top view of valley near body of water

Stranger Sounds

All these stranger sounds you made
Upon the bed where you have paid
The only price in life that is worth paying...
Or so the corner boys and carnival barkers are saying....

You walk across the dusty room
Watch the dust moats dance in the gloom
Of the neon light outside of your window...
Since when did you take anything on their say so?...

I retreat to the blackness of your mouth
Cavern that promises and strange sounds fall out 
Of, as your lips softly declare nothing is worth saving...
Not even you and I: our love is aging...

And the flowers are no good unless they are a-dying
And your words are no good because they are a-lying
That you ever cared

You say I make these stranger sounds
They escape between the gasps and growls
Of someone who needs a little more shelter...
From you and others who refused to help her...

The baker and the butcher sigh
You aren't from here and then you cry
Who is even keeping this gate, it is not Eden?
Who is holding onto these keys, why? They cannot eat 'em...

Get outta town, hop on a train
Start up the engine, don't mind the rain
They never see the storms as they are forming....
They never see the damage they are causing...

And the flowers are no good unless they are a-dying
And the words are no good, they are just a-lying
That you ever shared
Worth the sharing

The road it curls around a hill, 
Disappears, appears at will
It holds you when it wants to, releases only when it's ready...
Leaves you thinking about Castaic as you walk down Eddy..

The blackness of that night in March, deep in the lair of perfect past,
Holds you in its jaws, you cannot fight it....
Has you by the neck as you embrace it...

The space is empty, paw prints in the mud
The big cat smiles tears out your heart
And you sacrifice yourself to a greater purpose:
You pour yourself a drink, you are a little nervous...

Because the flowers are no good unless they are a-dying...
And the words are no good, they are just a-lying
That you ever intended to make it with me

A slice of pie, a cool cup of sweet tea
My guitar balanced on your knee
Who could have ever guessed that was perfection?
Who could have ever known that was life not a vacation?

The neck is bent, the wood is smashed
I might forgive but who has time for that
When the world is sighing sickly, barely turning,
Neon lights a day that's forever dawning...
I tell you I need the night, but am resigned to mourning....

You might call me from jail, the hills of Duluth
As you rail another line of coke
My hope is all a fadin'
As you fry your bacon...
You tell me you love animals
Now who is fakin'?

And the flowers that are a dying
And the roads and mountain lions
And the mountains and the lakes
That have dried up they can't take
Any more away
I haven't lost anyhow
Any way....

Stranger sounds that have been made
Stranger tales have been laid
To bed, they are no sooner birthed 
Then they are dying.
They burst into the daylight:
Freedom they are cryin'.

Stranger run outta town
Stranger things they have been found
Slung in trees, written onto boulders
Carved into desk tops
Saying 'hold on, darling, but not on to us'...

Stranger than you, stranger is me, 
I am that hitch-hiker that you see
And shudder, feeling something 
Is off, a little wierder,
Like the grave gave up a citizen
Of the world that's under,
Or forced something uncanny from it's center.

And the flowers they are a dying
And the words they are a lying
That you ever cared
About any of it
At least not today.....


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