LYRICS=
In passing through... I see
the brief crystal flames of a chandelier
in the uptown vacuous
death mask soiree
of all the remembering that won’t go away
These little lives are detached from mine
by the smell of cabbage soup
weaving through a cheap hotel
on a cold and empty Moscow night
below me... through the window
and over the wing
I see all these places and... something... something
some thing
They are... themselves... a world
of encompassing presence
of jackboots and horns...
before it was already or
waiting to happen in
explosions and screams
The sounds of feet running
The sounds of mortar and rocks...
tumbling through air, and
falling in the aftermath of
bit by bit
I see the clustered villages in sky-high Tibet
and the marketplace of music, and then I forget
South Africa is going mad and dumber by the day,
and then the crosses and the bodies go away
and Singapore is Singapore with the pulsing
Singapore Grip
The China Girl is dreaming of
millions upon millions of lives that are stretched
from bubble-wrapped envelopes
to cellophane-wrapped glitter
each envelope is a world
looking down into a shitter
each bubble is a town
of selective presence
of getting up and getting down
and... of itself... a thing apart
apart but still connected
to everything that is the rest of everything
in some unchanging way
Love and sorrow everywhere
The searching people found
not what they were looking for
They had not thought to check
and call ahead to hold it for...
what turned into regret,
and more and more regret,
running alongside of them,
and haven’t found out yet.
They are... themselves... a world
of encompassing presence
of jackboots and horns
before it was already or
waiting to happen in...
explosions and screams.
The sounds of feet running
The sounds of mortar and rocks
tumbling through air, and...
falling in the aftermath of
bit by bit
The carousel turns
while the chips are scattered,
on the burning varicose baise,
where people too selfish to share...
have kept all the misery for themselves
It’s Christmas every day... you know?
for Santa’s giving elves
An elegant woman slouches,
and gives the ancient stare
Ten thousand years of mystery and longing...
accommodation and regret...
and still haven’t got it yet
I can see all human history
waving from her eyes
plunder... compliance and...
of course... sacrifice
they go arm-in-arm
lock stepped in the sequencing
of connecting sad events
one person shattered into billions
of fragments of a mirror
thrown... dropped... or smashed?
we cannot know
the light plays off of everything
everywhere at once
The shadow waits... always beneath the surface,
and between the shards of what they were
because...
They are... themselves... a world
of encompassing presence,
of jackboots and horns,
before it was already or...
waiting to happen in
explosions and screams
The sounds of feet running
The sounds of mortar and rocks
tumbling through air, and...
falling in the aftermath of
bit by bit
All this I saw as I was passing
through a particular touching...
forgetting...
and changing of moods and impressions
over miles and miles of highway.
with everything different behind.
More and more different
all... the... time...
as memory adapts
to the desire to remember things;
fonder and more lovely than before.
fonder and less tragic than before.
fonder and more lovely than before,
fonder and... I can’t remember anymore.
Something... something...
I can’t remember anymore.
