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Over The Rhine




Альбом Over The Rhine


Live From Nowhere: Volume Four (2009)
2009
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. . .


eyes wide open
to the great train robbery of my soul
impending blindness
of the kind that's beyond my control

eyes wide open
to the secret forest beyond those tear-filled trees
heart-rending blindness
won't testify that i'm on my knees

maybe i'm a little young to care
maybe i'm a little old to cry
i don't know
maybe i'm a little weak to dance
maybe i'm a little strong to die
i don't know

concentrating
love and i'm hating myself again
impersonating
the smallest shadow of my original self again

does anybody really want to grasp
my hand and lift me to my feet? does
anybody really want to be the breeze
that frightens off this heat?

. . .


Now if I could disclose secrets heaven only knows
if i'd lose all my ground and see your smile decompose
so I rest on the fact that I love you I suppose
and I hang like the colors on a blind man's clothes

how does it feel
how does it feel
how does it feel
to be on my mind

i'm the pale moon rising i'm the ghost in flight
that steals through the spaces of your inward night
i'm the moth that's resting on your window sill
with a lust for light and an iron will

pray tell talk to me can you feel me in the fingers
of the wind in your hair as if i'm standing there
very well like a child running to some mademoiselle
in his hand to his ear is pressed a great seashell

i'm the moon-eyed fish swimming up to you
you're the tall Titanic but you'll be subdued
there's someone mapping out a rendezvous
it seems to me.

you're in my shadow here in my room
love's such a strange word here in my room
i'm standing barefoot here in my room
sad as a gypsy here in my room

. . .


Now if I could disclose secrets heaven only knows
if i'd lose all my ground and see your smile decompose
so I rest on the fact that I love you I suppose
and I hang like the colors on a blind man's clothes
on a blind man's clothes

i'm the pale moon rising i'm the ghost in flight
that steals through the spaces of your inward night
i'm the moth that's resting on your window sill
with a lust for light and an iron will
and an iron will

pray tell talk to me can you feel me in the fingers
of the wind in your hair as if i'm standing there
very well like a child running to some mademoiselle
in his hand to his ear is pressed a great seashell
a great seashell

how does it feel
how does it feel

. . .


is it because I cannot see you
that you feel so free to steal
my excess baggage full of darkness and despair
while I fumble with my locks
you're content to stand and knock
yet I know your knack for thievery is rare

do you know they call it arson
setting fires without permission
in my heart for sure and maybe elsewhere too
though your lack of inhibition
captures my imagination
I end up a wiser person thanks to you

it's coming to fruition
the sympathetic vibration
your train is at my station
within without

then there is your flare for murder
there's a dagger in the border
of your cloak and I suspect a captain's gun
as you put to death suspicions
kindly kill my fears as well
exorcise and slay the demons one by one

though I'm usually pacifistic
you are mercifully sadistic
and I didn't know that murder could be good
but the roses came crimson
springing from the prison
of the floorboards where there once were stains of blood

it's coming to fruition
the sympathetic vibration
your train is at my station
within without
it's calming my suspicion
with soothing intuition
your train is at my station
within without
within without
within without
within without

. . .


confused
ever since i spied you in the rooms of my mind
now i can't deny you

bleeding and bruised
like a vagabond in rags i've walked the streets to you door
to find just what's in store

i see you
you and many others in your clean well-lighted place
where i would find disgrace

but i do
know i'd find contentment just to be your furniture
i need nothing more

in the thick of the night take me out of the cold
let me sing inside
like a radio
in the thick of the night before we grow too old
let me sing inside
like a radio

shivering and cold this night's conducive to a
flight into my soul but i stand here
though my heart grows bold
once on the inside i can quietly persist
and hold my tears

and so still i wait
though i grow much weaker
i will not faint
i'll stay true

believe me when i say
i'd climb to heaven
crawl beneath the lowest hell
to stay near you

. . .


you are a gardener
you cultivate my soul
you water thirsty vines
that snake along my spine
in case I forget to shiver
you are a carpenter
you build the scaffolding
replace the windowpane
I see the sky again
as if I've been delivered

you are a fisherman
my weather lets you know
when and when not to wait
your hook's inside the bait
I'm wary but I swallow
you are a messenger
you bring me all the news
the kind that never lies
it's written in my eyes
you beckon and it follows

I get to be guilty

you are a singer too
carry me like a tune
I'm like a newborn child
I'm wrapped up for a while
you're swaying like a hobo
you are a circus clown
I've never laughed before
beneath your canopy
oh say a prayer for me
I want this in a photo

so be a photographer
I'm dancing naked now
across the maple floor
above the lion's roar
your pictures will protect me
you must be a scientist by now
with rumpled midnight hair
you've studied every pore
and every follicle
of my bewildered body

I get to be guilty

yours is a different light
I like my face that way
the canvas of my skin
serene and strange but true

. . .


June the clouds in your eyes remind me of the way I feel
June the river will rise on all the secrets I conceal
June I'm following you somehow I've fallen far behind
June lately I feel I'd rather not believe love's blind

crazy it used to be so clear
what's hazy used to be so clear
am I lazy should I swallow all this fear
crazy it used to be so

June I'm feeling so good I'd love to die here just like this
June I'm feeling so strange screams are tangled up with bliss
June when I'm afraid I find a thousand ways to laugh
June when I'm alone I forget you anyway I can

June help me help me I'm running out of things to say
June tell me tell me will he love me anyway
God look over there there's pigeons nesting on your saints
God all I can say is forgive us rather forgive me

. . .


Maybe you can tell my why i'm prone to wander
i'm like a gypsy to the bone
every time i hear the rain amid the thunder
i want to run outside and shed my clothes
but i want to stay with you
long enough to love you right
and i want to say to you
i love the patience in your eyes

here i am standing in a circle of quiet
where a truce is tactily observed
standing in a circle of quiet
waiting for the world to turn
waiting for the world to turn
waiting for the world to turn

and a hundred days and night could find me scattered
all around the world without a name
but you're more than just a feather in my hat
more than just a fetter on my frame
when I look up in the sky at night
i want to go out and chase the stars
but like the catcher in the rye
i want to stay where you are

there is no shadow of turning with thee
there is no shadow of turning

. . .


are you my daddy
are you

I don't wanna cut you up
drink you from a paper cup
I don't wanna spit you out
or kick you in the shin
I don't wanna knock you down
be your mother be a clown
I don't wanna talk about
the shit you're really in
I don't wanna take a bow
no one's clapping anyhow
I don't wanna sneak around
and pray you'll understand
I don't wanna call your bluff
enough's enough
I don't wanna see you
chained up

are you my daddy
are you

I don't wanna ruffle you
cut the deck and shuffle you
don't wanna come to fisticuffs
or stick you with a pin
I don't wanna argue
hurt your pride or make you blue
your tongue is forked and clearly
there are scales upon your skin
I don't wanna help ice crack
give you a surprise attack
I don't wanna cut you slack
and watch it go to hell
I don't wanna tell you lies
like presbyterians or spies
I don't wanna see you chained up

are you my daddy
are you

don't you run away
leave me like a rainy day
I don't wanna make you stay
or stand up high above you
don't want you to see me cry
I'm just trying not to lie
I don't wanna see you chained up

. . .


spill-tainted pages of poetic prophecy
tickle my interest and taunt at my fantasy
gentle new lover, favorite friend
with hidden desire that bothers my conscience
again

like paul and virginia!
sit close to me on the swing
like paul and virginia!
sit close to me and i'll sing
(whisper my name, kiss me again)
i'll sing for you
with you
oh, you

cobalt blue vessels, clean same sex rabbits
old movie romance and a healthy new habit

moving in passion, resting in reason
with a strong tender poet who touches each region
within

illuminatiions that shine on the river
subliminal glances provoking a shiver

palms full of mystery, fingers of magic
greetings so glorious, partings so tragic

like paul and virginia!

. . .


I thought I'd go up Poughkeepsie,
look out o'er the Hudson,
and I'd throw my body down on the river.
And I'd know no more sorrow,
I'd fly like the sparrow
and I'd ride on the backs of the angels tonight.

I'd ride on the backs of the angels tonight.
I'd take to the sky with all my might.
No more drowning in my sorrow,
no more drowning in my fright,
I'd just ride on the backs of the angels tonight.

There are those who know sorrow
and those who must borrow
and those whose lot in life is sweet.
Well I'm drunk on self-pity,
scorned all that's been given me,
I would drink from a bottle labeled Sure Defeat.

I'd ride on the backs of the angels tonight.
I'd take to the sky with all my might.
No more drowning in my sorrow,
no more drowning in my fright,
I'd just ride on the backs of the angels tonight.

Then the skies, they fell open
and my eyes were opened
to a world of hope falling at my feet.
Now I've no more or less
than anyone else has,
what I have is a gift of life I can't repeat.

So I go up Poughkeepsie,
look out o'er the Hudson
and I cast my worries to the sky.
Now I still know sorrow,
but I can fly like the sparrow
‘cause I ride on the backs of the angels tonight.

I ride on the backs of the angels tonight.
I take to the sky with all their might.
No more drowning in my sorrow,
no more drowning in my fright,
I'll just ride on the backs of the angels each night.

. . .


Your paint dries, the canvas smiles,
with two eyes you lift yourself up.
Stroke your skin, there are teeth marks to be sure.
Maybe we're best close to the ground.
Maybe angels drag us down.
I wonder which part of this will leave the scar.

Dip your hands in colours
while the young night flutters in on you and
finger paint me pictures of all you see.
No matter what they say, you'll always be
faithfully dangerous, lost and lovely,
so beautiful to me.
I'm not too blind to see.

Red is blood. Black is sky.
White's the dove that longs to fly.
You set it free and it beats its wings in me.
It leaves us at a loss for words.
Is that me now in your arms?
We cradle together and fall down on our knees.

Let the whole world drift downstream.
We'll always be different.
Swim the silent slipstream inside of me.
No matter what they say, you'll always be
faithfully dangerous, lost and lovely,
so beautiful to me.
I'm not too blind to see.

Red is blood. Black is sky.
White's the dove that longs to fly.
You set it free and it beats its wings in me.
It leaves us at a loss for words.
Is that me now in your arms?
We cradle together and fall down on our knees.

The heart that beats is yours inside me.
Red is love. Black is night.
I'm drunk with angels taking flight.
The heart that beats is yours inside me.
The heart that beats is yours inside me.
The heart that beats is yours.

. . .


Will a man called Jesus ever take me in his arms?
Will a man called Jesus ever take me in his arms?
I lack grace and I lack charm.
This is cause for no alarm,
if a man called Jesus ever takes me in his arms.

Will a man called Jesus ever touch me on my face?
Will a man called Jesus ever touch me on my face?
The tears I cried would be erased.
This to me would be amazing grace,
if a man called Jesus ever touched me on my face.

Waiting, waiting, waiting,
I'm still waiting.
If a man called Jesus ever touched me on my face.

Will a man called Jesus ever look me in the eyes?
Will a man called Jesus ever look me in the eyes?
Burn away my alibis,
separate the truth from your vicious lies,
if a man called Jesus ever looked me in the eyes.

Waiting, waiting, waiting,
I'm still waiting.
if a man called Jesus ever looks me in the eyes.
Mercy, mercy, mercy,
I'll cry mercy
if a man called Jesus ever looks me in the eyes

. . .


Slow down. Hold still.
It's not as if it's a matter of will.
Someone's circling. Someone's moving
a little lower than the angels.
And it's got nothing to do with me.
The wind blows through the trees,
but if I look for it, it won't come.
I tense up. My mind goes numb.
There's nothing harder than learning how to receive.

Calm down. Be still.
We've got plenty of time to kill.
No hand writing on the wall:
just the voice that's in us all.
And you're whispering to me,
time to get up off my hands and knees,
'cause if I beg for it, it won't come.
I find nothing but table crumbs.
My hands are empty. God I've been naive.

All I need is everything.
Inside, outside, feel new skin.
All I need is everything.
Feel the slip and the grip of grace again.

Slow down. Hold still.
It's not as if it's a matter of will.
Someone's circling. Someone's moving
a little lower than the angels.
This voice calling me to you:
it's just barely coming through.
Still, I clearly hear my name.
I've been fingering the flame
like tomorrow's martyr.
It gets harder to believe.

All I need is everything.
Inside, outside, feel new skin.
All I need is everything.
Feel the slip and the grip of grace again.

So from now till kingdom come,
taste the words on the tip of my tongue.
'Cause we can't run truth out of town,
only force it underground.
The roots grow deeper
in ways we can't conceive.

All I need is everything.
Inside, outside feel new skin.
All I need is everything.
Feel the slip and the grip of grace again.

All I need is all I need.

. . .


if i'm drowning within your open sea
save me, save me
if i'm lost within your strange anatomy
talk to me, talk to me
if i'm on fire and i'm melting in the heat
touch me, touch me
if i'm tangled in your raw philosophy
then you better walk with me
walk with me

i'm just walking across your heart
in spite of the weather
(won't you walk with me?)

if i'm dancing through your passages and fall
catch me, catch me
if i'm screaming in your sky and tell you all
hear me, hear me
if i'm feigning coherence and calmness
laugh with me, laugh with me
if i tremble at your close proximity
then you better believe me
believe me

i can see you now
i can hear you now
i can feel you now
i can taste you now
in spite of the weather
yeah

. . .


I painted my name on a bridge today
in black and white and red and grey
you know it's really not far away
from the banks of the river
where the president used to play

i put it high above the rocks below
it's sheltered from the wind and rain and snow
you know the bridge where we used to go
our childish trolls and freaks and giant demons

sunday i hope you might come by
on a big white boat with the sails up high
sunday i hope that you'll be true
to all it is i see in you

yet strange enough i'm still in love with you
and so it seems there's work to do
i've got my bow and arrow and barlow blade
come dawn i want to ride in your brigade

sunday i hope you might come by
on a big white horse in the big white sky
sunday I know we'll reconcile
down by the river we'll dream awhile
down by the river we'll sing awhile
down by the river we'll play awhile
down by the river we'll cry awhile
down by the river we'll dance awhile
down by the river just you and i

. . .


What a beautiful piece of heartache
This has all turned out to be
Lord knows we've learned the hard way
All about healthy apathy

I use these words pretty loosely
There's so much more to life than words

There is a me you would not recognize, dear
Call it the shadow of myself
And if the music starts before I get there
Dance without me, you dance so gracefully
I really think I'll be okay
They've taken a toll, these latter days

Nothing like sleeping on a bed of nails
Nothing much here but our broken dream
Oh, but baby, if all else fails
Nothing is ever quite what it seems

And I'm dying inside to leave you
With more than just cliches

There is a me you would not recognize, dear
Call it the shadow of myself
And if the music starts before I get there
Dance without me, you dance so gracefully
I really think I'll be okay
They've taken their toll, these latter days
They've taken their toll, these latter days

Tell them it's real
Tell them it's really real
I just don't have much left to say
They've taken their toll, these latter days
They've taken their toll, these latter days

. . .


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