It was in the March of the winter I turned seventeen
that I bought those pills I thought I would need.
And I wrote a letter to my family.
Said, "It's not your fault and you've been good to me.
Just lately I've been feeling like I don't belong;
like the ground's not mine to walk upon."

And I've heard that music echo through the house
where my grandmother drank by herself.
And I sat watching a flower as it was withering.
I was embarrassed by its honesty.
So I'd prefer to be remembered as a smiling face,
not this ******* wreck that's taken its place.

So please forgive what I have done.
No, you can't stay mad at the setting sun,
because we all get tired, I mean eventually.
There is nothing left to do but sleep.

But spring came bearing sunlight;
those persuasive rays.
So I gave myself a few more days.
My salvation, it came quite suddenly
when Justin spoke very plainly.

He said, "Of course, its your decision,
but just so you know,
if you decide to leave, I soon will follow."

I wrote this for a baby that has yet to be born.
My brother's first child.
I hope that womb's not too warm,
because it's cold out here
and it'll be quite a shock
to breathe this air,
to discover loss.

So I'd like to make some changes
before you arrive,
so when your new eyes meet mine
they'll see no lies.
Just love.

I will be pure.
I know I will be pure.
Like snow.
Like gold.

Well morning came and it dressed the sky
in a lovely yellow gown.
Now the shops, they are all opening
in that narrow hallway of downtown;
filled with people who are shopping for
their lovers and their friends
so they won't ever be lonely again.

Well, a forrest bench becomes backyards,
like songs are born from sound.
And the apple fell and it taught us all
that we are chained here to the ground.
So here we go, but there ain't no escape.
Yeah, these streets are just dead ends
so I will never be happy again.

Well it seems you too see a painful blue
when you stare at the sky.
You could never understand
the motion of a hand waving you goodbye.
"Bye bye."
But as the story goes, or it is often told,
a new day will arise and all the dance halls
will be full of skeletons.
They are coming back to life and on a grassy hill.
The lion will lay down with the lamb
and I won't ever be lonely again.

But until that time I think had better find
some disbelief to suspend,
because I don't want to feel like this again.

I met you through a common friend
in the attic of my parents' house,
and though I didn't know it then,
I soon was finding out;
oh, you are the roots that sleep beneath my feet
and hold the earth in place.

Each time a faucet opens
words are spoken.
The water runs away
and I hear your name.
No, nothing has changed.

There was a book I read and loved;
the story of a ship
who sailed around the world and found
that nothing else exists
beyond his own two sails and wooden shell
and what is held within.

All else is sure to pass.
We clutch and grasp
and debate what's truly permanent.
But when the wind starts to shift,
well, there's no argument.
Now I sing and drink and sleep on floors
and try hard not to be annoyed
by all these people worrying about me.

So when I'm suffocating through some awful drive,
you occasionally cross my mind.
It's my hidden hope that you are still among them.
Well are you?

Oh, you are the roots that sleep beneath my feet
and hold the earth in place.
Each time a curtain opens,
sunlight pours in.
A lifetime melts away
and we share a name
on some picturesque grave.

There's a voice on the phone
telling what had happened.
Some kind of confusion,
more like a disaster.
And it wondered how you were left unaffected,
but you had no knowledge.
No, the chemicals covered you.
So a jury was formed
as more liquor was poured.
No need for conviction;
they're not thirsty for justice.
But I slept with the lies I keep inside my head.
I found out I was guilty.
I found out I was guilty.
But I won't be around for the sentencing
'cause I'm leaving on the next airplane.
And though I know that my actions are impossible to justify,
they seem adequate to fill up my time.
But if I could talk to myself like I was someone else,
well then maybe I could take your advice
and I wouldn't act like such an ******* all the time.

There's a film on the wall
that makes the people look small
who are sitting beside it,
all consumed in the drama.
They must return to their lives once the hero has died.
They will drive to the office,
stopping somewhere for coffee;
where the folk singers, poets, and playwrights convene
dispensing their wisdom;
Oh dear amateur orators.
They will detail their pain in some standard refrain.
They will recite their sadness
like it's some kind of contest.
Well if it is I think i'm winning it, all beaming with confidence
as I make my final lap.
The gold metal gleams,
so hang it around my neck.
'Cause I am deserving it: the champion of idiots.

But a kid carries his Walkman
on that long bus ride to Omaha.
I know a girl who cries when she practices violin,
'cause each note stands so pure
it just cuts into her,
and then the melody comes pouring out her eyes.
Now to me, everything else,
it just sounds like a lie.

Why do you lay in the grass?
Why do you lay there?
Don't you want to be found?
Why do you lay in the grass?
Why do you lay there?
Don't you want to be found?
Why do you lay in the grass?
Why do you lay in the grass?
Don't you want that?
Don't you want that?
Don't you want that?
Isn't the sun even going to try to find a hole in the clouds?
Isn't the sun even going to try to find a hold in the clouds?
Isn't it even gonna try?
Isn't it even gonna try
to find a hole in the clouds?
Isn't it even gonna try?
Why won't it try, then?
Why do you lay in the grass?
Why do you lay there?
Don't you want to be found?
Why do you lay so low in the grass?
Why do you lay there?
Don't you want to be found?
Why do you lay in the grass?
Why do you lay in the grass?
Don't you want to be found?
Don't you want to be found?
I thought that you wanted that.

My brother finds comfort in calculators.
He assigns every number a name.
He believes that they add up to certainty and he is upset with fractions that remain.
So I examine these maps with my eyes, and at best I can trace with my finger
all the way to that town where she went in an attempt to forget the cracks and the lines of my face.

So Jetsabel cleaned out the closets for me and she piled up the boxes in the hall.
Tomorrow when she wakes she'll come take them away and they'll never haunt me again;
but it is still hard to sleep with the moon's heavy beams.
I run barefoot to the backyard, just to freeze in my place by the rod iron gate;
too afraid and ashamed to advance.

Today I walked through the snow and found a field of headstones.
They were in rows like the weeks in calendars where each box is a day you can never escape
without pills or the poison of sleep.
These memories leak from these faucets that weep.
Hot tears splash against the shower floor and I stand in the steam as if inside a dream--
I can see her again by the sink.
From behind the bathroom mirror she pulls a thermometer and places it under my tongue.

She said, "You're as pale as a sheet. You look awful, my sweet. Lay down and wait for the sun."
So I stayed in that bed. She brought me water and read each night from a volume out loud.
She whispered soft poetry. Her favorite was Anabel Lee.
And those words, like these drugs, comforted me.
But the clocks kept waving their hands
and she couldn't understand why temperature would never drop.
And though she promised with tears that she would always be here,
I heard truth like the sounding sea.

I said, "My Arienette, how soon you forget this house will never be your home,
and you will leave in the fall when the trees become graves and their colors lie dead in the grass."
Gold and green torture me like the lies I believe too easily.

Oh my Jetsabel, look at this hell that I have made.
If you want, maybe drop by sometime-- put some flowers on my grave
so that I will look beautiful in my silent sepulchre.
Yeah, that's fine. Throw some dresses away. I don't want anything of hers.
For the moon never shines and the stars never rise without bringing me dreams,
haunted by the ghosts of those bright eyes.

There's a middle aged woman; she's dragging her feet.
She carries baskets of clothes to the laundromat
while the Mexican children kick rocks into the street;
and they laugh in a language I don't understand,
but I love them.
Why do I love them?
So the neighborhood is dimming as I smoke on the porch
and watch the people as they pass, enclosed by their cars;
on their faces just anger or disappointment.
I start wishing there was something I could offer them.
A consolation, what could I offer them?
And they are sad in their suburbs; robots water their lawn
and everything they touch gets dusted spotless,
and so they start to believe they've not touched anything at all
and the cars in the driveway only multiply.
They are lost in their houses.
I have heard them sing in the shower,
making speeches to their sister on the telephone
saying, "You come home.
Woman, you come here."
Don't stay so far away from me.
This weather has me wanting love more tangible.
Something I can hold 'cause it's getting cold.
I say, "Hold up our fists to the flame in the sky.
to block out the light that's reaching for our eyes."
'Cause it... 'cause it would blind us. Yeah, it will blind us.
Well, I've locked my actions in the grooves of routine.
So I may never be free of this apathy,
but I wait for a letter that is coming for me.
She sends me pictures of the ocean in an envelope
so there is still hope.
Yes, I can be healed.
There is someone looking for what I've concealed
in my secret drawer, in my pockets deep.
You will find the reasons I can't sleep and you will still want me.
But will you still want me? Will you still want...?
Well, I say come for the week.
You can sleep in my bed,
and pass through my life like a dream in my head.
It will... it will be easy. I will make it easy.
But all I have for the moment is a song to pass the time;
a melody to keep me from worrying.
Oh, some simple progression to keep my fingers busy,
and words that are sure to come back to me
and they'll be laughing, and they'll be laughing.
My mediocrity.
My mediocrity.
(and they'll be laughing.)

Did you expect it all to stop at the wave of your hand?
Like the sun's just going to drop if it's night you demand.
Well, in the dark we're just air, so the house might dissolve.
But once again we are gone. Who's going to care if we were ever here at all?
Well summer's going to come; it's gonna cloud our eyes again.
No need to focus when there's nothing that's worth seeing.
So we trade liquor for blood in an attempt to tip the scales.
I think you lost what you loved in that mess of details.
They seemed so important at the time,
but now you can't recall any of the names, faces, or lines;
it's more the feeling of it all.
Well, winter's going to end. I'm going to clean these veins again.
So close to dying that I finally can start living.

"Hi, we're back. This is radio KX and we're here with Conor Oberst of the band Bright Eyes. How are you doing Conor?"
"Fine, thanks. Just a little wet."
"Oh, it's still coming down out there?"
"Yeah, I sort of had to run from the car."
"Well we're glad you made it! Now, your album 'Fevers and Mirrors'... tell us about the title. I know there's a good deal of repeated imagery in the lyrics; fevers, mirrors, scales, clocks. Could you discuss some of this?"
"Sure, let's see... the fevers..."
"First, First let me say that, this is a brilliant record, man, we're all really into it here at the station and we get lots of calls, it's really good stuff."
"Thanks. Thanks a lot."
"So talk about some of the symbolisms."
"The fever?"
"Sure!"
"Well, the fever is basically, what ever ails you, or oppresses you... It could be anything. In my case it's my neurosis, my depression... but I don't want it to be limited to that... it's certainly different for different people. It's whatever keeps you up at night."
"I see."
"And the, and the mirror's like, as you might have guessed, self-examination, or reflection, or whatever form. This could be vanity, or self loathing. I, I know I'm, I'm guilty of both."
"That's interesting. How about the scale?"
"The scales are essentially our attempt to solve our problems quantitatively, through logic or rationalization. In my opinion it's often fruitless, but... always, no, not always... And the clocks and calendars it's uh... is just... time... our little measurements, it's like, it's always chasing after us."
"It is. It is. Uh, How about this Arienette, how does she fit into all this?"
"Um, I'd prefer not to talk about it, in case she's listening."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize she was a real person."
"She's not. I made her up."
"Oh, so she's not real?"
"Just as real as you or I."
"I don't think I understand."
"Neither do I, but after I grow up I will. I mean a lot... a lot of things are really unclear for me right now."
"That's interesting. Ah, now you mentioned your depression..."
"...No I didn't."
"You're from Nebraska, right?"
"Yeah. So?"
"Now, let me now if I'm getting too personal, but there seem to be a pretty dark past back there somewhere. What was it like for you growing up?"
"Dark? Not really... uh... actually I had a great childhood, my parents were wonderful. I went to a Catholic school. They have... they had money, so... it... It was all... easy. Basically I had everything I wanted handed to me."
"Really? So some of the references, like babies in bathtubs, are not biographical?"
"Well I do have a brother who died in a bathtub. Drowned. Actually, I had five brothers who died that way."
Chuckles
"No, I'm serious. My mother drowned one every year for five consecutive years. They were all named Padraic, so that's... they all got one song."
"Hmm."
"It's kinda like walking out the door to discover it's a window."
"But your music certainly is very personal."
"Of course. I put a lot of myself into what I do. But it's like, being an author you have to, free yourself to use symbolism and allegory to reach your goal and, and a part of that is, compassion, empathy for other people and their, and their situations. Some of what I sing comes from other people's experiences as well as my own. It... It shouldn't matter, the message is intended to be universal."
"I see what you mean."
"Can you make that sound stop, please?"
"Yes!

...and your goal?"
"I don't know. Uh, create feelings, I guess. A song? It never ends up the way you planned it, though."
"That's funny that you say that, do you think that..."
"Do you ever hear things that aren't really there?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Never mind. How long have you worked at this station?"
"Oh, just a few minutes. Uh, now you mentioned empathy for others. Would you say that that is what motivates you to make the music that you make?"
"No, not really. It's more a need for sympathy. I want people to feel sorry for me. I like the feel of the burn of the audience's eyes on me when I'm whispering all my darkest secrets into the microphone. When I was a kid, I used to carry this safety pin around with me, everywhere I went in my pocket. And when people weren't paying enough attention to me, I'd dig it into my arm until I started crying. Everyone would stop what they were doing and ask me what was the matter. I guess, I guess I kinda..."
"Really? You're telling me you're doing all this for attention?"
"No, I hate it when people look at me. I get nauseous. In fact, I could care less what people think, about me. Do you feel that? Wanna dance?"
"No, I'm feeling sick."
"I really just wanna be warm yellow light that pours all over everyone I love."
"So, uh, you're gonna play something for us now. Is this a new song?"
"Yeah, but I haven't written it yet. It's one I've been meaning to write, uh, called, "A Song To Pass The Time."
"Oh, that's a nice title."
"No it isn't. You should write your own scripts."
"Yeah, I know!"

Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly go the days.
Sunrise, sunset
You wake up then you undress.
It always is the same.
The sunrise and the sunsets
You are lying while you confess, keep trying to explain
the sunrise and the sunsets.
You realized then you forgot what you've been trying to retain.
But everybody knows that it is all about the things
that get stuck inside of your head,
like the song your roommate sings
or a vision of her body as she stretches out on your bed.
She raises her hands in the air, asked you,
when was the last time you looked in the mirror?
'Cause you've changed.
Yeah, you've changed.
Sunrises, sunsets
You're hopeful then you regret.
The circle never breaks.
With a sunrise or a sunset there's a change of heart or address.
Is there nothing that remains
for a sunrise or a sunset?
You're manic and depressed.
Will you ever feel okay?
For a sunrise or a sunset your lover is an actress.
Did you really think she'd stay
for a sunrise or a sunset?
You're either coming or you just left, but you're always on the way
towards a sunrise or a sunset, a scribble or a sonnet.
They are really just the same.
To the sunrise and the sunset,
the master and the servant have exactly the same fate.
It's a sunrise and a sunset
from a cradle to a casket
there is no way to escape
the sunrise and the sunset.
Hold your sadness like a puppet, keep putting on the play.
But everything you do is leading to the point
where you just won't know what to do.
And at that moment you may laugh,
but there is someone there who will be laughing louder than you.
So it's true; the trick is complete.
Become everything you said you never would be.
You're a fool! You're a fool!
Sunrise, sunset, sunrises, sunsets
Sunrise and the sunsets.
Sunrise, sunset
Where are you Arienette?
Where are you Arienette?

At the center of the world
there's a statue of a girl.
She is standing near a well
with a bucket, bare and dry.

I went and looked her in the eyes
and she turned me into sand.
This clumsy form that I despise;
it scattered easy in her hand

and came to rest upon a beach
with a million others there.
We sat and waited for the sea
to stretch out so that we could disappear

into the endlessness of blue;
into the horror of the truth.
You see, we are far less than we know.
Yeah, we are far less than we knew.

But we know what we could taste
Girls found honey to drench our hands.
Men cut marble to mark our graves.
Said we'll need something to remind us of
all the sweetness that has passed through us;
fresh sangria and lemon tea.
The priests dressed children for a choir.
white robed small voices praise Him
but found no joy in what was sung.
The funeral had begun.

In the middle of the day
when you drive home to your place
from that job that makes you sleep,
back to the thoughts that keep you awake,

long after night has come to claim
any light that still remains
in the corner of the frame
that you put around her face.

Two pills just weren't enough.
The alarm clock's going off
but you're not waking up.
This isn't happening happening happening
happening happening. It is.

Tomorrow when I wake up I'm finding my brother
and making him take me back down to the water.
That lake where we sailed and laughed with our father.
I will not desert him. I will not desert him.
No matter how I may wish for a coffin so clean,
or these trees to undress all their leaves onto me.
I put my face in the dirt and then finally I see
the sky that has been avoiding me.
I started this letter; I'm going to send it to Ruba;
It will be blessed by her eyes on the gulf coast of Florida.
With her feet in the sand and one hand on her swimsuit,
she will recite the prayer of my pen.
Saying, "Time take us forward, relief from this longing.
They can land that plane on my heart, I don't care.
Just give me November; the warmth of a whisper
in the freezing darkness of my room."
But no matter what I would do in attempt to replace
all these pills that I take trying to balance my brain;
I've seen the curious girl with that look on her face,
so surprised she stares out from her display case.

The fragile keep secrets gathered in pockets
and they'll sell them for nothing; a cheap watch or locket
That kind of gold washes off.
And the sad act like lepers; they stick to the shadows
and long to ring bells of warning to tell of their coming
so that the pure can shut their doors.
And the angry are animals, senseless and savage.
They act without order in logical lapses.
They stain their mouths with blood.
So take my hand; this barren land is alive tonight.
The corn has grown stalks that form a wall too high,
but the wind carries sounds that I can't hear from beyond that line.
Then the stalks begin to sway.
Oh stay with me Arienette, until the wolves are away.

Well the wicked are vultures and they bake in the canyons.
They circle in sunlight and wait for their victims
to collapse and call to them.
And the desperate are water; they will run down forever
as they soak into silence, mend up together
in a dark and distant, dark and distant place,
So don't leave me here with only mirrors watching me.
This house it holds nothing but the memories.
And the moon, it leaves silver but never sleep
and then the silver turns to gray.
Oh stay with me Arienette until the wolves are away.

You follow a footstep's echoes leading down a hall to a room.
There is music playing tiny bells with moving parts.
Here the shadows make things ugly; an effect quite undesirable.
The bold and yellow daylight grows like ivy across the wall
and it bounces off the painted porcelein, tiny dancing doll.
Her body spins. As she pirouettes again the world suddenly seems small.
On an off-white, subtle morning, you stretch your legs in the front seat;
and the road has made a vacuum where our voices used to be.
And you lay your head onto my shoulder; pour like water over me.
So if I just exist for the next ten minutes of this drive that would be fine,
and all of the trees that line this curb would be rejoicing and alive.
Soon all the joy that pours from everything makes fountains of your eyes
because you finally understand the movement of a hand waving goodbye.

Now and again it seems worse than it is,
but mostly the view is accurate.
You see your breath in the air as you'll climb up the stairs
to that coffin you call your apartment.
And you sink in your chair, brush the snow from your hair
and drink the cold away,
and you're not really sure what you're doing this for,
but you need something to fill up the days.
A few more hours.
There's a dream in my brain that just won't go away.
It's been stuck there since it came a few nights ago.
And I'm standing on a bridge in the town where I lived
as a kid with my mom and my brothers.
And then the bridge disappears and I'm standing on air
with nothing holding me.
And I hand like a star, ******* glow in the dark
for all those starving eyes to see,
like the ones we've wished on.
But now I'm confused. Is this death really you,
and do these dreams have any meaning?
No. No, I think it's more like a ghost that's been following us both.
Something vague that we're not seeing.
Something more like a feeling.

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 like 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 the bathroom floor?
For every speck of tile there's a thousand more
you won't ever see but 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, "and 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 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 are gray are gray."

Well the clock's heart it hangs inside its open chest with hands
stretched towards the calendar hanging itself
But I will not weep for those dying days
For all the ones that left, there are a few that stayed
and they found me here and pulled me from the grass where I was laid.

Here is a scale. Weight it out and you'll find, easily,
more than sufficient doubt that these colors you see
were picked in advance by some careful hand
with an absolute concept of beauty.

They are smeared and theses blurs come in random order
and they color the eyes of your former lovers
Hers were green like July,
except when she cried they were red.

Now I know a disease that these doctors can't treat
You contract on a day you accept all you see
is a mirror and a mirror is all it can be;
a reflection of something we're missing.

And a language just happened; it was never planned
and it's inadequate to describe where I am
in the room of my house where the light's never been
waiting for this day to end.

And these clocks keep unwinding and completely ignore
everything that we hate or adore.
Once a page of a calendar is turned, it's no more
So tell me then, what was it for?
Oh tell me, what was it for?

When I'm feeling down and it's hard for me to see
I just think of when you slept over, watching over me
and it makes me feel better, but really not that much
I reach out my hand, frightened to throw your hand a clutch
You taught me how to play this thing, then you left me here
I'm running from my sadness and I'm running from my fear

Something deep inside of me will always miss you
but you're gone and there is nothing I can do
(undecipherable) but like it ever was
My guitar needs tuning and the TV is in a fuss
I lay awake and cry at night, waiting for the sound
of your footsteps coming up the stairs as I watch a show downtown
You taught me how to play this thing, then you left me here
I'm running from my sadness and I'm running from my fear

A broken string, a broken heart is all I have to hold
but just like you have always been, I'll try to be as bold
I lost a real good friend today, but you had to leave
(undecipherable)
and now I hope, and every night I pray
that you are kept safe and brought back to me someday
I miss you and I love you, this you already know
What I didn't tell you is that you're my hero

Sick of your politics
[undecipherable]
I guess I never acted
To be free of this
Running backwards to blind myself
and please don't say the names
No one wants to hear them, not from you
Do your best
to work things out
without making a scene
I want, I want, I want, I want
I just want
cover it up
real real good
I tried, I tried, I tried, I tried
I tried, I tried, I tried, I tried
But just can't.

I used to think things were pure and good
I jammin' might with you
But that was then and this is now
and all I want to do
is eat you
Is eat you and beat you
and beat you
Is eat you, is eat you, is eat you

I'm over it, I'm over it, I'm over it
I'm over it, I'm over it, I'm over it

Your money buys you everything
but I'll just fade away
and it's **** good and it's no good

I can't stand it for much longer
I'm getting, I'm getting, I'm getting
so hungry
I can't deal with you anymore
All the things,
the things that you can do
and it will stop
It will stop
The anger just builds up inside
I feel like I'll blow up
I'll blow up
I guess I'll blow up

Now and then, a long, long time
I'm so **** tired
and now it's through
I'm almost done
and all I want to do
is hate you
I hate you, I hate you
I want to spit in your face
Hate you
I hate you
I'LL GET ON THE BUS AND **** YOU!
I hate you
I hate you
Hate you

I'm over it, I'm over it, I'm over it
I'm over it, I'm over it, I'm over it
I'm over it, I'm over it, I'm over it

I'm gonna fall down, but at least I know I tried
I wish I could help you there but my hands are tied
Stay out there for a while waiting for the light
I cannot say what is wrong, but I know I am right

Hey, sorry about your car
I'm sure it would have gotten real far
but I know you are
and I put in a jar, it'll grow into a star
Then I'll let it go, then I'll let it go, let it shine

I just want to get my point across
Can't you just listen to my side?
Can't you just listen to my side?
I just want to get my point across

Most of it's on fire
It doesn't take much to get a person wired
Set it down, just push it away
and the waste basket kills everyone
I'm sorry about your car
I'm sure it would have got real far
I still hope you are
I'll put it in a jar and it'll grow into a star
and then I'll make it mine
Yeah and then I'll make it mine

And I know that you're just so trendy
You get sick inside, just look at you
Hang it on a wall by a post and don't let them see it there
Oh, put me in a waste basket!

Hey, sorry about your car
I know I could have made it start
Man, I tried so hard to make it
make it try to grow into a star
Then I'll blow you up, push it in my face,
put me out of place
I'm losing the race, then I'll let it go
Yeah, no one has to know
because I'll put it in the car
Yeah, sorry about it, sir
and then I'll put it in a jar and it'll go real far.

I saw you at the subway the other day
You were drinking hot chocolate
I thought about asking you for a sip
but on second thought I didn't want to burn my tongue
I chased you up the stairs and outside
I got into a taxi cab
I didn't want to see you, you were looking good
I wanted to cool off and take some time out of the busy day
I heard a knock on my door, my door
Who was there?
What are you doing here?
I'm really not sure you should be here right now
Because I'm going. It's getting a little pricey
that you should be in Sweden, my friend
because it's the only place for you
I hear they have really nice gear of sorts there.
You should be in Sweden, my friend.
Yeah, you should be in Sweden.
Get yourself to Sweden
I'll tell you what we can do

You're not bent on calling me
and we'll do lunch, I'm sure.
Your fax machine can fax my bags
and it will get in touch with your answering machine's secretary.

Your hair doesn't shine like it used to.
You're not using that conditioner I gave you last year for your birthday.
It was salon selected. I thought you would like it.
And now I'm so scared. I'm pale as white.
I would invite you to sit but I didn't want you to ruin my new sofa.
I've felt this too many times.
I just got myself back up the nerve to say, the nerve
that you should be in Sweden, my friend.
What are you doing here?
You should be in Sweden.
You can ski when you're there.
You should be in Sweden, my friend.
Yeah, get yourself to Sweden.
I don't care how you do it.
Just go to Sweden. Go to Sweden.
I'll tell you what we can do.

You're not bent on calling me,
but we'll do lunch, I'm sure.
Your fax machine can fax me back
and get in touch with my cappuccino maker.

You're not bent on calling me,
and we'll talk for a while, I'm sure.
You can get back my postcard machine
and it'll get in touch with your answering machine's secretary.

You turn on a spindle
You're so much looser now, but you're not explaining how you gained such new repose
I touch the clasp of your locket with its picture held
Some secret you wouldn't tell but let it choke your neck
So we imagine a darkness where all shapes divide;
solids changing into light with burst of heat so bright
Well fine, don't you do what I want you to
Yeah, don't degrade yourself the way I do
because you don't depend upon all the **** I use to make my moods improve
Near a sea of pianos there were waves of chords
that crashed against the shore in one huge and useless roar
and there were girls bringing water;
like a dream, they came to cure the fever of my brain
and soothe my burning throat
And they made me a necklace, hanging beads of sweat on a string of my regrets
and placed it around my neck
And they were singing, don't you do what you wanted to
Yeah, don't destroy yourself like those cowards do
Maybe the sun keeps coming up because it's gotten used to you
and your constant need for proof

In the morning
when you throw up water
and your skin turns a pale pale yellow
Well everyday you lose more color
Do you think that someone paints your mirror?
So you think that things sound different
at the time when you speak
Well there are visions much clearer than these blurs that you see
and like Neely O'Hara, you swallow your sleep
and wake up in the morning
to find out you are not who you used to be
You don't recognize the behavior
or the spelling of your name or the shape that is in the mirror
Well you'd swear it is not the same
and like Neely O'Hara
you swallow your sleep and you really can't remember
but you know you are not
(think you are not)
No, you are not who you used to be

There is a car parked where the block begins
and there are people singing praises
Say it's all because of him
And there is a bird perched on a frayed wet wire
and his voice sings out for a lover
but it's covered by the choir of voices
reaching way beyond the rafters
With devotion they perform these sacred tasks
They cross themselves and offer up their checkbooks
Slight suffering is not too much to ask
Besides, we are all making money
and we are all ******* alone
and we don't know what we are doing
Maybe just buying us some hope
because we know that we are lonely
Yeah, lonely that's for sure
And the older ones are coughing
And the older ones are dying
Maybe we are all dying
I pass a graveyard on my way to work
Today I saw two dozen white roses
on a fresh new mound of dirt
and I wondered about the occupant
When the darkness finally swallowed him was he calm and content
or was he sweating in a struggle to keep breathing,
ripping apart the sheets that dressed his bed,
crying out loud for someone to help him
and collapsing on his back all pale and dead?
Maybe it's me who's this unstable,
always obsessed about the end
Why can't I let what happens happen
and just enjoy the time I spend?
Oh how I wish it was so easy
but when there is no point to anything it can get a bit confusing
Why is it that I keep going?
Why is it that we keep going?

Sitting around, no work today
Try pacing to keep awake
Laying around, no school today
Just drink until the clock has circled all the way
It is late afternoon
as you walk through the rooms
of a house that is quiet
except for unanswered telephones
You stand near the sink
while you're mixing a drink
You think you don't want to pass out
where your roommates will find you again
Stumble around the neighborhood with nothing to do
You're always looking for something
to sniff, to smoke, or swallow
Calling over next door to see what they got
but you would settle for anything
that would make your brain slow down or stop
Break this circle of thoughts you chase
before they catch up back with you
and your parents noticed your thinning face
all the weight you lost
You said, "I'm done feeling like a skeleton,
no more sleep walking dead."
You're going to wake from this coma
You're going to crawl from this bed you have made
and stop counting on that camera
that hangs around your neck
because it won't ever remember
what you choose to forget
as you try to find some source of light
Try to name one thing you like
You used to have such a longer list
and light you never had to look for it
But now it's so easy to second guess everything you do
until all you want is to finish this half-empty glass
before the ice melts away
The feeling always used to pass
but seems like it's everyday
Seems like it's every night now

Let's sail away past the noise of the bay
Let's sail away past the birth and death of the day
Let's sail away to where the blues and greens swirl into grey
Let's sail away
Let's sail away past the cradle of these waves
Let's sail away past the tide and its slow decay
Let's sail away to where the water goes, some endless open space
Let's sail away
Take only what you need, my love, and leave the rest behind
Don't be afraid of where we'll go, my love
I promise you will be fine
Now you are the only one that's mine
Let's sail away past the reflections of the light
Let's sail away floating weightless through the night
Let's sail away like a photograph fading to all white
It's finally alright
Forget all the mistakes, my love
They won't be made again
Leave the photos in the drawer, my love
We no longer need them
We both know where we've been
Let's sail away disappearing in a mist
Let's sail away with a whisper and a kiss
or vanish from a road somewhere, like Tereza and Tomas
suspended in this bliss

The language in the dimmer rooms seems to represent its light source well
How soft they speak and seem to be at peace
with the movement of the music and the madness that is pulling me into this
And the shades of the lamps are woven red
The light, it stains and consecrates
anointing all forgotten forms that swirl and smoke
and haunt this place
The girls in gowns all nurse the dark
pulling it near to their swelling *******
and watch as it seeps to their hearts
and beats within their ****** chests
And here I know that seduction breeds from wanton hearts that would
****** and grows and spreads its vine
and leaves embracing those who might have moved
But now we're made to drink the night from vials black and thick
with such intoxicating delights would leave you drunk
inside this dream
And you watch them take the light from you
and you find yourself on a velvet couch
tasting the skin of a foreign girl
Her eyes are black and wet like oil
and she ties your hands with a string of pearls
and you tremble like a frightened bird
And she closes in and captures you to place you
in a silver cage deep within her poisoned womb
So once you're safe inside she might let you out
to fly in circles around the room,
but it's always night and there is no moon
and you wonder if you're alive
and you're not sure if you want to be
but you drink her sweat like it was wine
any you lay with her on a bed of blue and it's awful sweet
like the fruit she cuts and feeds to you

I spent a week drinking the sunlight of Winnetka, California
where they understood the weight of human hearts
You see, sorrow gets too heavy and joy it tends to hold you
with the fear that it eventually departs
And the truth is I've been dreaming of some tired, tranquil place
where the weather won't get trapped inside my bones
and if the years of searching find one sympathetic face
then it is there I will plant these seeds and make my home
I spent a day dreaming of dying in Mesa, Arizona
where all the green of life had turned to ash
and I felt I was on fire with the things I could have told you
I just assumed that you eventually would ask
and I wouldn't have to bring up my so badly broken heart
and all those months I just wanted to sleep
And though spring, it did come slowly, I guess it did its part
My heart was thawed and continues to beat
I visited my brother on the outskirts of Olympia
where the forest and the water become one
and we talked about our childhood, like a dream we were convinced of,
that perfect peaceful street where we came from
And I know he heard me strumming all those sad and simple chords
as I sat inside my room so long ago
And it hurts that he's still shaking from those secrets that were told by a
car closed up too tight and heart turned cold
And I went to San Diego;
the birthplace of the summer
and watched the ocean dance under the moon
And there was a girl I knew there, one more potential lover
I guess that something's got to happen soon
because I know I can't keep living in this dead or dying dream
And as I walked along the beach and drank with her
I thought about my true love, the one I really need
with eyes that burn so bright they make me pure
I long to be with you

Now that it's June, we'll sleep out in the garden
and if it rains we'll just sink into the mud
where it is quiet and much cooler than the house is
And there is no clocks or phones to wake us up
because I have learned that nothing is as pressing
as the one who is pressing would like you to believe
And I am content to walk a little slower
because there is nowhere that I really need to be
I find that life is easier when it is just a blur
with no details to confuse who or what or where I was
So when the ending comes, the full regret will seem obscure

But these are the days we dream about when the sunlight paints us pure
and this apartment could not be prettier as when we danced up there alone
This TV is old, the color is ******, do you see
the difference in the shades?
But the green is still close to green, my love
and I believe we are the same
and we'll stay like this, all green and gold
The light collects and projects your heart on a movie screen
and if you close your eyes
we will always be the way we were that night
You crawled inside of me
and you slept in my blood, the way you sleep now
The quietest hush has consumed this house
and when the doctors are gone and you sweat through the bed
with all these pictures and pills they piled around your head
Just rest now, and in a moment you will know everything
Was it just a dream?
It's too vague now to recount
An outline of the one you loved in a life that was not longer will be stands
above you as you sleep.

The city has *** with itself, I suppose
As the concrete collides, well, the scenery grows
and the lonely, once bandaged, lay fully exposed
They undressed their wounds for each other
And there's a boy in a basement with a four track machine
He's been strumming and screaming all night down there
The tape hiss will cover the words that he sings
They say it's better to bury your sadness
in a graveyard or a garden that waits for the spring
to awake from its sleep and burst into green
Well I've cried and you would think I'd be better for it
but the sadness just sleeps and it stays in my spine
for the rest of my life
And I've learned and you'd think I'd be something more now
but it just goes to show it is not what you know,
it's what you were thinking at the time
This feeling's familiar, I've been here before
In a kitchen this quiet I waited for
a sign or just something that might reassure me of anything close
to meaning or motion with a reason to move
I need something I want to be close to
And I scream but I still don't know why I do it
'Cause the sound never stays, it just swells and decays
So what is the point?
Why try to fight what is now so certain?
The truth is that all that I am is a passing event that will be forgotten

Contrast and compare between the busy ones
and the ones that don't care
Until there is no one that you really know
So I drift through these days of appointments and promises made
They will all end up broken and quickly replaced
Weeks are slow, days drag on
Even practice and parties seem long
but I found myself going
I guess there's nothing to do
Oh well
Group of kids, line of cars
More will show up after the bars close
There's this boredom that drowns everything
Bottles break, music plays, conversations competing for space
I look for a corner or a quieter room
There's no heat in this house
I can't breathe with these words in my mouth
but I'm not going to say them
Yeah, I've made this mistake before
On the stairs she grabs my arms, says
"What's up? Where you been? Is something wrong?"
I try to just smile and say everything's fine.

I dreamt of a fever,
One that would cure me of this cold, winter set heart
with heat to melt these frozen tears
burned with reasons as to carry on
Into these twisted months I plunge without a light to follow
but I swear that I would follow anything
Just get me out of here
And you get six months to adapt
Then you get two more to leave town
And in the event that you do adapt
we still might not want you around
But I fell for the promise of a life with a purpose
but I know that that's impossible now
And so I drink to stay warm
and to **** selected memories
'cause I just can't think anymore about that
or about her tonight
But I give myself three days to feel better
or else I swear I'll drive right off a ******* cliff
'cause if I can't learn to make myself feel better
how can I expect anyone else to give a ****?
And I scream for the sunlight or a car to take me anywhere
Just get me past this dead and eternal snow
'Cause I swear that I am dying, slowly but it's happening
and if the perfect spring is waiting somewhere
Just take me there
and lie to me and say
It's going to be alright

Come by when you get off work
I will be sitting around doing nothing
We can wait until the sun goes down
Then we will drive off deep into the night
I don't care where we are going
as long as I'm going with you
The summer swells in
With the heat comes a new kind of wanting
Cool nights never cooled us off
Lay around and wait for something to happen
when it is three lonely figures
a bedroom, a basement, she is scared
Which one is sleeping and which one is lying awake?
Which one is sleeping and which one is lying about it?
Afternoon drags on and on
Movie nights that never end
We can hang out all night long
Lay in bed and talk to a good friend
because you only get older and you probably forget what it's like
The university is quiet today
We didn't clean
We just talked in the bathroom
The girl always gets in the way
Ruined friendships but others replace them
These opinions are poison
I have been drinking them all of my life
I could never replace you
and I could never forget what it's like
Step out on a moonlit roof
The radio leads a feel good revolution
Cigarettes and my closest friends
I tell myself that I have to remember this
I have to remember this

She says she's read too many fashion magazines
She's forgotten what real love is like
And as the basement collects more kids off the street
they smoke themselves to death waiting for the band to begin
They've been tuning up there for an hour now
and I don't think I can stand another minute more
but just then the first chord strums, and the drums set in
and I know what I have been waiting around for
because no one's going home until the morning comes
No one's going to sleep until the sun comes up
Did you hear those first two songs?
they were ******* tough
and the band's not going to stop until the cops show up
so hold your applause until the end, and wait for the sadness to set in
because that's the only feeling that's worth a ****
He says he's done with the pop music scene
There's too many opinions and so few are worth a ****
He has got to learn to act a little more mean
because the mean ones always end up with the record deals
and it's only when I'm angry that I feel complete
When we are screaming at each other is when I'm most happy
I hang out with my friends and then I get depressed
and I drink myself to sleep with any strength that is left
and I quit going to church a year ago
and my teachers think that my faith is gone
But I can do without the eucharist because I found God
in a Solid Jackson song

She kills, with foreign films, the emptiness of day-to-day
and I wait until the weekend comes
so I can clear this uselessness from my brain
I count the days until she arrives
Those precious minutes when she is mine
as we walk from my front door to her car
We are so close and alone
but that will disappear in a room filled with the warmth
of others company
There is too much company
I hide my wounded pride and stare off into the other cars
If I could just speak the words to tell her
exactly how I feel
I count the ways that I might say it
but I know that none of them will work because
she won't feel the same
I've come this far
but I can't go through with it because the truth would hurt
too much
This hurts too much
She goes back to the west coast to drink in the sunshine
and I will stay here in these dead plains
and try to make a seed grow
and I would pray for rain
if I thought that that would help

And if it's true, Baby, I'm the one in love with you
and I guess that I've been all my life
and I know and I'll try
and I'll love you more than those other guys
It's because you mean the world to me
You're exactly what I need
Baby, I'm waiting for you to stop shaking
and come closer to me
My love and protection
My love and devotion
Devotion

Covered the spread, won the bets
and I'm now the one that won your heart
and I hope you'll always be mine
because our love is for all time
Trust is a virtue
I'll never desert you
or leave you behind
Forever and ever
We'll be together
Together
we'll be

Emily, sing something sweet for me
I want to feel the warmth inside your heart

Emily, sing something sweet for me
I need to hear those words out of your mouth

Emily, sing something please
I want to taste life behind your eyes

My grandfather's name was Moon
because his eyes were bright and round
and no amount of time or liquor could dull them

My grandmother's name was Joy
because it spilled out of her heart
and bathed her precious children in its warmth

And there was happiness in life beyond the sorrow
and the pain
but how they ever found it
I cannot explain

I guess time has a way of making everything alright
it's just there is not enough of it
and so we drink and we sing and we celebrate
this lie and hope that it will last
Morning is here, night has passed

My grandfather was a doctor
he cured the sick with his kind hands
and he taught me how to sail and how to find dry land

My grandmother was all sweetness
and when she spoke we all heard bells and
they rang in such a way that we were comforted
and they held onto each other with all the strength they had
and they loved with devotion beyond what I understand

But I guess fear has a way of making sleep unbearable
and the days seem dark and long
but we cry and we dance
and we stumble into love with perfect, awkward grace
The moon is gone and the sun has took its place.

Meaning is sometimes hard to spot
It begins with the flickering of cigarettes
In the darkness of a dorm room
somewhere in the suffocated mid-west
And if this is real then I was mistaken
And if there is truth then why can't we find it?
Beauty comes to those who have been waiting for something
bigger than themselves
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 they have been lied to
But if this is real then I was mistaken
And the vision fades as quickly as it came
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 other 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 else this vision is fading
But until it's gone the pain will make us try
But this is the hope
I have been searching for
as the wings catch the sunlight of this old Nebraska skyline
This is the dream I am dying in
I will wake to find tomorrow
Be content without perfection
But if this is real then I was mistaken
and if the vision is gone then I was not aware

How many lights do you see?
There's one to say that night has come
And there's one that guards this jagged shore
And there's one to call the children home
And there's one to light the path they take

How many lights do you see?
There's one to keep the shadows off
And there's one that tells me she got home
And there's one to read his novel by
And there's one that warms this dreary room
And there's one to watch the baby sleep
And there's one to count the blinking stars
And there's one that I just can't forget
And there's one that I remember too

How many lights do you see?
There's one that waits for closing time
And there's one that gets left on all night
And there's one that marks the western sky
And it shines down on the quiet street
And there's one that floods the darker parts
And there's one that hurts my tired eyes
And there's one that says she's not asleep
And there's one that waits for her to wake

How many lights do you see?
There is one that spills out on the beach
And it sparkles on the jetting rocks
And there is one that waits for tired ships
That sleep within this tired port

I had a beautiful, beautiful time
The drives and the talks were amazing
The kind of friend I thought I'd never find
I had a beautiful, beautiful time

You have a beautiful, beautiful smile
The way it curls and collapses on your lips
When you touch me I shake like a child
It's late, I'm afraid you might leave
'Cause sometimes it seems like you still don't believe me
There's nothing I can do to concentrate
It's so distracting, always thinking of you
So I expose and explain and I meant everything I said
And it's moments like this that repeat and replay in my head
When I'm laying in bed

It's a beautiful, beautiful time
As you laugh and roll onto your stomach
The carpet embraces your design
My heart pounds as I lay by your side
And I find that I am unable to hide all these feelings that flow
In this basement, and in this dim light, you look so beautiful
I'm unsure and unclear with the words that I say
I'm happy when you're near and I wish that forever could stay
Just like today

You have beautiful, beautiful eyes
So bright and alive and enchanting
I want to be with you all of the time
It's hopeless but I have to try