, she found out that he had lied and she decided the rest of her life, from that point on would be a lie.
But she was grateful for everything that had happened. And she was anxious for all that would come next. But then she wept. What did you expect? In that big, old house with the cars she kept. "Oh!" and "such is life," she often said. With one day leading her to the next, you get a little closer to your death, which was fine with her. She never got upset and with all the days she may have left, she would never clean another mess or fold his shirts or look her best. She was free to waste away alone. Last night, my brother he got drunk and drove. And this cop pulled him off to the side of the road.
And he said, "Officer! Officer! You got the wrong man. No, no, I'm a student of medicine, the son of a banker, you don't understand!" The cop said, "No one got hurt, you should be thankful. And you carelessness, it is something awful. And no, I can't just let you go. And though your father's name is known, your decisions now are yours alone. You are nothing but a stepping stone on a path to debt, to loss, to shame." The last few months I have been living with this couple. Yeah, you know, the kind that buy everything in doubles. They fit together, like a puzzle. I love their love and I am thankful that someone actually receives the prize that was promised by all those fairy tales that drugged us. And they still do me.
I'm sick, lonely, no laurel tree, just green envy. Will my number come up eventually? Like Love is some kind of lottery, where you scratch and see what is underneath. It's "Sorry", just one cherry, "Play Again." Get lucky. So I have been hanging out down by the train's depot. No, I don't ride. I just sit and watch the people there. They remind me of wind up cars in motion. The way they spin and turn and jockey for positions. And I want to scream out that it is all nonsense. And that their lives are one track, and can't they see how it is all pointless? But then, my knees give under me. My head feels weak and suddenly it is clear to see it is not them but me, who has lost my self-identity.
As I hide behind these books I read, while scribbling my poetry, like art could save a wretch like me, with some ideal ideology that no one can hope to achieve. And I am never real; it is just a sketch in me. And everything I made is trite and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time. So now I park my car down by the cathedral, where the floodlights point up at the steeples. Choir practice was filling up with people. I hear the sound escaping as an echo. Sloping off the ceiling at an angle. When the voices blend they sound like angels. I hope theres some room still in the middle. But when I lift my voice up now to reach them. The range is too high, way up in heaven. So I hold my tongue, forget the song, tie my shoe and start walking off. And try to just keep moving on, with my broken heart and my absent God and I have no faith but it is all I want, to be loved and believe in my soul.
From A Balance Beam
There is a man holding a megaphone, he must have been the voice of God
The bystanders claimed they saw angels flying up and down the block
Well, they must have been attached to wires
I'd seen one laying in the lawn with a broken arm, so I called 911
Well that's one less founded opinion
One more cause for a dispute
So the street filled, like a basin, up with cameras and their crews
And they washed away the rumors leaving just the concrete truth
It was a spectacle
No, I, I mean a miracle
So then I fell like that girl from a balance beam
A gymnasium of eyes all were holding on to me
I lifted one foot to cross the other and I felt myself slipping
It was a small mistake
Sometimes that is all it takes
Now I'm staring at my wrist, hoping that the time is right
When the planets will align
There will be no planets to align
Just the carcass of the sun
And little painted marbles spinning senseless through an endless black sky
It was in a foreign hotel's bathtub I baptized myself in change
And one by one I drowned all of the people I had been
I emerged to find the parallels were fewer
I was cleansed
I looked in the mirror
And someone new was there
But, I was as helpless as a chess piece when I was lifted up by someone's hand
And delivered from the corner my enemies had got me in
But in all of my salvation I still felt imprisoned inside that holding cell that is myself
So I wait for the day when I'll hear the key as it turns in the lock
And the guard will say to me, "Oh my patient prisoner you waited for this day and finally, you are free! You are free! You are freezing."
Now I'm staring at the sun, waiting for it to explode
Because a day is gonna come, don't know when but it will come
And we'll finally know the way out of here
And I'll throw away this wrinkled map
And my chart of stars and compass, cracked
And I'll climb that tree all wet with sap to avoid the hungry beasts below I'll cut out my lover's tongue and sing of a graveyard gray and a garden green
And we won't have to worry no more
No we won't have to wonder again
About how this song or story ends
About how this song and story will end
Laura Laurent
Laura, are you still living there on your state of sorrow? You used to leave it occasionally. Now, you don't even bother to ride that commuter train west to Chicago, to stroll through the greenery, in the park, past the statues. How their eyes seemed to follow you like a hated addiction. Their beauty carved out of absolutes that you could never claim, or even envision. Laura you were the saddest song in the shape of a woman. I thought you were beautiful, but I wept with your movements. I hope you are laughing now from that place of the carpet where we shared a sleeping bag, in your sisters apartment.
Oh how she would worry so, you know, I was just a stranger. But she asked me to care for you. That is what she did and I went and betrayed her. But do you know we are in high demand, Laura, us people who suffer? Because we don't take to arguing and we are quick to surrender. Well, I think I would call tonight if I still had your number. Your thoughts have always laid close to mine. We were both skipping supper. But you should never be embarrassed by your trouble with living. Because it is the ones with the sorest throats, Laura, who have done the most singing. Everybody! La La La La La La La La La Lah...
Let's Not Shit Ourselves (To Love And Be Loved)
Here we go. Can I get a goddamn timpany roll to start this goddamn song? Tonight it is a goddamn song, for all you goddamn people:
Well, the animals laugh from the dark of the wilderness. A baby cries hard in an apartment complex, as I pass in a car buried under the influence. The city's driving me out of my mind. I’ve seen a child, he's caught in the sad trap of gravity. He falls from the lowest branch of the apple tree and lands in the grass and weeps for his dignity. Next time he will not aim so high. Yeah, next time, neither will I. Now, a mother takes loans out, sends her kids off to colleges. Her family’s reduced to names on a shopping list. While, a coroner kneels beneath a great, wooden crucifix. He knows there's worse things than being alone. I’ve learned to retreat at the first sign of danger. I mean, why wait around, if it's just to surrender? An ambition, I’ve found, can lead only to failure. I do not read the reviews. No, I am not singing for you.
Well, I stood dropping a coin into the pit of a well. And I would throw my whole billfold if I thought it would help. With all these wishes I make, I should buy something real, at least a telephone call home. Well, My teachers, they built this retaining wall memory, all those multiple choices I answered so quickly. And got my grades back and forgot just as easily, but at least I got an A. And so I don't have them to blame. Well, I should stop pointing fingers; reserve my judgment of all those public action figures, the cowboy presidents. So loud behind the bullhorn so proud they can't admit when they've made a mistake. While poison ink spews from a speechwriter's pen, he knows he don't have to say it, so it, it don't bother him. "Honesty" "Accuracy" is just "Popular Opinion." And the approval rating is high, and so someone's gonna die. Well, ABC, NBC, CBS: Bullshit. They give us fact or fiction? I guess an even split. And each new act of war is tonight's entertainment. We're still the pawns in their game. As they take eye for an eye until no one can see, we must stumble blindly forward, repeating history. Well, I guess we all fit into your slogan on that fast food marquee: Red blooded, White skinned oh and the Blues. Oh and the Blues! I got the Blues! That's me! That's me!
Well, I awoke in relief. My sheets and tubes were all tangled weak from whiskey and pills, in a Chicago hospital. And my father was there, in a chair by the window, staring so far away. I tried talking, just whispered, "...so sorry...so selfish.." He stopped me and said, "Child I love you regardless and there is nothing you could do that would ever change this. I'm not angry. It happens. But you just can't do it again." And so now I try to keep up, I’ve been exchanging my currency. While a million objects pass through my periphery. Now I’m rubbing my eyes cause they’re starting to bother me. I’ve been staring too long at the screen. But where was it when I first heard that sweet sound of humility? It came to my ears in the goddamn loveliest melody. How grateful I was then to be part of the mystery, to love and to be loved. Let's just hope that is enough.