Going out in cars to find
Whatever drives the artists mad
Leaving all we had and
Leaving all we had to give behind
Leaving brushstrokes on a canvas
With a paint that never dries
Hoping only that the better parts
Will flash before our eyes before we're
Off again
On a whim
Going out in cars at night
To have a highway to ourselves
No we haven't got a map
We're only going somewhere else
And all the things we've yet to see
Become the things we left behind
It's worth it just to see that blur
We'd rather travel than arrive
No we haven't got a map
And no we haven't got a plan
But we're content to have our friends
and some vague picture of the end
That may well tear us all to shreds
And though we really were content
We found we felt far more than that
Going out in cars with paint, if
there's no way we'll take the one that we invent
we never seemed that far away
From what was falling into place
Or from a fireplace and beds
where we could rest our noisy heads before we're
Off again
On a whim
Leaving all we had
The goodbyes were sad
Had we been standing still instead
Had we been hiding from the rain
Had we been lying in
What passes for a home when we're afraid
Could we have been content?
With having years and years instead
And trying not to hear the
restless, reckless parts inside our heads
Perhaps not yet
Imagine when the noise is dim
We open up the curtains just to
find an unexpected and unwelcome
lack of anything behind them.
Perhaps not yet
But I imagine on my deathbed
I'd confess:
I never felt the change
And so we're
Off again
On a whim
And though it's only my best guess
I think what drove them mad was this:
How do you find yourself if you're always somewhere else?
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
I heard a story once
About a man who lost his sight
For three days
He watched the lights go out
Of everything he knew
You should've seen the look on his face
When they returned to chase away
The things that he'd imagined in their place
None of it was true
None of it was true
He watched the lights go out
Of everything he knew
But none of it was true
I think the reason that it stuck with me
Is that I envied him in a way
I wonder if he's ever had to sleep
With all the lights on just in case
Would he still be afraid?
Would he still be afraid?
And am I anything like him?
Staying up late, mind racing
Hands stained with paint
Hoping the colours don't fade
You should've seen the look on his face
You should've seen the look on his face
He watched the lights go out
Of everything he knew
But none of it was true
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
We Haven't Found an Anchor Yet (But This'll Have to Do)
...
Tear the clock off the wall
We'll say we invented
A world where time passes
The way it was meant to
We'll build it out of bottlecaps
Or cadences of songs
That were sung a long long time ago
And will be sung long after
We're all gone
It was good to sing along
Or build it out of unmade beds
Or scratches on the walls
Or the things we said before
We went to bed and
All the parts we can't recall
I know I loved it all
Our hearts are still red
And the walls are still white
And we haven't got a map
But we've got all night
The sky may turn black
But the ocean's still blue
We haven't found an anchor yet
But this'll have to do
Tear the clock off the wall
We'll say we invented
A world where time passes
The way it was meant to
Throw yourself to the wind
Let it take us wherever it will
We've hours and pages
and glasses to fill
Art for Aeroplanes
It was something, it had to be
something about the sound
The wind chimes made
That reminded me
Below flickering shapes
of the last silhouettes of the leaves
in trees in autumn yards we
made our way through
The melody was
Aimless and the
Cadence never came
So much different than the
Saddest thing
A symphony could play
Like the sounds from our childhood
Resolved into a wordless hum
We understood
It was something, perhaps
A particular way that the light
Hit the street
That reminded me
Connecting the dots
On those stumbling walks between
Softer parts of mid December's
Muddy sting
It had rained and made those
multi coloured
columns on the ground
We went walking down the middle
there was
No one else around
I think I felt the way we did
In all our favorite hiding spots
When we were kids
It was gone in an instant
It was gone in an instant
And so were we
We had places to be
Afternoon's grid
Of jet trails overhead
Looked nothing like the lines we would've left
Had we spilled paint behind us
Everywhere we threw ourselves
When that high sun had set
Not sure what we're looking for
If anything at all
Something that we've seen before?
Something that we lost?
Or maybe this is it, for all we know
The light was bright, we turned away
And the bits of it that stayed
Looked something like the softly focused
Half remembered shape of things
From sun baked roads so long ago
On rainy days
Not sure what we're looking for
If anything at all
Something that we've seen before?
Something that we lost?
Maybe this is it, all I know is
If our faces showed a little of the lights inside our heads
We put on quite a show
And so
One more for the road
One Thousand Little Rooms
We've left our shoes
By the doors of a thousand places
Much like this one
Before
I've seen those colours
In the eyes of a thousand faces
Much like yours
And yours and yours and yours
Marilee is pounding the keys of
A piano all covered in ash
Below bottles in a row on a windowsill
With paint stains on the glass
Paint stains on the glass
I think we're made up of
Sparsely scattered instances
In places
In time
Like shapes of cities at night
Are but a million filaments
Of incandescent light
Marilee still pounding the keys of
A piano all covered in ash
Below bottles in a row on a windowsill
With paint stains on the glass
And our conversation fell
And our conversation rose
And our conversation fell
And our conversation rose
And all the things we had to say
Overlapped the notes to make a space
Your restless island souls could call a coast
One thousand little rooms
Where we light our little fires at night
Are like the places in our lives and inside our minds
The way the shape of the city is a million lights
From little rooms where we light our little fires at night
Are like the places in our lives and inside our minds
The way the shape of the city is a million lights
From little rooms where we light our little fires at night
Are like the places in our lives and inside our minds
The way the shape of the city is a million lights
The little rooms where we light our little fires
Are what we call our home tonight
Are what we call our home tonight
Are what we call our home tonight
Are what we call our home tonight
Farewell Fires & Flying Machines
That night you brought a camera
That night your hands shook, but
It was the closest that you ever came, I'd say
To how it really looked
That night you wore a sweater
You left it lying on the floor
The folds I traced with tired eyes like some old map with lines that led to
Places we'd forgotten things before
So throw your paint on every wall
Illustrate the cadences of our favorite songs
Give them a shape
They're prone to fade away
We still had lights behind our eyelids
Long after we'd all gone to bed
I'd love to save them but I've never been a painter
And so I write it down instead
And I'll fill one thousand pages
I'll write whatever comes to mind
And on the day I find myself one thousand miles away
Perhaps a part of me will still exist behind
So throw your paint on every wall
Illustrate the cadences of our favorite songs
While I'm describing fleeting dreams
Of faces, streets, and wine
We'll make them real
Oh, but what colour was that fire anyways, my dear?
When I leave I'm going very far away
When I leave I'm going very far away
When I leave I'm going very far away
I don't want to see your colours fade
When I leave I'm going very far away
I don't want to see your colours fade
I don't want to see you
Looking like those grey remains
Of last night's farewell fires
Waiting to be swept away
So throw your paint on every wall
Illustrate the cadence of our favorite song
Each and every brightly coloured, tired eye
We'll leave a mark at all
The highest spots we rise
There are things which have no shape
While We're All Still Here
We hid away in places
No one else would ever think to look
Imagined that the things we said
Were inked and set in pages
Of some great book
Well in a way they were
I think
Although we'll never know
Quite how the whole thing ends
When the sun begins to rise
When all our lines are said
When, someday this moment's passed us by
The way we seem to pass our shadows
As we're passed by cars at night
Will we see pages?
Looking like familiar flags
Will we see them through Old Eyes?
It was hand on heart
It was heart on sleeve
Impossible to miss, but
It was hard to believe
It was staring at the sun
It was stumbling blind
It was a place
It was a time
It was hard to define
It was the sum of all our footprints
And the paint we may have spilled
It was a little like a blueprint
Of a thing we'd planned to build
It was the times we had to whisper
And the things we had to shout
It was the candle that we lit
To see the last one burning out
It was hazy
It was aimless
It was staying the course
It was a weighty affair
With direction and force
It was a world that we built
Out of bits of thin air
It was bent light in a parting glass we've yet to share
We're all still here
There will come a day
When the sky goes dark with
Aeroplanes, angels, and black clouds
But we're still here
For now
There will come a day
When the sky goes dark with
Aeroplanes, angels, and black clouds
But we're still here
For now
...
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC