Song for Lyda
[v.1]
saying you're fine doesn't make it true,
and when you feel like you're dying in the sun
or getting swept away into a lonely ocean of white noise,
it's okay to turn off the radio
to mute the TV and let the blades of the ceiling fan wind down for a little.
you and the silence, soft and shadowed
let it rest inside your silhouette
cos the fight's not over, not yet.
[pre-ch.]
let in some light, you can't always walk
in the darkness--you'll only knock
things over. stop torturing yourself.
[ch.]
hey babe
it's okay
it's okay;
hush now darling
it's not the end, not today.
[v.2]
moving on isn't as easy as it sounds
you can't just pack your life into the back of a U-Haul
and drive away from your grief like a house with peeling wallpaper
and cracked ceilings and creaky stairs.
no, because this time, the door locked from the outside
and you can't see beyond the murky windows.
you can stop searching for the pictures in the static, love
or the faces in the clouds.
[pre-ch.]
[ch.]
[v.3]
the traffic slows once in a while, but it always pounds and pulses.
what if it stopped?
what if we got out and walked, or turned around and talked?
what if we weren't so afraid?
oh, the planes take off and the buses lumber away
the cars are like a tireless parade of ants
but when you're feeling lost or left behind, dear
take solace in the stillness that remains, let it settle on your skin like an old pair of pants.
[br.]
crossword puzzles may contain subliminal messages
public restrooms hanging gas masks on their walls
for every baby born, two satellites are chucked into space
and the most reliable information sources are bathroom stalls;
they've factories making duplicates of masterpieces of art
but don't take the shit to heart, cos i still love you
and one day they'll find a way to put a price on everything
but try your best to love your crooked neighbor with your crooked heart.
[pre-ch.]
[ch.]x2
--
i know, it's a long song.
and lyda doesn't really exist,
but this song is for the lydas of the world. i love you with my crooked heart.
credit for the 'crooked neighbor' line goes to w.h. auden, via looking for alaska.
and comments would be amazing.
saying you're fine doesn't make it true,
and when you feel like you're dying in the sun
or getting swept away into a lonely ocean of white noise,
it's okay to turn off the radio
to mute the TV and let the blades of the ceiling fan wind down for a little.
you and the silence, soft and shadowed
let it rest inside your silhouette
cos the fight's not over, not yet.
[pre-ch.]
let in some light, you can't always walk
in the darkness--you'll only knock
things over. stop torturing yourself.
[ch.]
hey babe
it's okay
it's okay;
hush now darling
it's not the end, not today.
[v.2]
moving on isn't as easy as it sounds
you can't just pack your life into the back of a U-Haul
and drive away from your grief like a house with peeling wallpaper
and cracked ceilings and creaky stairs.
no, because this time, the door locked from the outside
and you can't see beyond the murky windows.
you can stop searching for the pictures in the static, love
or the faces in the clouds.
[pre-ch.]
[ch.]
[v.3]
the traffic slows once in a while, but it always pounds and pulses.
what if it stopped?
what if we got out and walked, or turned around and talked?
what if we weren't so afraid?
oh, the planes take off and the buses lumber away
the cars are like a tireless parade of ants
but when you're feeling lost or left behind, dear
take solace in the stillness that remains, let it settle on your skin like an old pair of pants.
[br.]
crossword puzzles may contain subliminal messages
public restrooms hanging gas masks on their walls
for every baby born, two satellites are chucked into space
and the most reliable information sources are bathroom stalls;
they've factories making duplicates of masterpieces of art
but don't take the shit to heart, cos i still love you
and one day they'll find a way to put a price on everything
but try your best to love your crooked neighbor with your crooked heart.
[pre-ch.]
[ch.]x2
--
i know, it's a long song.
and lyda doesn't really exist,
but this song is for the lydas of the world. i love you with my crooked heart.
credit for the 'crooked neighbor' line goes to w.h. auden, via looking for alaska.
and comments would be amazing.