Spinning
Click to viewPicking up sound on the interstate,
I am my breath, letting in waves.
There will be time when the sleep
I'm in covers me whole, covers me thin.
I know I'll wake up old,
forgetting which box this is in.
How I will keep you just how I left you.
Our daughter once told me I know a lot.
Now I'm strutting off with more than I've got.
A hitchhiker told me I don't talk a lot.
It made me feel fine, made me quiet.
If you'd of said it right
instead of painting words white
How I will keep you just how I left you.
Come on, say it right.
I love this song. It's so visual. I just imagine him dreaming, and walking along the interstate, and the wind flowing into his lungs, long and full. But it's not just the wind, it's like it's the whole world, it's the sound of the way the world works, in and out, in rythmic strokes. In and out.
He's crawling out of a spiderweb, and his face folds and wrinkles and cries with the movement. He touches it, he can't find himself, he can't find the papers, the box.
She becomes to him only what he can remember of her.
He's walking, and he's becoming to others, what they think of him. His listening to the world and he
becomes what he hears, he believes it and he becomes what he hears.