(no subject)
Accidental Death
You're obsessed with finding a new brain,
but what you need is a new body.
It feels your brain has lived a thousand lives before
and the skin you call your home
holds a heart that quits,
and knees that buckle in,
and lungs that can't breathe when they're alone.
And the days come to you like sailors;
you watch them as they drift away.
They meet the sunrise out at the horizon
and it's neither sink nor swim;
least the water's beneath your chin.
There's blood spilled on the floor.
Everyone's staring at you-- what for?
till you realize the blood is probably yours...
You feel you lost something. You want it back.
You're lying motionless on your back,
and your legs aren't taking anymore requests.
Those disobedient wrecks!
How you cared for them as they carried you
from class to class and coast to coast;
when you owed rent and you were broke,
through recessions and addictions.
It's just your accidental death;
your accidental death.
It's just your accidental death.
You're the indian in the cougar's nest.
Your fright gives way to memory;
having coffee with your love,
or the story your father told you long ago:
He was hunting with his own father
for deer. He pointed and spotted her,
then tripped over some roots or some dead trees.
The gun went off; it was a mistake
and my father was only eight.
And as he watched the dying deer, he was changed
'cause he felt sorry for what he'd done,
and then he put down his gun.
Will you feel sorry for what you've done?
Will you put down your gun?
It's just your accidental death;
your accidental death.
But there's no accidental death
when you're the indian in the cougar's nest.
It's just your accidental death;
your accidental death.
It's just your accidental death;
you're the indian in the cougar's nest.
A Better Son/Daughter
Sometimes in the morning I am petrified and can't move
awake but cannot open my eyes
and the weight is crushing down on my lungs I know I can't breath
and hope someone will help me this time
your mother's still calling you insane and high
swearing it's different this time
and you tell her to give in to the demons that possess her
and that godnever blessed her insides
then you hang up the phone and feel badly for upsetting things
and crawl back into bed to dream of a time
when your heart was open wide and you loved things just because
like the sick and the dying
and sometimes when you're on you're really fucking on
and your friends they sing along and they love you
but the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap
and it teases you for weeks in its absense
but you'll fight and you'll make it through
you'll fake it if you have to
and you'll show up for work with a smile
and you'll be be better you'll be smarter
more grown up and a better daughter
or son and a real good friend
and you'll be awake and you'll be alert
you'll be positive though it hurts
and you'll laugh and embrace all your friends
and you'll be a real good listener
you'll be honest you'll be brave
you'll be handsome you'll be beautiful
you'll be happy
your ship may be coming in
you're weak but not giving in
to the cries and the wails of the valley below
your ship may be coming in
you're weak but not giving in
and you'll fight it you'll go out fighting all of them...
You're obsessed with finding a new brain,
but what you need is a new body.
It feels your brain has lived a thousand lives before
and the skin you call your home
holds a heart that quits,
and knees that buckle in,
and lungs that can't breathe when they're alone.
And the days come to you like sailors;
you watch them as they drift away.
They meet the sunrise out at the horizon
and it's neither sink nor swim;
least the water's beneath your chin.
There's blood spilled on the floor.
Everyone's staring at you-- what for?
till you realize the blood is probably yours...
You feel you lost something. You want it back.
You're lying motionless on your back,
and your legs aren't taking anymore requests.
Those disobedient wrecks!
How you cared for them as they carried you
from class to class and coast to coast;
when you owed rent and you were broke,
through recessions and addictions.
It's just your accidental death;
your accidental death.
It's just your accidental death.
You're the indian in the cougar's nest.
Your fright gives way to memory;
having coffee with your love,
or the story your father told you long ago:
He was hunting with his own father
for deer. He pointed and spotted her,
then tripped over some roots or some dead trees.
The gun went off; it was a mistake
and my father was only eight.
And as he watched the dying deer, he was changed
'cause he felt sorry for what he'd done,
and then he put down his gun.
Will you feel sorry for what you've done?
Will you put down your gun?
It's just your accidental death;
your accidental death.
But there's no accidental death
when you're the indian in the cougar's nest.
It's just your accidental death;
your accidental death.
It's just your accidental death;
you're the indian in the cougar's nest.
A Better Son/Daughter
Sometimes in the morning I am petrified and can't move
awake but cannot open my eyes
and the weight is crushing down on my lungs I know I can't breath
and hope someone will help me this time
your mother's still calling you insane and high
swearing it's different this time
and you tell her to give in to the demons that possess her
and that godnever blessed her insides
then you hang up the phone and feel badly for upsetting things
and crawl back into bed to dream of a time
when your heart was open wide and you loved things just because
like the sick and the dying
and sometimes when you're on you're really fucking on
and your friends they sing along and they love you
but the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap
and it teases you for weeks in its absense
but you'll fight and you'll make it through
you'll fake it if you have to
and you'll show up for work with a smile
and you'll be be better you'll be smarter
more grown up and a better daughter
or son and a real good friend
and you'll be awake and you'll be alert
you'll be positive though it hurts
and you'll laugh and embrace all your friends
and you'll be a real good listener
you'll be honest you'll be brave
you'll be handsome you'll be beautiful
you'll be happy
your ship may be coming in
you're weak but not giving in
to the cries and the wails of the valley below
your ship may be coming in
you're weak but not giving in
and you'll fight it you'll go out fighting all of them...