Coming up roses
My darling, I just can't believe it's true, but I have to let you go because you wouldn't let me go. I can't believe that it's lasted this long, with the way that I treat you (or at least how you say I do). When I dug you up, you didn't look so good, but I cleaned you up like I said I would, and everything was coming up roses.
My darling, you wear so much makeup, but it doesn't cover you, or the scars I gave to you. But you hurt me too. You hurt me so bad. My friends told me so, and that's how I know. When I painted you, you were looking faint, so I touched you up with some crimson paint, and everything was coming up roses.
And now you're gone. I don't know what I'll do. I'll always miss your touch (and some of that other stuff). But I'll get by, I'll get through. It was only my heart you took. You left my little black book. When I buried you, you looked your best, and now my flowers are blooming and you're getting your rest. And everything was coming up roses.
Before the beating starts
I dropped a bomb after the war was over. I sold my stocks three days after the crash. I fell in love but my heart was already broken. I got an appetite when my lunch was in the trash. I found God deep down in the inferno. Joined the race when my tank was out of gas. Lord knows I should pull myself together, but the devil knows that time's already passed.
And in a cruel twist of fate I met my true love three days late. She'd found another tender lover, so much like me he could be my brother. So I'm buckling down, trying to make her come around. A few choice words or perhaps a murder, and I'll break their hearts before the beating even starts.
I split the tides but the ship was already sailing. I raised the dead after the rot set in. I split the loaves but they'd all brought their own lunches, and I gave my life after they set me free.
Don't they look so happy? I want to take a little for myself. And you know I hate to spout these cliches, but I can't cook her breakfast without breaking some legs.
It seems I spend my time either tripping over my tongue or choking on yours, my love. And I don't think that glass shoes look good on anyone, my love. Time to leave, I think.
Fletcher Christian, spending time in the sun. His captain drifts away. He's miles away from home. So long, Marianne, I'm going on holiday. Don't drink from the sea. It'll dry you more than it'll wet you.
And I can't stop hearing about this place I heard about. This beach with bright pink shells.
Wendy darling ties me down. My winged feet, both flat on the ground. She sews my shadow to my soles. The lost boys have all been found.
If this is the only way, I'll try to let it be. I trust you when you say that you know what's best for me. A boat made from polished glass, with sky blue sails flown from the mast, began to drift away from the place I called my home. As all the children waved goodbye, I didn't feel the need to cry, but I have to say I've never felt so old.
Wendy darling drags me home, followed by a ticking crocodile, with a winding sheet to keep me warm, and pennies to keep the sun out of my eyes.
When she smiles, I think of you. When I lay her down I try to do all of those things that you loved. When she moans, it takes me back to all the times I told you that there'd be nobody but you. I've always been faithful to you, in my own way.
Of all the girls I've loved and tossed, you're the only one that I think of on those rare nights that I sleep alone. If that strikes you as a tad unclean, you'll be glad to know that when I dream, I don't think of you much at all. I've always been faithful to you, in my own way.
And every week I put a little note and a big check in an envelope. There's a mailbox right outside my door. I lick the seal so tenderly. I put on more stamps than it really needs. I'd still do it if it wasn't the law. I've always been faithful to you, in my own way.
I've Always Been Faithful
My! I saw you dressing. My oh my. I saw you bare. I froze like water, water to ice, and I tried to lower my eyes. And then you saw me! My oh my. And you smiled. And I melted as the temperature rose. You pulled me in, and slammed the door closed.
I am overwhelmed, and I'm overdressed. I keep thinking that you just haven't thought this through, and you're throwing your love all over me like so much confetti.
Why has your mood changed? Why, oh why? What's wrong? You say you've got a question, and my heart just sinks. Can this be what I think? And then you say to me:
"I'm overwhelmed and I'm underdressed. I keep thinking that you just haven't thought this through, and you're throwing your love all over me like so much confetti."
And so we made this strange parade.
So Much Confetti
When the city fell, we were lying in a country meadow. We were halfway home before we knew. When we reached the walls, we saw roses in the rocky ruins. Bird's nests in the hood of dead cars. And inside our home, all our things were in their places, our letters stacked in wooden cases. Your rings were left untouched. These things that seemed to small to notice held strong while the world fell away.
So let us speak of all the wreckage, and the love that grows in the strangest places. If the world is too hard to plant our roots in, I'll grow out of you and you can grow out of me.
Sometimes it crushes me when my vision's blocked by preacher's towers; their words turning the air sour. Or when I'm in a room, surrounded by these dead, dead faces, just trying to catch a glimpse of you. And then I see your face, and I hear the thoughts behind what's spoken. I find a use for all the broken. When our eyes meet, I walk through walls like they're paper, and move to a rhythm separate from the drum.
And, after the flood, I woke to the wind. I emptied my room, I packed all my things, and I left without locking the door. I walked from my house, watching my feet as they splashed in the puddles still filling the streets, and I smiled, and I didn't look back
And morning comes now. The water's shallow. And colours are filling the sky.
I walked through the streets full of broken glass, and the larks made a nest in the hole in my hat, and the ants made home in my shoes. My legs felt like stones, and looked like stilts. My teeth crunched like I'd eaten a mouthful of sand, maybe from savage lands, maybe from an English beach.
I remember paddling. I wish you did too. I am sorry that you fell, but I suppose that's the way it goes.
And on the outside of town, I found an empty house. I slowly walked in, I sat on the couch, and I cried at a couple dancing on the TV.
After The Flood
The girls are holding hands in a circle, laughing and sneezing and then falling down. The boys are building traps in the chimney, while their parents are buying Christmas presents in town.
You walk to the Volcano dressed in grey. I thought I might follow you.
Delilah is treating her new friend Rapunzel to a makeover at her beauty salon. And St. George is out slaying dragons, but children still sleep with their night lights.
There are poppies growing through the cracks in the pavement, and flower shops on every avenue. And the ladies are out buying red roses for their husbands with their beards of blue.
The Volcano Song
I stood by the sea, waiting for the ship to take me, on the bone white sand, holding out my hands. The ivory sky bleeds into the sea. My eyes went blind, but I can still see. I can see.
And the wind ceased to blow, the emerald sea no longer flowed, and the angels shook the land, but I managed to stand. The ivory sky bleeds into the sea. My eyes went blind, but I can still see. I can see.
When I woke up, the sky was burned, and through the smoke the ship returned, and behind the sky, as trumpets blew, I saw another sky, and another sky, and another sky.