Альбом The Decemberists

My name is Leslie Anne Levine
My mother birthed me down a dry revine
My mother birthed me far too soon
Born at nine and dead at noon

Fifteen years gone now
I still wander this parapet
And shake my rattle bone
Fifteen years gone now
I still cling to the petticoats
Of the girl who died with me

On the roofs above the streets
The only love I've known's a chimney sweep
Lost and lodged inside a flue
Back in 1842

Fifteen years gone now
I still wail from these catacombs
And curse my mother's name
Fifteen years gone now
Still a wastrel mesallied
Has brought this fate on me

My name is Leslie Anne Levine
I've got no one left to mourn for me
My body lies inside its grave
In a ditch not far away

Fifteen years gone now
I still wander this parapet
And shake my rattle bone
Fifteen years gone now
I still cling to the petticoats

And here I dreamt I was a soldier
And I marched the streets of birkenau
And I recall in spring
The perfume that the air would bring
To the indolent town
Where the barkers call the moon down
The carnival was ringing loudly now
And just to lay with you
There's nothing that I wouldn't do
Save lay my rifle down

And try one, and try two
Guess it always comes down to
Alright, it's okay, guess it's better to turn this way

And I am nothing of a builder
But here I dreamt I was an architect
And I built this balustrade
To keep you home, to keep you safe
From the outside world
But the angles and the corners
Even though my work is unparalleled
They never seemed to meet
This structure fell about our feet
And we were free to go

And try one, and try two
Guess it always comes down to
Alright, okay, guess it's better to turn this way

And here in spain I am a spaniard
I will be buried with my marionettes
Countess and courtesan
Have fallen 'neath my tender hand
When their husbands were not around
But you, my soiled teenage girlfriend
Or are you furrowed like a lioness
And we are vagabonds
We travel without seatbelts on
We live this close to death

And try one, and try two
Guess it always comes down to
Alright, it's okay, guess it's better to turn this
But I won, so you lose
Guess it always comes down to

There is a road that meets the road
That goes to my house
And how the green grows there
And we've got special boots
To beat the path to my house
And it's careful and it's careful when I'm there

And I say your uncle was a crooked french canadian
And he was gut-shot running gin
And how his guts were all suspended in his fingers
and how he held 'em
How he held 'em held, 'em in

And the water rolls down the drain
The water rolls down the drain
O, what a lonely thing
In a lonely drain

July, July, July
It never seemed so strange

This is the story of the road that goes to my house
And what ghosts there do remain
And all the troughs that run the length and breadth of my house
And the chickens how they rattle chicken chains

And we'll remember this when we are old and ancient
Though the specifics might be vague
And I'll say your camisole was a sprightly light magenta
When in fact it was a nappy bluish grey

And the water rolls down the drain
The blood rolls down the drain
O, what a lonely thing
In a blood red drain

July, July, July

There's a place your mother goes when everybody else is soundly sleeping
Through the lights of beacon street
And if you listen you can hear her weeping,
She's weeping, cause the gentlemen are calling
And the snow is softly falling on her petticoats.
And she's standing in the harbour
And she's waiting for the sailors in the jolly boat.
See how they approach

With dirty hands and trousers torn they grapple 'til she's safe within their
keeping
A gag is placed between her lips to keep her sorry tongue from any speaking, or
screaming
And they row her out to packets where the sailor's sorry racket calls for
maidenhead
And she's scarce above the gunwales when her clothes fall to a bundle and she's
laid in bed on the upper deck

And so she goes from ship to ship, her ankles clasped, her arms so rudely
pinioned
'Til at last she's satisfied the lost of the marina's teeming minions, and their
opinions

And they tell her not to say a thing to cousin, kindred, kith or kin or she'll
end up dead
And they throw her thirty dollars and return her to the harbour where she goes
to bed, and this is how your fed

So be kind to your mother, though she may seem an awful bother, and the next
time she tries to feed you collard greens, Remember what she does when you're

They've come to find you, Odalisque
As the light dies horribly
On a fire escape you walk
All rare and resolved to drop

And when they find you, Odalisque
They will rend you, terribly
Stitch from stitch 'til all
Your linen limbs will fall

Lazy lady had a baby girl
And a sweet it made
Raised on pradies, peanut shells and dirt
In a railroad cul-de-sac

And what do we do with ten baby shoes
A kit bag full of marbles and a broken billiard cue?
What do we do?
What do we do?

Fifteen stitches will mend those britches right
And them rip them down again
Sapling switches will rend those rags alright
What a sweet sound it makes

And what we do with ten dirty Jews
A thirty-ought full of rock salt and a warm afternoon?
What do we do?
What do we do?

Lay your belly under mine
Naked under me, under me
Such a filthy dimming shine
The way you kick and scream, kick and scream

And what do we with ten baby shoes
A kit bag full of marbles and broken billiard cue?
What do we do?

This cocoon, caught in vesuvius' shadow
Only the ashes remain
And I waited there for you
Why couldn't you?
Here we lie waiting for something to startle
To shake us from gravity's pull
And so the sleeping hours are through
What can we do?

The tainted election, the low dirty war, it happened before you came to
But this is solution, and this is amends
The joke always tends to come true
But there on your windowsill over the unmoving platoon
Written in paperback, the key to the quarterback's room
Under waning moon

This quiet serves only to hide you
Provide you
What I knew: it'd come back to you

Take this palm, follow the lines here are written
And script out the rest of your life
And feel your fingers falling slack and all folding back

The sorry coclusion, the hole in the sky
Command what is tried, what is true
But without solution, with feet on the ground
It won't make a sound 'til you're through
So loosen your shoulderblades
This is your hour to make due
Because there on the timberline
Deep cold november shines through

Grace Cathedral hill
All wrapped in bones of setting sun
All dust and stone and moribund
I paid twenty-five cents to light
A little white candle
For a New Year's Day
I sat and watched it burn away
Then turned and weaved
Through slow decay
We were both a little hungry
So we went to get hot dog

Down to Hyde Street Pier
The light was slight and disappeared
The air it stunk of fish and beer
We heard a Superman trumpet
Play the national anthem

And the world may be long for you
But'll never belong to you
But on a motorbike
When all the city lights
Blind your eyes tonight
Are you feeling better now?

Some way to greet the year:
Your eyes all bright and
Brim with tears
The pilgrims, pills, and tourists here
Will sink fifty-three bucks to buy
A brand new halo

Sweet on a green-eyed girl
All fiery Irish clip and curl
All brine and piss and vinegar
I paid twenty-five cents to light
A little white candle

And the world may be long for you
But'll never belong to you
But on a motorbike
When all the city lights
Blind your eyes tonight

I'm a legionnaire
Camel in disrepair
Hoping for a frigidaire to come passing by
I am on reprieve
Lacking my joie de vive
Missing my gay paris
In this desert dry

And I wrote my girl
Told her I would not return
Terribly taken a turn
For the worse now I fear

It's been a year or more
Since they shipped me to this foreign shore
Fighting in a foreign war
So far away from my home

If only summer rain would fall
On the houses and the boulevards
And the side walk bagatelles it's like a dream
With the roar of cars
And the lulling of the cafe bars,
The sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine.
Lord I don't know if I'll ever be back again.

La la la la dam
La la la low

Medicating in the sun
Pinched doses of laudanum
Longing for the old fecundity of my homeland
Curses to this mirage!
A bottle of ancient Chiraz
A smattering of distant applause
Is ringing in my poor ears

On the old left bank
My baby in a charabanc
Riding up the width and length
Of the Champs Elysees

If only summer rain would fall
On the houses and the boulevard
And the side walk bagatelles it's like a dream
With the roar of cars
And the lulling of the cafe bars
The sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine
Lord I don't know if I'll ever be back again

If only summer rain would fall
On the houses and the boulevard
And the side walk bagatelles its like a dream
With the roar of cars
And the lulling of the cafe bars
The sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine
Lord I don't know if I'll ever be back again...

Be back again,
Be back again,

You slept in your overalls
After the wrecking ball
Bereft you of house and home
And left you with sweet fuck-all
So we got in your car
With our kickabout hearts
And we hollared out 'sweet clementine'

Tell your mom to marry us
A candle to carry us
With cans on our bicycle fenders
So sweet and hilarious
And we'll find us a home
Built of packaging foam
That will be there 'til after we die

And, I'll play the clarinet
Use clamshells for castinets
We play with our bags on our shoulders
My sweet lady lioness
And I watch as you sleep
So indelibly deep

Take a long drive with me
On California one, California one
Take a long drive with me
On California one, California one...

And the road a-winding goes
From golden gate to roaring cliff-side
And the light is softly low as our hearts Become sweetly untied
Beneath the sun of California one

Take a long drown with me of California Wine

And the wine it tastes so sweet
As we lay our eyes to wander
And the sky, it stretches deep

Will we rest our heads to slumber Beneath the vines of California wine?
Beneath the sun of California one

Annabelle lies, sleeps with quiet eyes
On this sea-drift sun
What can you do?
And if I said, O it's in your head
On this sea-drift sun
What can you do?

We're calling all bed wetters and ambulance chasers
Poor picker-pockets, bring 'em in
Come join the youth and beauty brigade

We're lining up the light-loafere'd
And the bored bench warmers
Castaways and cutouts, fill it up
Come join the youth and beauty brigade
Nothing will stand in our way

I figured I had paid my debt to society
By paying my overdue fines at the mulnoma county library, at the library
They said 'son, go join up
Go join the youth and beauty brigade'