by Jakob Dylan
I could break free from the wood of a coffin if I need
But nothing's as hard as getting free
From places I've already been
I've been waist-deep in the burning meadows of my mind
In the engine, in cold December
Shooting fire from the hose
Now turn off your lights
'Cause I'm not coming home
Till I'm delivered for the first time
I was first-born to a parade that follows in rows
Down a narrow, cold black river
Faceless shadows moving slow
I would move swift when the sounds of a trumpet would blow
I've been the puppet, I've been the strings
I know the vacant face it brings
Now the bells of curfew
They may ring before I'm through
But soon I'll be delivered for the first time
You might keep clean in the back of an angel motorcade
It doesn't matter who walks in
You know, the joke is still the same
You'll just wake up like a disposable lover, decomposed
I've been gone, I've been remembered
I've been alive, I've been a ghost
So now if downtown explodes
I'll still be on this road
Till I'm delivered for the first time
I have drawn blood from the neckline when vampires were in fashion
You know I'd even learn to cut my throat
If I thought I could fit in
'Cause I once heard that you gotta learn how to blend in to this mess
Where nothing's hard, nothing's precious
And nothing's smooth or flawless
Now no more amused
Just screaming to
Be delivered for the first time
Now I'm 10 miles in the deep and mighty blue sea
Looking back, towards a long white beach
Burning up into yellow flames
And I just wave back like a little boy up on a pony in a show
'Cause I can't fix something this complex
Any more than I can build a rose
So just keep on letting go
'Cause I must be close
To being delivered for the first time
Now I'd rather bleed out a long stream from being lonely and feel blessed
Than drown, laying face down
In a puddle of respect
I was once lost in the corridors of the arena in blindfolds
I've been the bull, I've been the whip
I just pulled down the matador
So now, turn on your lights
'Cause I'm coming home
I've been delivered for the first time
Thursday, July 7, 2011
I've Been Delivered
Labels: aging, melancholia, patience, surrealism, Wallflowers
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