Lyrics

IOWA

No moon. Midnight. Iowa is nothing but the darkness and the interstate. Driving slower than you often do. There’s nobody at home waiting up for you.

Just for a minute let yourself feel small. Just for a minute bear the weight of it all. Face down the limit of your time and your gift. Face down your fear of your finiteness. On a night like this. On a night like this.

Weak pulse. Peeling skin. Lips that once were singing now are chapped and caving in. Hours from the daylight. Miles from the well. Finally ready with confession; no one left to tell.

Just for a minute let yourself feel small. Just for a minute bear the weight of it all. Face down the limit of your time and your gift. Face down your fear of your finiteness. On a night like this. On a night like this.

WILD GEESE

What you mean when you say that there’s nothing wrong. With that look in your eye like there’s no one home. I’m just trying to be a good friend to you, trying to be your listening ear. Don’t you try to get carried away; there’s a difference here.

Fatal flaws and imperfections. Wild geese with bad directions. What you’ve done despite intentions, baby. You don’t really seem to know but I know it’s time. It’s time.

It’s time to start drawing some lines. Time to start drawing some lines.

You can leave. It’s your right. It’s your freedom. But what you’re chasing out there will never be enough. I know that you see it–I don’t have to say it– but look where you are. Are the years of running all the pain coming just to get this far.

Broken wires and failed connections. Wild geese with bad directions. Just some cruel misplaced affection, baby. You don’t really seem to know but I know it’s time. It’s time.

It’s time to start drawing some lines. Time to start drawing some lines. Time to start drawing some lines. Time to start drawing some lines.

Before it’s too late. Before it’s a mistake. Before the regret comes rushing in. Make up your mind. I know you know what’s right. I know you can choose.

I can’t tell you what to do.

I’m just trying to be a good friend to you. I’m just trying to be a good friend to you. Before you get carried away. I’m just trying to be a good friend to you. Before you get carried away.

It’s time to start drawing some lines. Time to start drawing some lines. Time to start drawing some lines. Time to start drawing some lines.

Oh, some lines. Oh, some lines. Oh, some lines. Oh.

SO CERTAIN

I was tending a garden I was told would be everbearing. So certain, so certain the soil was good. And I was so full of love, I was sure I could pour it out forever and always have more to give.

Now I know, now I know what it means to be empty completely.

And I was finally ready to set myself aside and make my light an offering how I always thought I would someday. Foolishly thinking I would find within you a mirror and not a black hole, inescapable, undetectable until it’s too late.

Now I know, now I know what it means to be empty completely.

There are things you only learn by getting dirt under your nails. There are ships that sink in harbor no matter how you turn the sails. You can write your plans in stone, but there are stones that turn to sand. Any roots that you put down are at the mercy of the land.

But I was so certain. So certain, so certain the soil was good. So certain, so certain the soil was good.

HEADLAMP

AH.

There’s a bench outside the city garage in a patch of daylilies and landscape rocks, somewhat out of place among the road salt stores and muni trucks, where I remember holding you, knowing not what else to do, as your composure finally flew out the window.

“Everything’ll be fine,” I said, though I carried no authority on the facts at hand. I wanted to patch you up like a torn up sleeve, but all I did was leave you worse than I found you.

I had never used the word “cerulean.” Blue was blue enough. But then I felt compelled to be precise, encountering your gentle eyes. The universes each contained! The subtle swirl of tempered pain! The distant sound of falling rain.

“Everything’ll be fine,” I said, though I’m a coward as a lover and a selfish friend. I wanted to give you all but the things you need, and all I did was leave you worse than I found you.

I wouldn’t blame you if you threw away the gift I gave you. I wouldn’t blame you if you never even opened it up. A hasty thrown-together olive branch apology. A cheap token of undying love. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn the damn thing was defective, and we’re both out here walking separately alone in the dark.  I got a conscience to get home to and swiftly murder. You got a dog to let out. You got a crooked row of stitches that I thought would do the trick. You got a million little misassembled pieces I thought would stay glued. I got a halo for my half measures and clean hands. You got a headlamp that’ll die on you. What a trade we have made! What a trade we have made. I’m sorry.

“Everything’ll be fine,” I said, not knowing at all what I was talking about.

E HENNEPIN

So we meet again, Highway Hennepin. Could you try to slow me down with something more profound than red lights and sirens flipping on? Those sirens flipping on. I could have made it home if I’d been traveling alone. But someone threw her weight, and our tire hit the grate, and our thrilling chase was over at the curb. It was over at the curb.

But let me tell you, son: I should have run.

So we meet again, January Friend. They say it’s gonna be an early thaw this spring, but I have only known you frozen to the core. And what’s more, things are different than before. Atmospheric shifts and continental drifts tow us to our places on the globe. New places on the globe.

But let me make it clear: I am leaving here of my own accord.

Woah! So we meet again. So we meet again. So we meet again. So we meet again.

 

 

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