"it is possible to see in this debris,"
i say these words your mother said to me,
"paint it gold upon the bleeding red walls,
in the hallway where the clock rings
and light switches ___ the sea,
the lightning and the sound
lead the ships out to the sea."
and the horn that you will blow into the air
i can recall the tone, how it'll never sound the same to me
i love to hear them coming from your mouth
but you never want to blow them just for me
i could ask you if you never lied to me
then why did you insist on playing melodies for friends
if you could tell me
it would delight me
but i know that you don't care
so tell me why you ever had acted like you did
it's been a weakness or an obstacle,
the telling lies;
i sense it may be more than mere disguise in truth for clarity
won't you tell me,
won't you tell me,
won't you tell me,
louise
and i know that this would linger in obscurity
and i can see you running 'round the town, so obviously--
searching for that fun that you just can't buy
but life is cruel sometimes
its moments linger longer sometimes
making people stronger sometimes
making people long for a moment that would last much longer
and i cry for you
i know that you're afraid to die
i'd love to see you happy, but i hate to see you try to break into me
only for that reason that i can't completely hide
but my peace of mind is more than you will find
in your empty little games in life
and i can see you running 'round the town, so obviously--
searching for that fun you just can't buy
but life is cruel sometimes