A Bit of Memory
summer's almost on
the diamond days ahead
i can feel it
the need to immerse
to pull under its cover
its foggy haze
i can take it all in
and open the gate
throw sand in cracks
and watch it filter down
this is the end of the day
these are the times of our lives
talking, hoping
laying in wait
trying to stumble across something sensible.
all the boys tighten their belts and
stick it to each other.
who is on top?
and who is in place?
open the papers
and tell me the news
light up the pages
WAIT for tomorrow
climb down off that truck
Ignition:
charged up
screaming in the din
waiting for nothing
I REMEMBER EVERY WORD YOU SAID
each time we meet
I can't remember
yesterday
but I can remember
ten years ago
when nothing was important
and everything mattered
QUITE A CLEAR PICTURE
the back porch was so significant then
gleaming glasses on sunlit tables
green and gold and brown
you said nothing was important
and everything mattered
epic discussions
and then
I'd meet you in the bedroom
sliding across your body
late in the night
while they're talking next door
through thin walls
under low lights
meeting in the bedroom
and not speaking a word
a dead end world
of memory floods
ideas under water
wet as stones
all the machinery rusted
till nothing was left
our house itself raised
I set up a room on yr porch
it was summer by then
the cats slept in the middle of the driveway
the light shot straight through the pines
from Syracuse all the way to Binghampton
a room for me on yr porch
you danced around me in that room
the last time I really had friends
was the last time I really had none
a group without enmity, ended
they tore the house down
and tarred it over
Memory is an epic poem, an endless story, the details shifting in place. Hazy light on dim faces, photos turning gray. I need a fulcrum to lift each day now, to elevate need to a burning desire. I remember the pressing need, the longing, the beautiful empty feeling of wanting, of being incomplete. But that was long ago. I can't remember how it went. Now nothing matters, and everything, every damned thing, is important. Memories are forever backing up, mixing up, jumbled and unclear. All that I have left to strive for, each event these days, means less and less. And yet every damn thing is so important.
--Lee Ranaldo
the diamond days ahead
i can feel it
the need to immerse
to pull under its cover
its foggy haze
i can take it all in
and open the gate
throw sand in cracks
and watch it filter down
this is the end of the day
these are the times of our lives
talking, hoping
laying in wait
trying to stumble across something sensible.
all the boys tighten their belts and
stick it to each other.
who is on top?
and who is in place?
open the papers
and tell me the news
light up the pages
WAIT for tomorrow
climb down off that truck
Ignition:
charged up
screaming in the din
waiting for nothing
I REMEMBER EVERY WORD YOU SAID
each time we meet
I can't remember
yesterday
but I can remember
ten years ago
when nothing was important
and everything mattered
QUITE A CLEAR PICTURE
the back porch was so significant then
gleaming glasses on sunlit tables
green and gold and brown
you said nothing was important
and everything mattered
epic discussions
and then
I'd meet you in the bedroom
sliding across your body
late in the night
while they're talking next door
through thin walls
under low lights
meeting in the bedroom
and not speaking a word
a dead end world
of memory floods
ideas under water
wet as stones
all the machinery rusted
till nothing was left
our house itself raised
I set up a room on yr porch
it was summer by then
the cats slept in the middle of the driveway
the light shot straight through the pines
from Syracuse all the way to Binghampton
a room for me on yr porch
you danced around me in that room
the last time I really had friends
was the last time I really had none
a group without enmity, ended
they tore the house down
and tarred it over
Memory is an epic poem, an endless story, the details shifting in place. Hazy light on dim faces, photos turning gray. I need a fulcrum to lift each day now, to elevate need to a burning desire. I remember the pressing need, the longing, the beautiful empty feeling of wanting, of being incomplete. But that was long ago. I can't remember how it went. Now nothing matters, and everything, every damned thing, is important. Memories are forever backing up, mixing up, jumbled and unclear. All that I have left to strive for, each event these days, means less and less. And yet every damn thing is so important.
--Lee Ranaldo