. . .
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you've had it up to here with my west country talk
you can hardly understand a word i say
the shortest tree around here is a hundred feet tall
it's gonna rain today
i try and tell you secrets 'til my face turns blue
i am not getting through to you
all the way across the ocean
they're gathering their strength again
lining up along the country's length again
this morning i know who you are
this morning i know who you are
on the river, the sun is bright gold
and the things you try to say to me make my blood run cold
but i hold you anyway, and we stare into the sun all day
and you're about to leave again
i've learned to read your movements
and i'm learning how to read your mind
the sun climbs up the sky for us above the mississippi
and i feel you in my arms, but you're hardly even with me
this morning i know who you are
this morning i know who you are
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you came down from heaven to the branch outside my window
your feathers were the color of snow
the dice were loaded against us ever seeing each other
but one of us had nowhere else to go
in your eyes were all the colors that the rainbow forgot
your wingspan was three feet wide or better
with your voice practicing notes from time's own beginning
you took apart the alphabet letter by letter
and here where it all stops for good
where the cool waters run
thought i saw a mouse kicking in your beak
it was only a skeleton
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sure as a surgeon
you slipped your hand into the door jam
blood coursing through the air tonight
i know who i am
and i know who you are
or who you were just an hour ago
static interference on the radio tonight
i know what i know
quick as lightning
you brought your hand back inside
and you shut the door behind you
it's too hot out there tonight
breath rising and falling
expansion contraction
why'd you tell me this?
were you looking for my reaction?
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most of the brine has got to boil away
most of the air has got to choke you
most of june i spent in jail again
i don't mean jail exactly
up in the pine tree
a red squirrel looked down at me
i am losing control of the language again
i am losing control of the language again
most of the things i used to hold on to
most of the things i used to say to you
most of the ways i knew around the local roads
are disappearing daily
high in the cottonwood
you were looking down at me and you sure looked good
your hair hanging down in the leaves
your neck tilted back to make a rainbow
i was losing control of the language again
i am losing control of the language again
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the wax paper that i taped over the windows
melted as quick as chocolate in the heat
and it'll probably never come off now
the windows look like frosted glass if you see them from the street
and the dim light that filters through
casts a new light on you
it makes me get all misty because i remember something
and then i see your shadow
and i, i wanna follow you all the way down this time
i want to see what it is you're going down for
i, i want you more than i want anything
i want you the way you were
you were lying in the moonlight outside in the grass
when i heard an animal voice somewhere in the dark
and i saw a wing shadow pass
and just then the gleam in your eye made my blood freeze
there was something up above us
rustling in the branches of the trees
and i, i pressed up against you again
i could hear your heartbeat steady, and hard, and pure
i used to love you so much that i was sure it would kill me
and i want you the way you were
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i know what my weaknesses are
probably better than you do
revolutionary chinese propaganda
the color of blue
i thought i knew what my weaknesses were anyway
then the orange tree blossomed last saturday
there was nothing in it but pain for me
i know what can hurt me real bad
and what can't hurt me anymore
i know how to rise up with the sun
and i am learning what sleep's good for
i thought i'd figured out the world and its circular way
then i saw the sun fall out of the sky the other day
there was nothing in it but pain for me
squirrels climbing trees in bloom
soft yellow light spilling into the room
my favorite records, my favorite books
the people i loved, the people i almost loved
light beckoning, wind whistling
hey hey hey hey
day breaking river rolling
hey hey
la la la la
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on venus it rains sulfuric acid
and the raindrops evaporate before they hit the ground
[actual lyric]
japanese red-crowned cranes by the water here
[alternate lyric]
japanese red clowns train by the water here
trouble in town
i feel like i'm gonna drown down here
it's all coming down down here
hurricane's in from australia
tore up the neighborhood
a telegram from lithuania
and the news is not good
and i don't speak the language down here
it's all coming down down here
yeah
johnson johnson is my name
brooklyn is my station
heaven is my resting place
and God is my salvation
. . .
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you turned to me and asked me if i'd always be your boy
as we drove across the river into western illinois
and on the railroad bridge, half a mile of solid steel
wheels were spitting out sparks, scraping at the rails
wind in your hair all right
sunset spilling through the rear window
your white t-shirt hugging your shoulders, beaded with sweat
on the day that i become so forgetful
that all of this melts away
i will burn all the calanders that counted the years down
to such a worthless day
as we walked across the parking lot toward the motel office
we were walking with a ?benediction? on us
light was everywhere, the building stood against the sky
like a monument to desperation 2 floors high
a mile and a half from the river
we went back to the car to get our overnight bags
sunset spilling through your earrings, all over your body
when we shut the motel door behind us, we knew we'd hit the motherlode
on the day that i forget you, i hope my heart explodes
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the land's opening up like a blanket,
and the dandelions spread themselves thickly out
along the fields, which are, evidently, endless;
and we are hotly in love with one another.
we've got an unquenchable thirst in our throats.
we are, for some reason, all the time, bleeding,
and we are friendless.
and we love these dogs that roll on the lawns here in galesburg --
because they seem to know something nobody else knows.
it is written in the smiles on their faces,
and it rings in their high young voices
we are burning up all of our choices up here
where the tall grass grows, up here in galesburg.
the sky's opening up like an old wound,
and the rain on our bodies is warm tonight
and the ground underneath us shakes in the cracking thunder.
we can taste fresh blood in our mouths again:
there is no chance of getting enough of it,
and we tally up all our possessions, we're going under.
but we love these dogs that loll in the rain here in galesburg
as the new season rocks them in its terrible arms.
yeah they howl as though the world were ending,
and we are watching the sky unwinding
and some of our promises were binding up here where our dreams take form
up here in galesburg
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way up north
down the road a little
back in new england
right here in the middle
and all the way out west
we had our ears to the ground
all of our dreams resting in the same spot
listening for the old sound
it was ringing as clear as crystal
it was shining as bright as gold
grain gathering on the stone floor
and we were spring-heeled and we were real cold
all summer long
deep into autumn
in a high room
and down here in the bottom
down here in the bottom
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sun twinkling on the river this evening
i tasted chocolate on my tongue
darkness climbing up the ladders to the sky
rung by agonizing rung
i heard firecrackers popping next door
wondered what it is i bargained for
when i lay quiet on the floor and you were knocking
let me be your witness
let me walk out on the edge
the sun refused to shine on my backyard today
darkness climbing up the house
coming through the window ledge
i saw the firecrackers bursting on the sidewalk
i heard you talking your baby talk
i saw the bright lights again and
i felt the shock when you were knocking
. . .
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lying in the hot sun today
watching the clouds run away
thought a little while about you
the sky was a petrifying blue
and while the geese flew past
for no reason at all
i let the sky fall
this is an empty country, and i am the king
and i should not be allowed to touch anything
i picked myself up off the ground
shook the grass from my hair and i
walked around
felt the warm sun in my eye
strangers were passing by
i shinnied up the black walnut tree
let the hard blue sky fall right through me
and i saw the sad young cardinals, trying to sing
and i should not be allowed to touch anything
. . .
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when you were nineteen i first laid eyes on you
the small stream that ran through the center of town
carried your name to me
your hair was dark and your eyes were a frosty blue
and then they put me in jail 'til you were twenty-three
when you were twenty-four we took to drinking and dancing
we boxed with our shadows like a couple of kangaroos
and then we went down to chechnya for the weekend
your eyes were glacial and your promises all rang true
and things are happening here while we sleep
i can feel it in my boiling brain
and i am dreaming in blood-red color
when i see the stolypin car riding through the light rain
they'll have to carry me out on my back
they'll have to tear me to pieces all right
we are warm in our hidden room down here
we've got stars in our eyes tonight
. . .
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seeds came in the mail today from holland
and the language on the package was wonderful and strange
all sorts of flowers that grow up from the earth
in goodly colors gloriously arranged
i circled the house and i scattered them around
let the water sink down into the soil
stared a long time at the residue
blood, milk and oil
god the humidity is something
our shirts are soaked clean through
the house is throbbing and the heat keeps coming
and i keep looking at you
and then you're singing in dutch to me
and i recognize the song
it seems so old and so fragile
and i haven't heard it in so long
we may throw the windows open later
but we are not as far west as you suppose we are
hot wind coming off the water
the sky gone crazy with stars
while we stay here we imagine we're alive
we see shadows on the walls
there's something waiting for us in the hot, wet air
sweat, water and alcohol
just the old blood
rising up through the wooden floor again
just the old love
asking for more again
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rain all burned away
the horseflies are an irridescent green
plums boiled down to pulp
drying on a screen
bright red air inside the house here
i can barely draw breath
dark blue shapes popped behind my eyelids
i am not afraid of death
and on the television
black and white footage of the young Cassius clay
my god, my god, my god
he was something
fists flashing as he comes toward the screen
sailing headlong into nothing
and disappearing
reappearing
out there in the clearing
floating down the slight breeze
that plays along the edge of the leaves
it's you.
it's you.
it's you
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meanwhile out where nothing starts
out where the rail yard ends
the sun up above is trying to kill himself
we were watching the skies again
why do we come down to brownsville
year after year after year
this was the question we never even posed
ringing like a siren in our ears
down on the mexican border
in the unfathomable heat
with our shirts tied around our waists
and the world at our feet
we looked at one another's bodies
figured we looked all right
ready to die if we had to
watching the skies all night
and i was sure my heart would break
when the sun sank down into california
i felt your breath on my neck, it was hot and good and pure
and i wanted to warn you
and it's all coming apart again
it's all coming apart again
it's all coming apart again
it's all coming apart again
. . .
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