your Great-Grandfather was a great lawyer, and his kid made a mint off the war. your Father shot stills and then directed films
that your Mum did publicity for. i saw your older Sis on the year's best book list,
and your Brother, he manages bands. and you're keen to downplay, but you're quick to betray with one well turned out wave of your hand. you come from wealth, yeah you've got wealth. what a bitch, they didn't give you much else.
i heard cuts by The Kinks on your speakers, i saw Poe and Artaud on your shelves.
while The Last Laugh's first scene on your flat panel screen lit Chanel that you've wrapped around yourself. you've got outsider art by an artist who arguably kidnapped a kid on your wall while your designers have slyly directed the eye down clean lines in your well-lit hall. you've got taste. what a waste that that's all that you have.
you wrote your thesis on the Gospel of Thomas, you shot some reversal film in Angkor Wat..and this book you once read says there's less people dead at this point now than those who are not. ..and this film we once saw was reviled for its flaws,
but its flaws were what made us have fun. ..and the life some folks had might have made us feel bad - why feel bad man, it's nothing that you've done. it's all in your hand, like a gun, like a globe, like a grand.
..and this thing you once said disappeared from my head in the time that it took to be amazed. ..and this thing you once did might have dazzled the kids, but the kids once grown up are gonna walk away. ..and your world is gonna change nothing, and our world is gonna change nothing.
- Singer Songwriter, Okkervil River
they're waiting to hate you, so give them an excuse. they say that it changed you..i know that can't be true.
i came in the entrance the makeup girl went through and waited for ages, i waited there for you.
hats off to my distant hope. i'm held back by a velvet rope, and he's behind the wall the smoke machine has made between us. ..and if he does exist; if camera clicking, green room guests swirl round the man whose real life can be touched, then i will do just that much.
a little lie, a puff of smoke. ..my street tonight's on fire with hope - you'll be there, you'll see us. for every single inch of me, i'm going to make you mean it - with every single cell of me, i'm going to make you mean the words you sigh.
you lie. goodbye.
- Blue Tulip, Okkervil River
all sweetly sung and succinctly stated - words and music he calculated to make you sing along with your stereo on, as you stand in your shorts on your lawn. get completely incorporated by some couple who consummated their first love by the dawn.
by the back room the kids all waited to meet the man in bright green that they wrecked their hearts upon - he's the liar who lied in this pop song.
so here's to car seats so cruelly weighted, and here's the faces already faded at the end of the day when they just threw away the only good thing that they owned
and now they're pinned down and strangulated.
but, at the food court, people lined up to see the man who dreamed up the dream
that they wrecked their hearts upon - he's the liar who lied in his pop song.
week by week it climbs up and comes on and we're feeling all right though we know it's all wrong. i'm ashamed to admit that i cannot resist what i wish were the truth, but it's not.
i truly believe we're not strong, and we'll sing until our voices are gone and then sink beneath that manicured lawn.
this is respectfully dedicated to the woman who concentrated all of her love to find that she'd wasted it all on the liar who lied in this song.
- Pop Lie, Okkervil River
he gets close, but i choke. take your shit, take your clothes and get out of my home. you say your real name is John.
hey thanks John, go sing songs, go rock on, roll your crew on down the road to the next sold out show. think you can get up above me, well i want you to know - you're a figure of fun to everyone beneath lone-star neon blue broken sign. they wish they were you, like i wish you were mine. ..what a dumb thing to do.
how come I shout "goodbye" when God knows i just want to make this white lie big enough to climb inside with you.
another day, lost and gone, clipping pages from the news for the senator's son. well he just strolls through the lobby and glad hands everyone, another day tossed and done.
i go home, take off clothes, smoke a bowl, watch a whole TV movie. i was supposed to be writing the most beautiful poems and completely revealing divine mysteries up close.
i can't say that i'm feeling that much at all at twenty-seven years old.
i am discussed with desire by the guys who conspire at the only decent bar in town,
and they drink MGDs, and they wish they had me. ..like i wish i had fire. what a sad way to be, what a girl who got tired. so i wonder who you got your hooks in tonight? was she happy to be hooked and on your arm, did she feel alive? her head alright?
- On Tour with Zykos, Okkervil River
she was once mine - that smile that shines from the glossy magazine that stuck inside the Sunday Times. ..she was so sweet on Christmas Eve with the snow set deep, when we went walking through the pines. i had just been fired and her first offer had arrived and the New Year would see her flying far away from me, though i didn't know it at the time.
with outstretched hands now she commands a famous figure for every picture, and she stands up strong and she demands - and they deliver. yeah, she's a fixture. ..and it's a mixture of dumb jealousy and fear that i might feel, should she appear, just like it hasn't been three years.
..and there's a distance to her voice over the phone and that's because she stands alone..while i'm still sitting here. girl, you see me here on another quiet night.
and you won't wait for me in some secluded stand of trees some Christmas Eve some God was kind enough to set aside, although i'd love you to; i'm proud of you. ..God knows i'm feeling really stupid now for having ever said goodbye
during the fight i said, "yeah right" when you insisted that i visit, that you'd write. now, i know you're working hard so i never hear from you, and that's fine.
you look the same on TV as when you were mine. i walk in from the kitchen and i finger the remote control. i watch you from the distance - you go walking through the terminal. i remember every instance when you stung me. oh you're so lovely, oh you're so smart.. so go turn their heads, go knock them dead, go break their hearts.
- Calling and Not Calling My Ex - Okkervil River
that your Mum did publicity for. i saw your older Sis on the year's best book list,
and your Brother, he manages bands. and you're keen to downplay, but you're quick to betray with one well turned out wave of your hand. you come from wealth, yeah you've got wealth. what a bitch, they didn't give you much else.
i heard cuts by The Kinks on your speakers, i saw Poe and Artaud on your shelves.
while The Last Laugh's first scene on your flat panel screen lit Chanel that you've wrapped around yourself. you've got outsider art by an artist who arguably kidnapped a kid on your wall while your designers have slyly directed the eye down clean lines in your well-lit hall. you've got taste. what a waste that that's all that you have.
you wrote your thesis on the Gospel of Thomas, you shot some reversal film in Angkor Wat..and this book you once read says there's less people dead at this point now than those who are not. ..and this film we once saw was reviled for its flaws,
but its flaws were what made us have fun. ..and the life some folks had might have made us feel bad - why feel bad man, it's nothing that you've done. it's all in your hand, like a gun, like a globe, like a grand.
..and this thing you once said disappeared from my head in the time that it took to be amazed. ..and this thing you once did might have dazzled the kids, but the kids once grown up are gonna walk away. ..and your world is gonna change nothing, and our world is gonna change nothing.
- Singer Songwriter, Okkervil River
they're waiting to hate you, so give them an excuse. they say that it changed you..i know that can't be true.
i came in the entrance the makeup girl went through and waited for ages, i waited there for you.
hats off to my distant hope. i'm held back by a velvet rope, and he's behind the wall the smoke machine has made between us. ..and if he does exist; if camera clicking, green room guests swirl round the man whose real life can be touched, then i will do just that much.
a little lie, a puff of smoke. ..my street tonight's on fire with hope - you'll be there, you'll see us. for every single inch of me, i'm going to make you mean it - with every single cell of me, i'm going to make you mean the words you sigh.
you lie. goodbye.
- Blue Tulip, Okkervil River
all sweetly sung and succinctly stated - words and music he calculated to make you sing along with your stereo on, as you stand in your shorts on your lawn. get completely incorporated by some couple who consummated their first love by the dawn.
by the back room the kids all waited to meet the man in bright green that they wrecked their hearts upon - he's the liar who lied in this pop song.
so here's to car seats so cruelly weighted, and here's the faces already faded at the end of the day when they just threw away the only good thing that they owned
and now they're pinned down and strangulated.
but, at the food court, people lined up to see the man who dreamed up the dream
that they wrecked their hearts upon - he's the liar who lied in his pop song.
week by week it climbs up and comes on and we're feeling all right though we know it's all wrong. i'm ashamed to admit that i cannot resist what i wish were the truth, but it's not.
i truly believe we're not strong, and we'll sing until our voices are gone and then sink beneath that manicured lawn.
this is respectfully dedicated to the woman who concentrated all of her love to find that she'd wasted it all on the liar who lied in this song.
- Pop Lie, Okkervil River
he gets close, but i choke. take your shit, take your clothes and get out of my home. you say your real name is John.
hey thanks John, go sing songs, go rock on, roll your crew on down the road to the next sold out show. think you can get up above me, well i want you to know - you're a figure of fun to everyone beneath lone-star neon blue broken sign. they wish they were you, like i wish you were mine. ..what a dumb thing to do.
how come I shout "goodbye" when God knows i just want to make this white lie big enough to climb inside with you.
another day, lost and gone, clipping pages from the news for the senator's son. well he just strolls through the lobby and glad hands everyone, another day tossed and done.
i go home, take off clothes, smoke a bowl, watch a whole TV movie. i was supposed to be writing the most beautiful poems and completely revealing divine mysteries up close.
i can't say that i'm feeling that much at all at twenty-seven years old.
i am discussed with desire by the guys who conspire at the only decent bar in town,
and they drink MGDs, and they wish they had me. ..like i wish i had fire. what a sad way to be, what a girl who got tired. so i wonder who you got your hooks in tonight? was she happy to be hooked and on your arm, did she feel alive? her head alright?
- On Tour with Zykos, Okkervil River
she was once mine - that smile that shines from the glossy magazine that stuck inside the Sunday Times. ..she was so sweet on Christmas Eve with the snow set deep, when we went walking through the pines. i had just been fired and her first offer had arrived and the New Year would see her flying far away from me, though i didn't know it at the time.
with outstretched hands now she commands a famous figure for every picture, and she stands up strong and she demands - and they deliver. yeah, she's a fixture. ..and it's a mixture of dumb jealousy and fear that i might feel, should she appear, just like it hasn't been three years.
..and there's a distance to her voice over the phone and that's because she stands alone..while i'm still sitting here. girl, you see me here on another quiet night.
and you won't wait for me in some secluded stand of trees some Christmas Eve some God was kind enough to set aside, although i'd love you to; i'm proud of you. ..God knows i'm feeling really stupid now for having ever said goodbye
during the fight i said, "yeah right" when you insisted that i visit, that you'd write. now, i know you're working hard so i never hear from you, and that's fine.
you look the same on TV as when you were mine. i walk in from the kitchen and i finger the remote control. i watch you from the distance - you go walking through the terminal. i remember every instance when you stung me. oh you're so lovely, oh you're so smart.. so go turn their heads, go knock them dead, go break their hearts.
- Calling and Not Calling My Ex - Okkervil River
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