1. |
Two-Fifty
03:30
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All hail an imminent collapse. You can fumble for your maps, but we’re exhausted by the facts. We still believe old Henry’s dream: An assembly line, a team; the firebrand, the steam. Who believes it more than we?
Pull the switch, and find the fireman! We need more than funds — we need a plan, a solution; we need efficiency.
We all are fractured factory lives, once fi lled with piss and drive, now old bees without a hive. How do we survive? There isn’t room for me or you.
They just don’t need us like they did when it was new. Well, it’s a life of shared commitments, a life of tightening the belt and moving on. Let’s move forward, Alan! Let’s move on
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2. |
The Score
02:58
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You’ve got the pen, and we’ve done the typing. Why can’t you get us home for good? Let’s put it in writing! On and on, we argue so; the sirens blare and the whistles blow till we cannot hear anymore. This is the score.
We’ve armed a bear — why are we bullfighting? Why do we prance our little flag around as if he’s not biting? On and on: We’ve bled so long, now the waters rise and our limbs are gone, and we cannot swim anymore. This is the score.
Now on the chase, our colors are falling; two nations removed from where the resistance is calling... On and on, we’re fractured now. The families shake, those children howling on and on, no end in sight. No drawdown. No light for any company to see. This is the score.
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3. |
Sing Again
02:31
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It was not tricky to enjoy... A cigarette in hand was the key to understanding. To seek out and to destroy the mind less oversights,
the string of faithless nights, we’d sing again. We’d sing together with
quiet eyes. I’d lower my chin to my chest. I thought that would be
best.
But now, the pounding of the bricks: Bundles of cells dividing, and South Dakota driving the very darkest dirty tricks. If we still cared at all, we’d send a battle call and sing again. We’d sing together with fiery eyes, our anger alive in our chests. No, this is not a test: Let’s sing again, sing together without disguise; let’s raise up a song in unrest. I think that would be best.
Here’s the poison. You will hear the noises; you will feel the breaking. It’s all yours for the taking.
A life packed full of mindless joy: It is not easy to enjoy.
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4. |
A Bird Is a Song
03:08
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Colorado, can you hear me? Are you listening? Do you even care?
Are you even there?
The concrete canopy, mountains of symmetry; the city policy, the city
air. The boroughs I have seen seem so unfair, as do the feathers on
the sidewalks I find there.
I do not need to speak, but I want to listen to the tiniest of flights and
their transmissions. The words tied to their wings are the words I’m
going to sing. A noise, small and strong: A bird is a song.
Torch the sails, and set fire to our deals: My heaven is here, my
heaven is here. Who would need escape, who would seek salvation
from a place so bright and clear?
I do not need to see, but I need a vision. I want seamless operation
upon ignition. The fuel that I salt away will keep us through the darkest of days; will keep us well through winters long, and when springtime starts her broadcast, the birds are our song.
Keep your feathers clean and dry.
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5. |
Geometry &C
03:07
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It used to bother me, all these shapes I can’t describe; how we all fit
toget her like wordless verse, singing da de dum dum, da de dum dum
da de dum. I was there. I saw you searching the corners for a light,
but it’s not there. It was never there, your files and books are void of
air, and your heart fails your mind.
This is geometry, this is the life of you and I; how we pull for a second
together, and down, we’re singing da de dum dum, da de dum dum
da de dum. It’s a call, it’s a connection we make to find a light, and
it’s brighter than we remember it being the last time we
tried... How we tried.
You don’t need to speak just now; you should keep it down and let
that ticker pound.
Let your heart keep the time; the loudest part is in control. Let your
heart keep the time, and the hardest part is letting go. Let your heart
keep the time
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6. |
Everyone Needs A Home
03:05
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This device in my hand does not understand how I need to talk with
you, how I need you now. Even the mobilest phone will leave you
exactly alone when the sea decides to commandeer the land.
Everyone needs a home,everybody needs a place to go; a sympathetic ear when you’re on hold. Every girl needs a roof and a bed and a bright, bright light that she can turn off at night and fall asleep with the love of her life.
A catastrophic, lonely collapse; a conspiracy of maps; sweet Louise, two days from side to side: Daunting, dear, it’s true, but this flood will not keep me from you. Pull my picture from your wallet now and sing!
Well, everyone needs a home, everybody needs a place to go; a FEMA trailer does not ease the blow, oh, no. Every boy needs a roof and a bed and a bright, bright light that he can turn off at night and fall asleep with the love of his life.
Everyone needs a home, everybody needs a place to go; a sympathetic voice when you feel alone. All I need is a roof and a bed and a bright, bright light that I can turn off at night and fall asleep with the love of my life. I’ll fall asleep with the love of my life.
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7. |
Everybody On
03:16
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A chance to breathe... Everyone breathe; the news is hard, the days
are l ong, and still we breathe.
Everybody on the border towns, your radios, your northern sounds: Fly your banners from the line, a thousand miles long. It is uneasy here, but we need everybody on.
A band of thieves has ruined the bar. You, crooked barrister, arranged the calls — your life of service is worthless, if you’ve ever served at all. Raise up now your lone star, we’ll watch the pieces fall.
Everybody on the boundary wires, your telephones, your signal fires: Keep your balance on the line, a thousand miles long. It is not easy here, but we need everybody on board now, don’t fall away! There is
no crime if you say what you mean to say!
Everybody on the border ties, your mission bells, your desert skies: Draw your power from the line, a thousand miles long. It is uneasy here, but we need everybody on.
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8. |
Our Plans, Collapsing
03:55
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Our plans, collapsing: Our lives fall apart today, and we cannot find the words to make it hopeful. Our understanding brings no solace or repair, and a storm now gathers hard above our heads as we fade to sleep in newly single beds.
You cannot be my inspiration and I will not be your light. I tried to give you everything. You need to know I live to hold on, to hold on.
If I dreamt a bee sting, when I carved a gaping wound, you made for me a sling and tied it, truly. You understood me, and that clearly makes it hard when I give myself to someone else’s home. You lived with me and now you live alone
.
These hands of ours, they were a contract, those pinholes were our sky. There is no easy way from here to there; there is no kind consideration in falling out of love, but bless us both for trying to be there. So hold on, hold on.
Stories in stories, lines between lines; photos, postcards, and
handwritten asides.We are stories in stories in stories
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9. |
Archer v. Light
03:06
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You are ‘Sir’. You’re a senator, and Senator, you were right. It’s just a law, not the Word, not the Law. I’m learning how to speak again. These words are only structures when you choose to frame them in, and obviously, the framers would agree. You own a chair, and you are not there, you noble senator.
Oh, dear Sir, I’m a librarian, and while I do not know of law, I know the things that make my stomach pitch and yaw. If I were gavaged on hunger strike, wrongly fired upon or sullied blindly by dogs I’d hate us too, and that’s why I’ve cornered you, Roman Senator. Can you still hear with all the marks on your ears?
Face me now — I want to see you break it down! I want to feel our stars colliding, I want to see the sweat pour from your brow. I’ll let it go, you’re gonna see me lose control. We do not fight for isolation, have you seen the injuries? I want to see your heart of gold again, your heart of gold. We are kind, do you remember that? I want to see your pro-life bear no exception, you Grand Old Senator.
Oh, dear Sir, I’m a librarian, and I am not always right, but ours is the story of the archer and the light.
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10. |
St. Modesto
04:27
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Saint Modesto, you were the ground line humming. You were the
thread of fire upon this night. You could feel the living — you staggered and blew your money, a summery tailwind there upon our heels, me and you.
All down the valley, you’d drag me along for measure. The boredom was deafening at any speed. Still, I could hear your breathing. You were as loud as the engine’s gravel, winding through Altamont, towards the sea, you and me.
If you’re the one who can save this broken wreck then this is the end —
we’ll be through soon, I suspect. Don’t argue, these are facts.
San Francisco, eighty and four miles later: We were the vapor trails among the hills; and there above us an antenna of God, a broadcast, the table of contents right down through the trees. We were the pixels on the fallen leaves. What do we do?
Are you the one who can save this gory mess? I know you’re a friend. You’ve been right and true, I guess.
I know you’d take one on the chin, you’d take it in the teeth for me. We are a team, but we are untied. I’m sinking with the weight of all the things I cannot do, but when I’m losing it, I know you’re losing it
too.
Saint Modesto, you were the guitar I’m strumming. You were the
power cord that made the light.
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11. |
It's Unsustainable
05:55
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I was busy, I was occupied. I was burning the fields. A wind of black was blowing over me, and when the cilia revealed all the ash lining my lungs, I heard a song, I heard a whispering. I gave my torch to the flame. I counted out the numbers silently, a list of places and names that I’d best get back to, at least, were I soon to find leave or release. To sing again, now and then; now, at least.
On to death, and on to dignity; on to flowering the grave. On to faith, and on to piety, on to sending away all the tools our dynasty yields: All these papers and axles and wheels. On to quiet, on to silence, on
to still.
It’s not unsustainable, so don’t even try to explain me away. We can make it, love — we can bend at the knees, we can fall and still we can recover. It’s not unsustainable, don’t say it; it’s not unsustainable.
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12. |
Holes
02:40
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There’s a hole in your voice and you say it’s a choice, but I don’t understand.
There’s a tear in the wind from the prick of a pin, and it’s set to expand, and strength is hard to find.
There’s a gash in your words but your office prefers that we don’t understand.
And as gravity fails we will hang with our receipts for our flags in our hands, our things rising fierce from our lands.
Strength is hard to find, but when your post and guard resign we will seal all your little holes.
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Chris Walla Seattle, Washington
i was in death cab for cutie for seventeen years which is why stevie nicks wrote edge of seventeen about me. i write songs and produce records
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