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little hope
 
A prayer book wrapped in tinfoil was waiting in the post today, and a hair shirt dipped in snake oil was what I wore when you went away. The breakbeats and a broken back helped me get down on my knees to pray, and when God answered I'd have spoken back, but I didn't have a single thing to say.
 
A little hope is a dangerous thing when you're trying to cope with a wedding ring. A little dope might get you through the night, but don't expect all the wrecks to feel alright.
 
You will make it to the coast, you know, if you walk long enough in a line… and when your ghost has nowhere else to go, maybe you'll give me a little piece of your time. A red branch and a green beret is what I'll wave when you come on back. I hope my head can tell me what to say when I watch you have another heart attack.
 
A little hope is a dangerous thing when you're trying to cope with a wedding ring. A little dope might get you through the night, but don't expect all the wrecks to feel alright.

phantom limbs
 
Oh brother, another has left you and gone. And would I be wrong to tell you I'm not surprised? It's the same old story of green eyes, like a sad song you'd always sing at Christmas. You'd tell us that you missed us, and you'd say, “She feels like a phantom limb. An incessant itching, a space where there should be something, but cut off in its prime.”
 
And now you're just bitching without reason or rhyme. Is it treason to hope that if I gave you enough rope that you'd learn how to climb?
 
Oh brother, I love you, but it's not Christmas time for another two seasons, so please think of the reasons to sing a different song for a while.

wolves and ravens
 
I was walking with the author when he turned to me and said “Neither doctors nor the deckhands ever fixed my broken head.” Then he dragged me to the window, made me look out at the night. Well the wind it was all coloured with a million burning kites.
 
Oh count the chickens when they're dancing on the hotplates. Valkyries are singing and they're checking out your ice skates. Ice is on the river, ice is on the river. If you give her what she asks for then who will give the dictates?
 
And all the pupils couldn't focus, and the teachers were dismayed, when the clouds all turned their faces and the sun began to fade. For with the Winter comes the snowfall, with the snowfall comes the frost, and the schools must close their classes as the children have been lost. While all their parents build new lobbies round the houses of their shame, and the dark Satanic chimneys belch out blue and scarlet flames.
 
Oh count the chickens when they're dancing on the hotplates. Ragnarok is coming and you're putting on your ice skates. Ice is on the river, ice is on the river. If you give her what she asks for then who will give the dictates?
 
So with the deep held set of notions that you picked up in the rain, you aimed at your ambitions. Fired a bullet through your brain. And as the ravens peck your eyes out and the wolves they tear your flesh, you'll be writing little ditties to the one you liked the best.
 
Oh count the chickens when they're dancing on the hotplates. Valkyries are singing and they're checking out your ice skates. Ice is on the river, ice is on the river. If you give her what she asks for then who will give the dictates?
 
Ice is on the river, ice is on the river. Valhalla is calling and it's an Indian giver.

three fingers
 
I've got three fingers of whiskey, and the afternoon goes by briskly. I listen to the crooning singers and try not to wonder if you miss me.
 
They pulled me from the wreck. Ten hours of sea and regret. I lost three fingers on my right hand, that's more luck than most would get.
 
When you left I got this notion that I'd need to drink to feel emotion. I hope you see me, as I sink. Don't leave me here in this ocean.

featurette
 
Our second chances come and go, I guess you've got to know when you can catch them. Like the buses on your road, they seemed to set their own time tables. And if we dreamed of a time we'd be able to match those speeds, I don't know.
 
Though Chinatown was truly great, was it worth the death of Sharon Tate at the hands of crazy folk? We'd joke about such things at length. And when you got back your strength, we would dance out across the roof even though it was barely waterproof. Talking about our favourite books, giving each other looks that said “If I didn't know better I'd get in bed with you until the world outside was new, again.”
 
Your parents met in '45. Lucky to be alive and free those plucky refugees they bore you into this world, and then I saw you twenty years later more or less. And though I know it's really tasteless, I'm kind of grateful to all those fascists whose hateful antics forced the genes together that made you, and granted me your soft sighs and green eyes, my friend.

fragment (w/ david wright)
 
In this beautiful place I am walking in haste to reach out for the hem of your skirt. It's a terrible prize when I look in your eyes and realise that you're feeling hurt again. Is this when you decide that you will leave me, then? And in a terrible fear of this moment is where I find I spend most of my life.
 
In this arrogant town I am walking head down to avoid all the glares of your friends, with an awkward disdain I have managed to frame. In the same way that light from the sun bends away, I will stay, refracted by your pride another day. And in a terrible fear of this moment is where I find I spend most of my life.

london death cults
 
Down, down to London city, baby, that's where we'll go. Up with the wheels and elevators, somewhere we don't know. Sidestepping all those issues today for our peace of mind. Underneath all your allegations are pieces you can't find; memories… or are they dreams, these days you cannot tell. So on the railtracks we roam so proud of words that no one else can spell.
 
Right now I've got wonder, honey, where can all this lead. Left overs on the dinner table, watching our hearts bleed. Back then you know we nearly had it if we'd pulled them through. Forward to four words spoken daily; “I almost love you.” Sentiments I never asked for but I will accept. So on the afternoons we shirk so shamed by failures no one else regrets.
 
Day breaks in London city, baby, like some sweet kid's heart. Nightclubs and piss-stained shopping centres, this is where we'll start. A dawning realisation that you won't always be young. Dusk brings you all the revelations, truth feels like a gun. Morbidly, we act out parts of dead men with disdain. So in our hotel rooms we hide, so scared of life that no love can remain.

the person you love is 72.8% water
 
When I was a child, five or a little older, there was a while when I was scared of the cola my mother poured me. I thought I should expect a shark to swim slowly in those dark depths.
 
And now that I stare into your blue eyes, I'm reminded of the dark there behind the sky. Though I'm sure that you would taste so sweet I can't help but wonder what sharks wait in you, for me.

i hate the summertime
 
Anger gives me hope. I tell myself “Get out of the house, stop moping. It's bad for your health. Try something else than just coping with yourself.”
 
Traffic makes me smile. I go to sleep for a while. Wake up again to remember that I've been in denial.
 
Fear gives me speed. I told you then “Get out of my house, stop pleading. It's not your style. File me with people who've stopped needing your attention.”
 
Sunrise makes me sigh. I go to sleep for a while. Wake up again to remember that I've been in denial.
 
Postcards make me smile. I add them to the pile. Go to bed again and remember, I'll go to sleep in a while.

my son wore the green beret
 
Burning forests lit my evening sky. A broken promise to finally answer “Why?” Why all the hate and the spite and the sight of the late Mrs Hennessey, hanging from her balcony.
 
Burning villages on the evening news. Howling savages forcing you to choose - do we join in the fight (though we know it's not right) and shoot each other for bread, or are we better off dead.
 
My son wore the green beret. “Oh Mother,” he'd say, “I have done many terrible things in my day,” and I'd cradle his body as his soul made its way out through holes that were bloody and eyes that would fade out, as fever and gangrene and numbing drugs made this a final homecoming.
 
Burning questions fill my mind at night. Vague suggestions of something sharper and brighter than suns or explosions or bullets in motion across the capital, of when we once had it all.

nathan rosen (w/ david wright)
 
Well it seemed to me today that you were dreaming of a lifetime left alone and now there's nothing left to do but say goodbye, but you didn't want to go.
 
Please don't worry that you've been making me sad, because I've been sad for years. So you should save your tears. Save them for that eve when he threatens to leave. He'll play on your fears, and I would never do that.
 
Well it seemed to me today that you were dreaming of a lifetime left alone and now there's nothing left to do but say goodbye, but you didn't want to go.
 
You know I'd drive for miles just to see you smile. But now it's getting bleak, you haven't smiled for weeks. Married to a scientist, because he once got you pissed. And you were happy for a while but now you don't exist.
 
Well it seemed to me today that you were dreaming of a lifetime left alone and now there's nothing left to do but say goodbye, but you didn't want to go.

requesting balance
 
Your love love love fits me like a glove, I keep it on all day until it gets too hot. Because when Summer Summer Summer comes I know that you'll say that “When push comes to shove I'd like to stay, but I'll not.”
 
And now the Winter Winter Winter tries to give another hint of all the hours hours hours I'll be under the power of tears and rum and TV and pot. I'm not a young man any more in fact I never have been, I seemed to turn turn turn from a boy into a has-been.
 
And Spring Spring Spring tries to string another sentence to the ring of guitar notes and I'll get tense and I'll joke that I've got sex on the brain. And then I'll fall fall fall for you once again, for you once again, for you once again.
 
And you will cry when I call, saying “Let's get back to kissing.” And our love love love will fly up like a dove from the battered hat of a Vaudeville magician. Oh my love love love, your love love love, my love love love, your love love love.

declaration of independence
 
Under the tree there's a book and it's spread to the pages we looked at and the stories we read of those Hollywood people with fictional pasts, you'd get friction burn turning the pages too fast.
 
And who would have thought it but me? When you caught the Greyhound to the sea. And under the lights of the city nights, you found a fiction to be. And I hope that you're happy without me.
 
Under the house there's a basement we'd go when the places we went to were buried in snow. We could wait for the Summer all Winter down there, but you hated the way you felt numb with no sun in your hair.
 
And who would have thought it but me? When you caught the Greyhound to the sea. And under the clouds amongst city crowds, you found a fiction to be. And I hope that you're happy without me. Yeah I hope that you're happy without me.
 
I hope that you're happy. I hope that you're happier. I hope that you're happier without me.

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