Soon. Listen, I've been drinking The world's just bones. All lit up and sick of fighting I've seen it all. I've seen it all. Please remove your spurs. I think about you often, off in the desert, So now I live well. I live in the mine. I was born in the North, but my father's from the South. You were on the side of good. The tide comes in and the tide goes out again. A ransom note written on the night sky above And speaking of my mind (the Sunflower), I was ripped on dope. You were a ray of sunshine. Oh world! You fucking explosion that turns us around! You traveled light (all night, every night), I've seen it all. I've seen it all. I've seen it all. Free and easy. Gentle. Gentle. Soon. Soon.
Soon.
as our house lies in ruin.
I don't know what I'm doing
alone in the dark
at the park or at the pier,
watching ships disappear in the rain.
The world is black stones dressed up in the rain
with no place to go but home-
just like Nance.
On a night like this, why, she's pro-stars, pro-sky.
beneath the diseased lighting of the discotheque at night.
It don't mean a thing. It never means a thing.
It don't mean a thing. It never means a thing.
It's got that swing.
Magnolia's a girl. Her heart's made of wood.
As apocalypses go, that's pretty good.
Sha-la-la, wouldn't you say?
Come to think of it, remove your antlers.
Haven't seen you for ages.
I still fly into rages at the mention of your name,
Christine White.
laughing your head off in the Forest of the Night.
Say a prayer for the light.
I'm still slinging mud at the towers all the time.
I took a walk
and threw up in an English Garden.
Love is a political beast with jaws for a mouth. I don't care!
You're upset- and have every right to be.
Regretfully, you decline.
Every night was a waste of time.
Every night. Every night. Every night.
I was inside of the sea's guts,
a crumbling beauty trapped in a river of ice.
A crumbling beauty trapped in Paradise,
oh yes, it was Paradise!
I suppose this is the kind of thing we see every day.
The tide comes in. The tide goes away.
Oh, the tide comes in. Yeah, the tide. Yes, the tide.
reminds me what-in-particular about this wine I love.
Like a punctured beast, better-off dead,
compliments going to my head:
La-da-da, la-da-da!
and speaking of a world turning sour on you,
I was twenty years old in 1992.
I was bathed in golden sunlight, alright?
I was a hopeless romantic. You were swine.
You've got to spend money to make money.
You've got to stop calling me "honey".
The searchlight slumps over, so sick of the night,
and the kids on the boats, busted in the shipyard
going down, down, down, down, down, down, down.
to arrive at the conclusion
of the world's inutterable secret,
and you shut your mouth.
The wind through the trees makes you mental for me.
Nancy, in a state of crisis, on a cloud.
(It's better to create than destroy what's unnecessary)
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Destroyer: Bay Of Pigs
Labels: Destroyer
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