Альбом Jawbox

i lifted a hammer so many times
to strike a nail into my house.
but instead i struck
the thick air of indifference.
two trips to the pavement
wasn't what i had in mind,
when i said i was moving up in this world.
bruised knees and hands
brought down my plans.
tripped round and fell and fount,
a shining penny on the ground -
promise of fortunes yet to come -
that i built into a train
and took the land.
it was a puzzle to me until i learned,
that you can be cold and still get
burned.

forced open eyes, i felt the heat cling to me,
felt the air pass through me
rode an engine that was wearing down.
from bearing me between the nether ends of questions,
past my half-learned lessons,
while i faked a joyful sound.
chrysalis, always waiting, wasting time
debating action, feeling smart,
and pushing to be pulled apart.
you know this road so well,
can't tell me where it leads.
fifty miles of extremes, from contact to withdrawal,
that engine's slowing to a crawl.
doubtful of a coming change,
that turns half into a whole
without feeling pain at all.
you know this road so well,
can't tell me
where it leads...
it's only in-between.

deny responsibility.
you make yourself into a tool,
but the forge is never called into question.
the eye beholds the reward.
you need to be adored.
you're the finish so you'd better look good;
from day one this has been your lesson.
if this is all you need to be,
your conscience is a liability.
do you ever doubt this was meant to be?
you shine.
this kind of polish can be very expensive,
but soul is unknown
to tools and chrome.

you paint walls and
buildings so tall -
sunlight never reaches the earth.
a birth, as the paint covers cracks
and stains, and nothing remains.
but a new face so pale and white -
sunlight makes it shrink,
and think that maybe the womb
sings a better tune,
the mind-bending heat of blistering streets
and air so polluted,
that every breath is a curse.
you paint walls and buildings so tall
that sunlight never reaches earth.
but the sound of crying still
will reach your ears.

You woke from a dream of a blank page,
unwritten story of six years sleeping.
Clear-headed or empty-headed,
it was a secret that would bear keeping.
Looking for a star to wish upon,
ready to be used until you're gone.
Accept a consolation prize, in this you're not alone.
Kept in fear of what's inside you,
but outside you nothing is certain.
Certainty's a dream anyway, in which you cannot move,
in which your hands are bound.
While you are looking for a star to wish upon,
ready to be used until you're gone.
Accept a consolation prize,
in this you're not alone.
Walking condescension, drowning in intentions,
waiting for someone to eye what you have proffered.
There's nothing offered in your gesture,
just the slightest supplication for a consolation prize.

Wreck rebirth,
The broken-bottled dregs unneeded for conviction anymore.
Median castaway,
the faded green's allure.
Played enough
at climbing from my concrete island home;
forgotten what those broken legs were for.

I'll leave behind the tyranny of signs,
transparent things you hold on to.
I know what's mine,
a greying field of sky,
and in whose grip I lie.

Pain no less,
blackout caresses,
encroaching green,
forgotten what my failing eyes had seen–
once so excessive,
now so lean.

blood marks the road
where the animal left its life behind,
in a red stain
that the rain will wash away.
fall of night foretold,
sky colors like a bruise,
and i think of ones i used to know and
of paths they had to choose.
for we are born and we remain forever
trapped inside our heads.
no human chords are struck
without a resonance in other lives,
but the echoes we hold onto seem
as arbitrary as the times.
for we are born and will remain.

To waste and choose or raise the dead
With pain behind go straight ahead
Room full of people grouping as one
I can't break out now, the time just won't come

To waste and choose which way to go
Decide for me, please, let me know
Looked in the mirror, saw I was wrong
If I could get back to where I belong, where I belong

To waste and choose which way to go
I paused for one whose signs forbode
If we were immortal, we would not bear
Washed up on the beach here, struggle for air

I see your face still in my window
Tormented clouds won't set me free

Something must break now, this life isn't mine
Something must break now, wait for the time
Something must break

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A minute,
a second,
a half-life,
a minus,
a segment,
a blinder,
elective detention.
It's secession time,
paid for by cutting backwards.
It's election time,
letting every insult become presidential injury.

(Chorus)
(I'm begging you just hold my head up)
This last disgrace,
breathe in my face,
bleed in distaste,
bless this amen.
final lesson.

A minute,
a second,
a half-life,
a minus,
a second
reminder,
selective attention.
It's secession time,
paid for by cutting backwards.
It's insurrection time,
letting every insult be accepted into history.


(I'm begging you just hold my head up)
This last disgrace,
breathe in my face,
bleed in distaste,
bless this amen.
final lesson.
(Na-Na-Now)

This last disgrace,
bless this amen.

Final lesson.
(Na-Na-Now)

Final lesson.
(Na-Na-Now)

Final lesson.
(Na-Na-Now)

Final lesson.
(Na-Na-Now)

Final lesson.

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Age six, and runs, through white-hot courtyards.
Past fountains, past fishponds, and the beating sun of China stops.
Age six, and runs, through red pavilions.
Up hills, past streams of no regret.

Tomorrow she'll run no more.

When will she come?
To wind my feet and grow me up.
And how long does it take?
To bend the arch and hear it break?

Age six tied to the chair.

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there is an arsenal, and it is possible to dim the lights some more and hide it from our eyes. there is a path to blaze, that curves both right and left. looked down and saw the ground, looked round and cut the trees. looked up and saw the sky, launched a mission in disguise. there is a shining sky, and it is possible to run the race on earth, to patch the wounded ground. there is a path to blaze. the right path is what is left.

blood marks the road
where the animal left its life behind,
in a red stain
that the rain will wash away.
fall of night foretold,
sky colors like a bruise,
and i think of ones i used to know and
of paths they had to choose.
for we are born and we remain forever
trapped inside our heads.
no human chords are struck
without a resonance in other lives,
but the echoes we hold onto seem
as arbitrary as the times.
for we are born and will remain.

[Нет текста]