Sure, I know that you are tired of hearing about it
But most repeat the same theme over and over again,
It’s as if they were trying to refine what seems so strange
And off and important to them.

It’s done by everybody
Because each must work out what is before them over and over again
Because that is their personal tiny miracle.
Like now as like before
And before I have been listening to symphony after symphony from this radio
It makes me realize that certain people now long dead
Were able to transgress graveyards and traps and cages and bones and limbs
In tiny rented rooms I was struck by miracles

The flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there
And sometimes a soul and the women break vases against the walls
And the men they drink too much
And nobody ever finds the one
But keep looking crawling in and out of beds.
Flesh covers the bone and the flesh searches for more than flesh.

There is a loneliness in this world 
So great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock
People so tired, mutilated, either by love or no love.
People just are not good to each other.
We are afraid.
Our educational system tells us that we can all be big winners
But it hasn’t told us about the gutters or the suicides.
Or the terror of one person aching in one place
Alone, untouched, and unspoken to.

People are not good to each other.
People are not good to each other.
I suppose they never will be.
I don’t ask them to be.
But sometimes I think about it.
There must be a way.
Surely, there must be a way

There’s no chance at all:
We are all trapped by fate.
Nobody ever finds the one.
Nobody ever finds the one.

There’s no chance at all:
We are all trapped by fate.
Who put this brain inside of me?
It says that there’s a chance.
It’s kept the rope from my throat
Maybe it will loosen yours.

The city dumps fill.
The junkyards fill.
The graveyards fill.

Nothing else fills. 
Nothing else fills.
Nothing else fills.


La Dispute - You and I in Unison

But if I still hear you singing in every city I meet
After I blur it all out, our every memory, if
You never fade with the days, your shape still haunting me then,
Should I not just sing along?
Should I not just sing along?

I will sing sweetly hope that the notes change but
I do not need it to happen. I’m not resigned to it. And
If they never do I’ll sing your name in every line.
Just like I did throughout this. Just like I’ve always done.
In every gun, the empty church, and every tortured son.
In all those giving up. In all those giving in.
Until I die I will sing our names in unison.

(Source: ericlodge, via keleighburke)


La Dispute - One

In the last quarter of the twentieth century, much of the world sat on the edge of an increasingly expensive theater seat waiting for something momentous to occur. Christian aficionados of the Second Coming scenario were convinced that, after two thousand years, the other shoe was about to drop. And five of the era’s best-known psychics predicted that Atlantis would soon reemerge from the depths. To this last, Princess Leigh-Cheri responded, “There are three lost continents…we are one: the lovers.” In whatever esteem one might hold Princess Leigh-Cheri’s thoughts, one must agree that the last quarter of the twentieth century was a severe period for lovers. It was a time a time when romantic relationships took on the character of ice in spring, stranding many little children on jagged and inhospitable floes. Nobody quite knew what to make of the moon anymore

Consider a certain night in August. The moon was so bloated it was about to tip over. For more than an hour, Leigh-Cheri stared into the sky. “Does the moon have a purpose?” She inquired. The same query put to the Remington SL3 typewriter elicited this response: Albert Camus wrote that the only serious question in life is whether to kill yourself or not. Tom Robbins wrote that the only serious question is whether time has a beginning and an end. Camus clearly got up on the wrong side of bed, and Robbins must have forgotten to set the alarm. There is only one serious question. And that is: Who knows how to make love stay? Answer me that and I will tell you whether or not to kill yourself. Answer me that and I will ease your mind about the beginning and end of time. Answer me that and I will reveal to you the purpose of the moon.