Song Of Myself

歌詞

1. From A Dusty Bookshelf 2. All That Great Heart Lying Still The nightingale is still locked in the cage The deep breath I took still poisons my lungs An old oak sheltering me from the blue Sun bathing on its dead frozen leaves A catnap in the ghost town of my heart She dreams of storytime and the river ghosts Of mermaids, of Whitman's and the Ride Raving harlequins, gigantic toys A song of me a song in need Of a courageous symphony A verse of me a verse in need Of a pure-heart singing me to peace All that great heart lying still and slowly dying All that great heart lying still on an angelwing All that great heart lying still In silent suffering Smiling like a clown until the show has come to an end What is left for encore Is the same old Dead Boy's song Sung in silence All that great heart lying still and slowly dying All that great heart lying still on an angelwing A midnight flight into Covington Woods A princess and a panther by my side These are Territories I live for I'd still give my everything to love you more 3. Piano Black A silent symphony A hollow opus #1, 2, 3 Sometimes the sky is piano black Piano black over cleansing waters Resting pipes, verse of bore Rusting keys without a door Sometimes the within is piano black Piano black over cleansing waters All that great heart lying still and slowly dying All that great heart lying still on an angelwing 4. Love I see a slow, simple youngster by a busy street, with a begging bowl in his shaking hand. Trying to smile but hurting infinitely. Nobody notices. I do, but walk by. An old man gets naked and kisses a model-doll in his attic. It's half-light and he's in tears. When he finally comes his eyes are cascading. I see a beaten dog in a pungent alley. He tries to bite me. All pride has left his wild drooling eyes. I wish I had my leg to spare. A mother visits her son, smiles to him through the bars. She's never loved him more. An obese girl enters an elevator with me. All dressed up fancy, a green butterfly on her neck. Terribly sweet perfume deafens me. She's going to dinner alone. That makes her even more beautiful. I see a model's face on a brick wall. A statue of porcelain perfection beside a violent city kill. A city that worships flesh. The 1st thing I ever heard was a wandering man telling his story It was you, the grass under my bare feet The campfire in the dead of the night The heavenly black of sky and sea