I remembered it....
It's called Pink Bullets by The Shins, whom I foolishly stopped listening to when they became popular. I'm sorry.
I was just bony hands as cold as a winter pole
you held a warm stone out new flowing blood to hold
oh what a contrast you were
to the brutes in the halls
my timid young fingers held a decent animal.
Over the ramparts you tossed
the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
tied to a brick
sweet as a song
the years have been short but the days were long.
Cool of a temperate breeze from dark skies to wet grass
we fell in a field it seems now a thousand summers passed
when our kite lines first crossed
we tied them into knots
and to finally fly apart
we had to cut them off.
Since then it's been a book you read in reverse
you understand less as the pages turn
or a movie so crass
and awkardly cast
that even I could be the star.
I don't look back much as a rule
and all this way before murder was cruel
but your memory is here and I'd like it to stay
warm light on a winters day.
Over the ramparts you tossed
the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
tied to a brick
sweet as a song
the years have seemed short but the days go slowly by
two loose kites falling from the sky
drawn to the ground and an end to flight.
I apologize if I owe you a b-day card a phone call a text message an e-mail or a hug or a trip to visit you. I've been on the edge of the knife that is sanity.
Next comes the hard part.
I get to find out what it's like to give up GASh. I don't know how to be me anymore. Just me keeping other people together.
To those who made it through a first holiday without someone you love there with you... I thought of you throughout the season. There's a b-day card for someone wending it's way through the mail. A letter to another, long and written on crumpled paper, tha back of one sheet a list you wrote.
How do you let someone you love make a terrible mistake? I can't. I have to. Because she'll have no one else after that maybe to hold her hand at the fallout and make cocoa and do what I always do. I used to say that I enjoyed taking care of and helping people work through their life issues because it distracted me from my own, but there's more to it than that.
I want to go jump in the lake. But I already took an obscene amount of time typing this (and correcting as I go) because my body is numb with cold. I think a mug of hot water and some sleep maybe.
No matter what I do now, it does not affect my past. I won't know how the future goes until I get there and live it as the present. So I must stop making these sainted missions of torture for myself.
I was just bony hands as cold as a winter pole
you held a warm stone out new flowing blood to hold
oh what a contrast you were
to the brutes in the halls
my timid young fingers held a decent animal.
Over the ramparts you tossed
the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
tied to a brick
sweet as a song
the years have been short but the days were long.
Cool of a temperate breeze from dark skies to wet grass
we fell in a field it seems now a thousand summers passed
when our kite lines first crossed
we tied them into knots
and to finally fly apart
we had to cut them off.
Since then it's been a book you read in reverse
you understand less as the pages turn
or a movie so crass
and awkardly cast
that even I could be the star.
I don't look back much as a rule
and all this way before murder was cruel
but your memory is here and I'd like it to stay
warm light on a winters day.
Over the ramparts you tossed
the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
tied to a brick
sweet as a song
the years have seemed short but the days go slowly by
two loose kites falling from the sky
drawn to the ground and an end to flight.
I apologize if I owe you a b-day card a phone call a text message an e-mail or a hug or a trip to visit you. I've been on the edge of the knife that is sanity.
Next comes the hard part.
I get to find out what it's like to give up GASh. I don't know how to be me anymore. Just me keeping other people together.
To those who made it through a first holiday without someone you love there with you... I thought of you throughout the season. There's a b-day card for someone wending it's way through the mail. A letter to another, long and written on crumpled paper, tha back of one sheet a list you wrote.
How do you let someone you love make a terrible mistake? I can't. I have to. Because she'll have no one else after that maybe to hold her hand at the fallout and make cocoa and do what I always do. I used to say that I enjoyed taking care of and helping people work through their life issues because it distracted me from my own, but there's more to it than that.
I want to go jump in the lake. But I already took an obscene amount of time typing this (and correcting as I go) because my body is numb with cold. I think a mug of hot water and some sleep maybe.
No matter what I do now, it does not affect my past. I won't know how the future goes until I get there and live it as the present. So I must stop making these sainted missions of torture for myself.