From Heart Beats Pacific
Been living under frozen sky, but we’ve all got ways that we get by. You changed your name, the one you had it didn’t fit right. And I know you’d dream of something else if you could sleep nights. I know, so tonight I’ll stay here with you. There’s nothing else I’d rather do. We’ll look for reasons why we’re here, we’ll blame the season for this fear. I’ll say that everything’ll work out like I know what I’m talking about. But all this snow keeps piling up, we dig it’s never deep enough. Just need a change in atmosphere. It’s like winter’s earlier each year. Sidewalks across this town are icing up, we’re sliding down. Look for a place to drown, find a bar a block away. You’re just a kid bruising up. If I could tell you how many times you gotta fall before you break through I would. Cold drinks and snow falls, I’ll pick up your phone calls. I get too wrapped up in my own shit. We order one more round and sit. And I know when you’re living under sheets of snow it can look like the world’s gone black but remember that the sun comes back – at least they say it does.
They say the day is warming up and when it does I’m going outside. And even though the snow still coats the ground I see there’s spring in my sky. You know I lost my way, I found it. I’m done living like a loaded gun. I’m walking south of Belmont like a kid who’s never seen the sun. And I’ve been locked up forever, now the winter of our discontent is gone. I’ve been reset, and you know I bet our best days haven’t happened yet. ‘Cuz it’s thawing out here in the Midwest. We walk the shoreline, rivers high; think we could ride it out to sea. Keep rising up until we hit the crest, but you never know how your days will be so I’m keeping this moment here with me and you are wading through, you’re smiling now, we made it intact. And even though I know I’m late for work I don’t think I’m not going back. One perfect day, forget the other ones.
A red line month in a stall out year, but then it crashed somehow and we landed here. In your doorway on a fall day, I try and salvage what I can. Say that if I could hit stop I’d rewind tonight. But then I guess some things are just black or white in your eyes. So goodbye never had a chance I realize. It’s been sparks in gasoline and we got lit up, ignite. I was part way through a dream when it all blew up tonight. So so long. Alone and halfway gone. I try and find my way but I get lost in thought on neon streets in parking lots. A long walk where I belong. I try and find my way but I get lost in thought on neon streets in parking lots (tonight). Up there’s where they say heaven lies. Know it’s just black clouds in a dirty sky. I’d call you but it’s risky because I make no sense on whiskey. With all my jumbled thoughts strewn across the floor, I know they all read wrong so I write some more. Some failed tries, my pen dies. All a waste of time I realize. I guess everything falls apart. Loose lips sink ships and hopeful hearts. Tonight I’ll sit here soaking. Tomorrow morning I’ll start drying out.
Where’s the sun? And when did our lives become stuck in this fucked up place, in this routine? Vampire jobs to TV screen. Show me what we missed, ‘cause we should be more along than this. If we ever had a path then we lost it. Wake up drained and exhausted. We don’t fight, we just talk real loud. Then we turn our backs. We’re kinda like this town. Snake bit. I don’t know why we keep rolling twos, but at the end of day it’s just background noise, it’s not me and you. So if you wanna stay up all night we can hit the record shops or just stay in bed drinking Spanish Reds, waiting for the rain to stop. It’s passing through, and you know that you are looking like an angel now. I watch you fall asleep on a dead end street and the world is right somehow. Here’s the spring, I wanna know everything. All of your washed up dreams, and where you been. Northwest town you grew up in. Everything you did. Wish I coulda met you as a kid. Back when we had a path, but we lost it. Wake up drained and exhausted. And if we fall apart, and if we lose the day, and if we hit the edge of the map drop off and never find our way. If we never win, if we take all our swings and miss, I can live with that, die happy, know there’s no one else I’d rather lose it with.
We used to walk there all the time. Up by the railway line. I try to go there but it’s hard. End up in my backyard. I’m here alone with this guitar, the paint is peeling off and I see every scar. Got half a song I wrote for you and I got half a bottle left to get me through. Been waking up in daydreams. Waking up to the fact that I’m still here and I know you won’t be. I’m heading for another lonely year. Most nights you’ll find me underneath an empty Midwest sky, half drunk and fading where I’m drinking with your ghost and I’m watching planes go by. And nothing changes but the time. Get stuck on the same few lines. I could just write how it went, but that’s not how this one ends. And (I’m) finding out I don’t do very well alone, but I know that you’re not coming home.
Blow the dust and try to settle in. Know it’s not like anywhere I’ve been. Pacing around, from the wall to the door, then stand still. I walk out into the city sound, under sun and over burning ground. Fall in a crowd, try to find my way out if I could. And everything I know is everything I knew. It’s mixing up, it’s hard get to get a message through. Get lost in alleyways and feeling my new bruise and losing time up here, apartment twenty two. I paint white walls, but chips keep falling. Every box points up, I’m down here stalling. At the window try and take this all in but nothing is clear, the view from here’s kinda a blur. The days I’m spending by myself, and the nights are that and nothing else. Sit on the bank, watch the boats, hear the crowd and sit still. Now the crowd has started clearing out. Stumble home along their city route. Hours have passed as I make my way back up the hill. Traffic stalling under city sky. A mass of people trying to all slip by between the stands and all the building signs. But up above it’s started coming clear and I remember what I’m doing here. I take a step into the crowd on Trier and I disappear.
At the bus stop we’re the pawns and we just do what we’re told. But on your rooftop we’re the kings and we look down on this whole town. You know it looks a lot like last year. Spend our time in just one place. If I wrote the story of my life here, a couple things that I’d erase. Don’t you ever want to go? Wait for some kind of sign that shows us where to go tonight. Underneath the northern lights. Up here like I can finally see. I look past the buildings, all these trees that line a dead end street. Get all the way to New Orleans tonight. And when the fog sets, it’s a softer side of urban decay. We got no nets. I watch a can roll down, I hear it hit the driveway. Anchorless, like a novel writ by Steinbeck. We’re in a Midwest dust bowl. When you count the days ‘til your next paycheck, it’s a world of mice and men. On the edge, the world seems to stop. I can feel the wind and my stomach drop. If we’re stuck and if we never leave, we’ve still got moments here like these. Lying on our backs, counting stars in the summer night. Above the sidewalk cracks, getting bathed in the billboard light.
Move back home. If there’s one thing that I know, it’s that this life can get fucked when you count on fate and good luck to get you through it. Whiskey spills get soaked in medical bills. A brand new start or dead end? I guess that’ll mostly depend on your reaction. So when I see you now, will you wrap your arms around me? Say I’ve changed, you held your breath and nothing’s been right since I left? Or did you forget my name? And we’ll just stand around in silence ‘til you sigh and walk away, and say I’m done with your bullshit? Leave this nowhere town. I fall asleep and dream of the freeway. Roll my window down. I exhale the dust and I breathe the new day. You turn to me and shout “we’re on our way and it’s never too late.” Go miles beyond old doubt and then we laugh it up ‘cause we know we’ll make it out (but then I cough awake, know I almost made it out). Cardboard throne. Everything that I own fits in the back of my car. Some old photographs, my guitar. A kind of freedom. Brakes all shot, and yeah it’s rusted in spots. it’s seen some miles but I bet it’s still got some life in it yet. I keep the tank full. And I can see in morning sun I don’t know what I’m running from. But I know there’s rabbit in my blood, was a couple drops and it turned to flood. Wander off of this well worn track. Shake the world and send postcards back. Light a fire, you know where I’m at? I’m just standing still.
She rubbed her eyes and faked a smile for me and said, “it’s like I never go to sleep I just lay in bed. No dreams, it keeps me up.” In an airport bar at midnight. Wait for our plane to come. Wait until we see this moonlight turn into the morning sun. All wet as we hit the ground and we find ourselves on Glendale. Hard rain is pouring down, but if we’re fast we’ll catch the light rail. Gaining speed and with every turn we hold our breath and we never learn our left from right and our right from wrong. I wonder if they’ll notice that we’re gone? As we ride on out past the county line, we got this whole night, no stop lights to slow us down. We can leave it all behind. And though old days might never slip away and lines on my face might not fade, I won’t look back as we make this getaway. Train light, it keeps me up. I keep on staring out this window. Rain storm is drying out and showing cracks across the pavement here, under setting sun. We gaze out with a clearer view and we look for signs in nothing. Clouds show a silver moon. Now I know that that means something. We don’t owe you a goddamn thing. What you got is all you’re getting, no more from me. I’m done watching the clock inside tick away every second ‘til I bleed dry. We’ll get by. We don’t owe a god damn thing. What you got is all you get, no more from me. We’re miles away from all that now, from the early graves, the poison ground. We fly out past Division Street and I see that you finally fell asleep. Think we just hit our stop.
I’m know that I just fucked up everything, and I know that nights like these might leave a scar. I gave up every god damn thing for you, and now I’m stuck here in the backseat of my car. But you know sometimes when I’m drunk on wine, think I could change. But the morning kills the hopes, and hills turn mountain range. Then this world works like a machine. It keeps smashing my dreams, so I stay close to myself ’cause when you live in hell you know things never work out. I get consumed by the doubt. I’m not surprised at the way it ended up today. Say what’s the point as you look down and close your eyes. There’s a million ways that we never tried. See all my friends already gone, but you’re still here. Then you close the door, watch you mouth goodbye. When I find my keys I’m eastbound walking home. I curse the sky and kick these cobble stones. I gave you every goddamn thing I’ve got, but if you add it up I guess it’s not a lot. Dark eyes unfocused on the light. Gonna be another lonely night. I don’t have time for intervention. I hear almost every word you say, we’re just getting by in different ways. I don’t have time for intervention. It took me years to build this wall, all brick by brick, just let me fall. I don’t have time for intervention. I know exactly what I need – a ride home and a couple days of sleep. I don’t have the time for intervention.
If I’ve had better days then they’re hard to remember. I was stuck in a bender before we met, there wasn’t anything. But I’ve been on a high since the moment I saw you, and there’s nothing I won’t do for you now because you’re everything. And (but) as we’re walking back through the northeast streets and we pass the neon signs, I see the stars explode and I start to float when you put your hand in mine. And I won’t let go, this sky can tumble down. Earthquake can cut the ground, it won’t shake us, hold on tight. Blue eyes and moon glow, this world can disappear. It’s just you and me my dear, no distractions, no red lights. I know I have my days when I get real dramatic. I get lost in the static and when you talk I don’t hear anything. And I know that there’ll be times when we’re missing the West Coast and remembering old ghosts we left behind before Division Street. And when the morning sun is missing, my heart beats pacific.