The Accident

Listen, here lies the body I should have died in
It's cold and covered in sweat
I swear I never knew I'd meet the hospital
She was just a foot in front
His feet felt heavy in the heat
He was speeding

And now

Please let me decide
Fever's not the enemy
I fight not only death, but life
Don't stay by my side
I've heard the word of God
And he's died
So why'd you slave to save my life...
You, His understudy

Now

Never in my life have I seen such pity
Such fury
In the eyes of dreamers
You'd wonder who'd blame the doctor
In the case of strangulation
It's been done in years past
So why rehash old demons
This bread denied merely tastes of grandmother's ashes

Over her body
She stares
Says, "You, yea, you're just like a saint"
I don't care
Ha, you'd swear I am capable of great things

I've wanted to love her
An escapade undercover

Karamazov plays somewhere across the street
Determines my fate;
Expectations to meet
"Theatre...or you don't love me"
An imitation of what you used to be?

Ahhhhhhhh!

There too will come a time when
You! will never see the light
You! will never see the dawn again

If my heart stopped at 80,
Would you shatter my ribcage to save me?
These vaccine victories are fleeting

Not every body is a dying soldier
Fighting for his life
His country more
Ah, I've fought my war

Bayonets and bandages to repair the damages
Burning portraits to rekill the dead
Ungrateful; hateful for a blessed gift
Such is man alive
What becomes of humanity
Once it fantasizes its demise?

(interlude)

When you put me under...I
Fought on the side of the dead
To know kills your pleasure
So I lie instead, though

You! will never see the light
You! will never see the dawn again

Frightened by suffering
They shrink away at the sight of this face
Not that saint with the name
Sarah
Never forgotten

Karamazov plays somewhere across the street
Determines my fate;
Expectations to meet
"Theatre...or you don't love me"
Imitations of the living


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This is heavily inspired by the book The Accident, also known as Day, which I first read in high school. It messed with me then, and when I read it again it still messed with me. Anyways, I finished this shortly after Workforce (Jennings Bryan). I don't know why I worked at them at the same time, but it turned out alright.

Workforce (Jennings Bryan)

Roads to the gallows
We buy our houses on
They're all paved in gold
Never cold; withstand the stocks and bonds

Days long; nights hollow
The holes are black and cold in my mouth
Swallow
Pride of past
Prince of inner casts

Beyond these hills we've bled
Our countries we have fled
For what but all these caustic images

I'll pull the trigger
If it will get me by
Like moths; now cinders
A healthy alibi

Living life with deep lucidity
To know that which does ail me
And write just like Thucydides
Embark in prayer honestly

Beyond these hills we've bled
Our countries we have fled
For what but all these caustic images
Mirages.

Subsidized each lie that'd break the least amount
Of bones and though the thought that twists my soul
Does certainly wax brave
I nevertheless obey

This broader class of businessmen - my brothers
Has our government turned backs on us?
Who must repair this progress?
It must be us.

Oh...

Built on immigrant bones and arrowheads
Taken back promises
Built on immigrant bones and arrowheads
Taken back promises
What will become of our children
Too young to know this?
Sacrifice...

Assault to prosper
When slumber leaves you dry
Postage paid bullets
Dead letters; paper lullabies

Beyond these hills we've bled
Our countries we have fled
For what but daydreams and nightmares
Beyond these hills we've bled
This country we have wed
For what but all these caustic images


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This is the first finished version of lyrics for a untitled song Abe wrote on guitar. Almost all of the melodies and patterns are worked out, but things are subject to change as I continue to sing it. Working on The Accident still, and have been rather concurrently with this one; they are very different songs. A new and strange writing process for me...

Oh! And this song takes the same line from the last post: broader class of businessmen. It's from that WJB speech, you know? It stuck with me and found itself in my writing. And there's a Moby Dick reference in this one! Oh man, I have to stop making allusions so vague, but I just don't care; I'll put them anywhere.

Custom Circles

When were the moments?
I've forgotten them it seems
Meant to hide; couldn't control it
What separates dream from day

Seems it's here to stay
This lingering feeling
The blanket that connects us all
Is quilted to decay

Where were the house fires?
Where were the ghosts?
I called out their names
They've forgotten them, you know
Revisionism for amnesiacs
Trading textbooks for heart attacks

Drifting
And sleeping

Drifting
Slipping

Bison and beasts wander the light
They shake your hands
And take your wives

Broader class of businessmen
Worse than dogs; they have no day

Handpicked history is all I need
Handpicked history is all I need
Objective thinkers 'fore lobotomy
Constant selective memory


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Definitely a reference in there to the "Cross of Gold" speech, I'll give you that one. I wrote this pretty quickly yesterday, and it didn't really feel finished. But I stopped writing anyways; I may change or add something to it. Bah! Bah.