Lyrics

Crawling down a flight of stairs in evening light,
a tiny house you could never place,
your father stands upon the lawn, his shadow stretching clear across the world.
It was open and closed when you came here,
You don’t know how you know but you know you know
There wasn’t any dawn.

Now he lay upon the bed, his breathing thin,
you’re listening to “The Crystal Ship.” The nurse sees
your wife’s expecting. “Don’t stop there,
I’ve ten in Port-au-prince,” he says. “That’s a soccer team!”
And your hair’s turning grey as he says this,
like someone that you didn’t intend to be
is slowly being born.

Deep down below these stories piled on stone,
a fire chases winter from the building.
If I only had known! If I only knew years ago
there was never a need to fear anything.

The sun is like a dying coal, a feeble slap
across the face of February. Now there’s a
vacant house in disarray, the clocks all stopped,
the mirrors face the ceiling.
It was open and closed when you came here,
you didn’t have to listen to anyone
and you don’t have to now.

They burnt the body, squandered all of its heat
and handed you a cardboard box of gravel.
“Piece of cake,” you are hearing him say.
“Don’t stand by for even a beat. Just walk
into the room. That’s all, you just walk.”

Personnel

DW – vocals, acoustic guitar, baritone and piccolo electric guitars, marimba, percussion
EP – violin
KM – bassoon, vocals
JH – bass, vocals
JG – drums, percussion, vibraphone, marimba