Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Temporary Loss of the Light

I spent three long weeks planning
fanning out the cards for my life.
Thought i'd shaken the feeling
of the temporary loss of the light

And I smiled and I joked and poked
fun at the way things might have been,
Only to see the blood rush from me
as she sadly but slowly lost her grin.

Now it's six long days later and
I'm richer than I'd really hoped to be
spent my hours resting in a setting
that makes my soul yearn to sing.

Hey mister, where did you find the light
and hey sister, you surely are a sight
But whoa, listen, I'm not so sure that this is just alright.

Just eight short hours ago I found
the four laws that I think I should have known,
and I wrote them down on paper
just to savor that I'm really not alone.

There's existence of suffering
and no smothering can make it disappear.
The cause is overwhelming and the
ignorance can make us live in fear.

And there's a path to cessation that's
elation when you surely see the light.
An illuminated pathway eight-steps
long that sure feels like it's right.

Hey mister, where did you find the light
and hey sister, you surely are a sight
But whoa, listen, I'm not so sure that this is just alright.

I'm a hungry raven who's just yearning
to pick up the scraps of my soul.
I'm a strong and driven hero
with zero care that I am growing old.

Or a single thick blade of grass that's crass
but can waver in the wind.
I'm a shimmering blade who was made to save
but whose strength will not rescind.

Well in the days before us I will
try my best to manifest no sins;
and be a man with judgment who does not judge
because judgment never wins.

Hey mister, where did you find the light
and hey sister, you surely are a sight
But whoa, listen, I'm not so sure that this is just alright.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Mrs. Potter's Lullaby by Counting Crows

Well I woke up in mid afternoon cause that's when it all hurts the most
I dream I never know anyone at the party and I'm always the host
If dreams are like movies then memories are films about ghosts
You can never escape, you can only move south down the coast
Well I am an idiot walking a tightrope of fortune and fame
I am an acrobat swinging trapezes through circles of flame
If you've never stared off into the distance then your life is a shame
And though I'll never forget your face sometimes
I can't remember my name

Hey, Mrs. Potter, don't cry
Hey, Mrs. Potter, I know why
But, hey, Mrs. Potter, won't you talk to me
Well there's a piece of Maria in every song that I sing
And the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings
And there is always one last light to turn out and one last bell to ring
And the last one out of the circus has to lock up everything
Or the elephants will get out and forget to remember what you said
Oh and the ghosts of the tilt-o-whirl will linger inside of your head
Oh and the Ferris wheel junkies will spin there forever instead
When I see you, a blanket of stars covers me in my bed
Hey, Mrs. Potter, don't go, I said
Hey, Mrs. Potter, I don't know, but
Hey, Mrs. Potter, won't you talk to me
Well all the blue light reflections that color my mind when I sleep
And the lovesick rejections that accompany the company I keep
All the razor perceptions that cut just a little too deep
Hey, I can bleed as well as anyone but I need someone to help me sleep
So I throw my hand into the air and it swims in the beams
It's just a brief interruption of the swirling dust sparkle jet stream
Well I know I don't know you and you're probably not what you seem
Aw, but I'd sure like to find out
So why don't you climb down off that movie screen
Hey, Mrs. Potter, don't turn
Hey, Mrs. Potter, I burn for you
Hey, Mrs. Potter, won't you talk to me
When the last king of Hollywood shatters his glass on the floor
And orders another
Well, I wonder what he did that for
That's when I know that I have to get out cause I have been there before
So I gave up my seat at the bar and I head for the door. Yeah.
We drove out to the desert just to lie down beneath this bowl of stars
We stand up in the Palace, like it's the last of the great pioneer town bars
Aw, we shout out these songs against the clang of electric guitars
Well, you can see a million miles tonight
But you can't get very far
Aw, you can see a million miles tonight
But you can't get very far
Hey, Mrs. Potter, I won't touch and
Hey, Mrs. Potter, it's not much but
Hey, Mrs. Potter, won't you talk to me [3X]

http://www.geffen.com/artist/player/default.aspx/mid/2224/aid/83