(no subject)
I did something I do every now and then, take all the music on my computer, all on one playlist, and press random three times. Then the song I got I find the lyrics to and study them and think about it for a while. I really like this song, it's an old favourite.
Make War
By Bright Eyes
Our love is dead, but without limit, like the surface of the moonor the land the land between here and the mountains. Well it is not these hiding places that have kept us innocent, but the way you taught me to just let it all go by. So we've learned to be as faithless, stand behind bullet-proof glass, exchanging our affections through a drawer. And it was always horribly convenient and happening too fast, you should count your change before you're even out the door. Yes, you should, but please return, return, to the person that you were and I'll do the same because it's hard to belong to someone who is gone. My compass spins, the wilderness remains. Well once too often I've retreated into the depths of my despair, I built a barricade to block you on the road. But standing there with all of my possessions piled higher than a house, I felt closer to you than you ever could have known. So let these tiny acts of charity become common ground on which to build a monument to commemorate our time. And though you say you've found another who will surely speed you on your way, don't let the forest grow over that path you came here by. But you will so hurry up and run to the one that you love and blind him with your kindness. And he will make war, old war, on who you were before and claim all that has spoiled in your heart. Well, now I tell myself I've mended under these patches of blue sky, there are still a few holes that let in a little rain. So it's crying on my shingles, the floor boards moan under my feet, the refidgerator's whining, so I've got reason to complain. But I'm not going to bless you with such compliments, some degrading psalm of praise, like the kind that converted you to me so long ago. Because the truth is that gossip's as good as gospel in this town, you can save face but you won't ever save your soul, and that's a fact. So hurry up and run to the one that you love, and tie him up in your likeness, and he'll become, become the prisoner I was, and know all that has spoiled in your heart, he'll know all that has spoiled in your heart. So hurry up and run to the one that you love and blind him with your kindness, and he'll make war, old war, on who you were before, and claim all that has spoiled in your heart. Yeah, he'll claim all that has spoiled in your heart...
Make War
By Bright Eyes
Our love is dead, but without limit, like the surface of the moonor the land the land between here and the mountains. Well it is not these hiding places that have kept us innocent, but the way you taught me to just let it all go by. So we've learned to be as faithless, stand behind bullet-proof glass, exchanging our affections through a drawer. And it was always horribly convenient and happening too fast, you should count your change before you're even out the door. Yes, you should, but please return, return, to the person that you were and I'll do the same because it's hard to belong to someone who is gone. My compass spins, the wilderness remains. Well once too often I've retreated into the depths of my despair, I built a barricade to block you on the road. But standing there with all of my possessions piled higher than a house, I felt closer to you than you ever could have known. So let these tiny acts of charity become common ground on which to build a monument to commemorate our time. And though you say you've found another who will surely speed you on your way, don't let the forest grow over that path you came here by. But you will so hurry up and run to the one that you love and blind him with your kindness. And he will make war, old war, on who you were before and claim all that has spoiled in your heart. Well, now I tell myself I've mended under these patches of blue sky, there are still a few holes that let in a little rain. So it's crying on my shingles, the floor boards moan under my feet, the refidgerator's whining, so I've got reason to complain. But I'm not going to bless you with such compliments, some degrading psalm of praise, like the kind that converted you to me so long ago. Because the truth is that gossip's as good as gospel in this town, you can save face but you won't ever save your soul, and that's a fact. So hurry up and run to the one that you love, and tie him up in your likeness, and he'll become, become the prisoner I was, and know all that has spoiled in your heart, he'll know all that has spoiled in your heart. So hurry up and run to the one that you love and blind him with your kindness, and he'll make war, old war, on who you were before, and claim all that has spoiled in your heart. Yeah, he'll claim all that has spoiled in your heart...