| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 1. |
| 6:38 | 
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Dead in the water
It's not a paid vacation The sons and daughters of city officials Attend demonstrations It's hardly a sink or swim When all is well if the ticket sells Out with a whimper It's not a blaze of glory You look down from your temple As people endeavor to make it a story And chisel a marble word But all is lost if it's never heard But I've got someone to make reports That tell me how my money's spent To book my stays and draw my blinds So I can't see what's really there And all I need's a great big congratulations I'll keep your dreams You pay attention for me As strange as it seems I'd rather dissolve than have you ignore me The ground may be moving fast But I tied my boots to a broken mast The difference is clear You throw it in your cauldron Rust and veneer, dusk and dawn Steinways and Baldwins You start with a simple stock of all the waste And salt to taste But damn my luck and damn these friends That keep on combing back their smiles I save my grace with half-assed guilt And lay down the quilt upon the lawn Spread my arms and soak up congratulations |
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| 2. |
| 10:21 |
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Sleep as the goer
the bridge that watches the light speed throuh and cries while the spirit stumbles and inside missile for the protection of you maybe it's silent the voice can't bear anymore strain but speak without even knowing and streams outside in the direction of truth there's no reason there's no secret to decode if you can't save it, leave it dying on the road wide open arms can feel so cold so cold feel so cold balance the books, the ledges, the loons the disappointed look on the faces that squint at the moon let's see it with shadows enhance and then vote to decide who'll advance silver jet plane, making a turn exciting the brain that expects it to crash and then burn it's not the life lesson I'd've guessed if you're conscious you must be depressed or at least cynical but someone might still eat the steaks even if they're tough spending the day chewing the fat floating away isn't rough but it's not enough oh marianne, pass me the joint the sandpaper's tan go-getters are surfing the point and london's a cratch on the lens it's over before it begins silk round her neck falls down to her shoulders the older I get, the more I suspect there's a trick but really there's no trip at all that doesn't result in a fall or a faltering but something might spit out the bait even if it's real rolling away missing a spoke close to the ground like a wheel but it's not a troph holding the line clutching the phone nobly wasting the night, but it isn't right it's not right smelling for blood praying for rain running away isn't rough, but it's not enough the low tide is telling me, when it's over to breathe in everything exposed and comes back to cover me in a blanket being here's always changing tunes the empty sky surrounds me but i can't see at all wide open arms can feel so cold and you can sit beside me and tell me what it's worth but I hope I die before i get sold I hope I die before I get sold I'd rather die before I get sold if you find the soul that you lost frozen in a starry void take it within and hope the sight of blood can will signs of life to return back to the way that it was long before it made a noise to keep on quietly reminding you what's never created or destroyed wake as the swell peaks the close-outs drowning the birds with roars and howls scare the new unkindness that picks and laughs at the carrion scene forces you see breath can always go into hiding and wait 'till it passes over or stay far gone for all eternity |
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| 3. |
| 4:13 |
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So tired
Soul searching I followed the sounds to a cathredal imagine my surprise to find that they were produce by Brian Eno past the gates quite stark the roses trimmed and the windows dark I see the walls through a limestone crack not red not blue not yellow but black and all the space left for you if the sky was synthesized you'd probably know he taught me many things the wisdowm of o bleak stratagems the prophet of a sapphire soul presented through creative freedoms and everything i say is true cuz if i was telling lies it'd probably show i can tell that he's kind of smiling but what does he know? we're always one step behind him, he's Brian Eno Brian Eno when I was stuck he'd make me memorize elaborate curses tinctures and formulas to ditch the chori and flip the verses my whole foundation came unglued when i tried to humanize by ambient light dipping swords in metaphors yeah but what does he know? he's go the whole world behind him he's Brian Eno Brian Eno! he promised pretty worlds and all the silence I could dream of Brian peter George St John Le Baptiste De La Salle Eno well all alone by the oldest stone where the shade trees grow the creature by the water feature with a ghostly glow making sure that time's preserved well we reap what we sow he's go the whole world behind him he's Brian Eno etc. etc. |
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