This song is called “Old Guitar” which is strange because I hate songs that mention guitars in them. It is creepy- like a painting of a paint brush. I don’t trust artists that are so into art that they actually write songs about it. It feels masturbatory when artists set art too high on a pedestal. If artists are going to worship anyone, it should be the people who make it possible for them to pursue lacy ephemeral things- people like lumberjacks, soldiers, carpenters, farmers, moms etc. It is only thanks to these practical people that the ones like me can exist.*
Also, I sort of believe that- as much as possible- artist should try to be soldiers & lumberjacks themselves, not just sit around fingering a guitar all day. Otherwise, they are like cut flowers that don’t have much to draw upon.
This song, which I wrote around a month ago, turned out to be prescient, since the following weeks have been spent uncovering secrets and sitting around crying because of them. Oh well. At any rate, I am now left with the feeling that I don’t want to be me anymore. At least not the suffocating me I have grown accustomed to. All I really want out of life is to live on the beach in a tiny pink shack and do psychic readings for people. And have enough money to buy t-shirts, scented soaps, and fish sandwiches. And to be able to swim through the ocean every day with my eyes open.
Would I want to do music? Maybe… I don’t know. Some parts I don’t like, like having to record it and upload it to a website. The process is straightforward and takes very little time, but still I seem to dread it. I am a technophobe, maybe. Plus, it is lonely, but the alternative is to sing and dance on a stage with people watching and that has a hollow feeling as well. Maybe I just don’t feel the need to share anything of myself with the world in the first place. What is the world but a big hollow ball? Why did I ever decide to “express myself” to begin with? I can’t remember what the point was…
When it comes to gold and kings
When it comes to killing things
When it comes to what we know
Stairs that lead us down below
Nightfall, falling away
Nightfall, come and play
Nightfall, will you help us slide
into the place where secrets hide?
All along, we travelled through a star encrusted sky
But did you ever know he watched you fly?
When it comes to giving things
and the happiness it brings
When to bravery and pride
Ribbons on our horses tied
Nightfall, falling away
Nightfall, come and play
Nightfall, will you watch us ride
into the place where secrets hide?
All along, we travelled through a star encrusted sky
But did you ever know he watched you fly?
When it comes to time and space
We remain in the same place
When it comes to killing me
Lift the knife and you will see
Nightfall, tumbling bone
Nightfall, velvet home
Nightfall, bury us inside
to reach the place where secrets hide.
All along, we travelled through a star encrusted sky
But did you ever know he watched you fly?
Ruby moon in the sky- please don’t upset me Ruby foot upon the ground- you’ll never get me You are the sort of man I like to You are the sort of man I like to…
Ruffle my wings, you wake me from my slumber. I smile to see you there, my little rumbler You are the sort of man I like to You are the sort of man I like to spy.
You know we all came here to fly, and I… I like to fly through trees and search for those to kill Find you I will.
A dark moon in the sky- you’ll never see me I’m right behind you, dear, in case you need me You are the sort of man I like to You are the sort of man I like to…
You feel my wing it wraps around your shoulders You press your body tight against the boulder You are the sort of man I like to You are the sort of man I like to spy.
You know we all came here to fly, and I… I like to fly through trees and search for those to kill Find you I will.
I close my eyes and press my ruby lips upon your face I close my eyes and now we’re gone, Gone, gone, gone, gone to a special place
Some say that we can never know the reasons why But I believe we came on earth to fly and I… I like to fly through trees and search for those to kill Find you I will.
Fly away in a little bit
Fly away in a cloud of strings
Like the sun on an icicle
You found your pair of wings.
When the time wasn’t over yet
When the time was ready to begin
When my heart was red lying in a box
Waiting for the sticking pin.
There you go, I know your eyes
Fire like a flash of pain
Feel it burn, feel it end
What is the name of this thing that remains?
Fly away in a little bit
Fly away in a cloud of strings
Like the sun on an icicle
You found your pair of wings.
There you go, the hand that wears the glove of velvet red
Like a woman, like a child, is the man afraid of his own death
Like a woman, like a child- the man who will never fight
Flickering beneath the sky and dying that same night.
Fly away in a little bit
Fly away in a cloud of strings
Like the sun on an icicle
You found your pair of wings.
There you go, the man I know whose legs are far too thin
Find the box and open it to push your stick pin in
Fire I know, death I know, I also know your eyes
Like a woman, like a child- the man who never lies.
Fly away in a little bit
Fly away in a cloud of strings
Like the sun on an icicle
You found your pair of wings.
