'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.
you're keen to downplay, but you're quick to betray with one well turned out wave of your hand.
you come from wealth; 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.
this film we once saw was reviled for its flaws, but its flaws were what made us have fun.
it's all in your hand; like a gun, like a globe, like a grand.
this thing you once said disappeared from my head in the time that it took to be amazed. this thing you once did might have dazzled the kids, but the kids once grown up are going to walk away.
your world is going to change nothing..our world is going to change nothing.'
- Singer Songwriter, Okkervil River
'packed and all eyes turned in, no-one to see on the quay. no-one waving for me; just the shoreline receding. ticket in my hand and thinking, 'wish i didn't hand it in'. ..cos who said sailing is fine? leaving behind all the faces that i might replace if i tried on that long ride.
looking deep inside..but i don't want to look so deep inside yet.
look out at each town that glides by and there's another crowd to drown in crying eyes, and see how that light you love now just won't shine. there might just be another star that's high and far in some other sky.
we packed up all of our bags. the ship's deck now sags from the weight of our tracks as we pace beneath flags black and battered, rattling our swords in service of some feted foreign lord.
we sail out on order from him but we find that the maps he sent to us don't mention lost coastlines. where nothing we've actually seen has been mapped or outlined; we don't recognize the names upon these signs.
every night finds us rocking and rolling on waves wild and wide. we have lost our way..nobody's going to say it outright.'
- Lost Coastlines, Okkervil River
'all sweetly sung and succinctly stated. words and music 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, a falling star wished upon and flashed in the sky and was gone.
by the back room, the kids all waited to meet the man in bright green who had dreamed up the dream that they rest their hearts upon. he's the liar who lied in his pop song, and you're lying when you sing along.
here's the car seat 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.
but at the food court, the float's inflated. people line up to see the man who dreamed up the dream that they rest their hearts upon. he's the liar who lied in his pop song, and you're lying when you sing along.
week by week, it climbs up and comes on. we're feeling alright, though we know it's all wrong. i'm ashamed to admit that i can't help resist what i wished was the truth, but it's not, and i truly believe we're not strong, and we'll sing til our voices are gone.
this is respectfully dedicated to the woman who concentrated all of her love to find that she'd wasted it on the liar who lied in this song.
- Pop Lie, 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. 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.
hats off to my distant hope. a little lie, a puff of smoke, my street tonight's on fire with hope you'll be there, you'll see us. i've got my ear against the screen, i'll feel your feelings crackling. 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
he gets close, but i choke.
take your shit, take your clothes and get out of my home. i want to love me or i want you long gone. 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. 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.
twenty seven years old.
i am discussed with desire by the guys who conspire at the only decent bar in town. 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.
i wonder who you've 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's 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 out-stretched hands, now she commands a famous figure for every picture. she stands up strong and she demands, and they deliver. she's a fixture.
it's a mixture of dumb jealously and fear that i might feel should she appear, just like it hasn't been three years..and there's distance to her voice over the phone
and that's because she stands alone, while i'm still sitting here.
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 love you too, i'm proud of you, God knows i'm feeling really stupid now
for ever having said 'Goodbye'.
during the fight, i said, 'yeah, right,' when insisted that i'd 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 where 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 stunned me..you're so lovely, you're so smart.
so go turn their heads, go knock them dead, go break their hearts. and i know you will.'
- Calling and Not Calling My Ex - Okkervil River
XXXXXXXXXXXX
+ some images from my new home / this weekend:
you're keen to downplay, but you're quick to betray with one well turned out wave of your hand.
you come from wealth; 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.
this film we once saw was reviled for its flaws, but its flaws were what made us have fun.
it's all in your hand; like a gun, like a globe, like a grand.
this thing you once said disappeared from my head in the time that it took to be amazed. this thing you once did might have dazzled the kids, but the kids once grown up are going to walk away.
your world is going to change nothing..our world is going to change nothing.'
- Singer Songwriter, Okkervil River
'packed and all eyes turned in, no-one to see on the quay. no-one waving for me; just the shoreline receding. ticket in my hand and thinking, 'wish i didn't hand it in'. ..cos who said sailing is fine? leaving behind all the faces that i might replace if i tried on that long ride.
looking deep inside..but i don't want to look so deep inside yet.
look out at each town that glides by and there's another crowd to drown in crying eyes, and see how that light you love now just won't shine. there might just be another star that's high and far in some other sky.
we packed up all of our bags. the ship's deck now sags from the weight of our tracks as we pace beneath flags black and battered, rattling our swords in service of some feted foreign lord.
we sail out on order from him but we find that the maps he sent to us don't mention lost coastlines. where nothing we've actually seen has been mapped or outlined; we don't recognize the names upon these signs.
every night finds us rocking and rolling on waves wild and wide. we have lost our way..nobody's going to say it outright.'
- Lost Coastlines, Okkervil River
'all sweetly sung and succinctly stated. words and music 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, a falling star wished upon and flashed in the sky and was gone.
by the back room, the kids all waited to meet the man in bright green who had dreamed up the dream that they rest their hearts upon. he's the liar who lied in his pop song, and you're lying when you sing along.
here's the car seat 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.
but at the food court, the float's inflated. people line up to see the man who dreamed up the dream that they rest their hearts upon. he's the liar who lied in his pop song, and you're lying when you sing along.
week by week, it climbs up and comes on. we're feeling alright, though we know it's all wrong. i'm ashamed to admit that i can't help resist what i wished was the truth, but it's not, and i truly believe we're not strong, and we'll sing til our voices are gone.
this is respectfully dedicated to the woman who concentrated all of her love to find that she'd wasted it on the liar who lied in this song.
- Pop Lie, 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. 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.
hats off to my distant hope. a little lie, a puff of smoke, my street tonight's on fire with hope you'll be there, you'll see us. i've got my ear against the screen, i'll feel your feelings crackling. 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
he gets close, but i choke.
take your shit, take your clothes and get out of my home. i want to love me or i want you long gone. 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. 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.
twenty seven years old.
i am discussed with desire by the guys who conspire at the only decent bar in town. 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.
i wonder who you've 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's 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 out-stretched hands, now she commands a famous figure for every picture. she stands up strong and she demands, and they deliver. she's a fixture.
it's a mixture of dumb jealously and fear that i might feel should she appear, just like it hasn't been three years..and there's distance to her voice over the phone
and that's because she stands alone, while i'm still sitting here.
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 love you too, i'm proud of you, God knows i'm feeling really stupid now
for ever having said 'Goodbye'.
during the fight, i said, 'yeah, right,' when insisted that i'd 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 where 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 stunned me..you're so lovely, you're so smart.
so go turn their heads, go knock them dead, go break their hearts. and i know you will.'
- Calling and Not Calling My Ex - Okkervil River
XXXXXXXXXXXX
+ some images from my new home / this weekend:
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