The Weakerthans: Without Mythologies
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The Weakerthans: Without Mythologies
A soft breeze with the slippery concrete black and full of muddy slush,
contrasting with the hoarfrost,
clean and hung on a tunnel of silent shivering trees
(the ones you said you'd like to be),
and the birds that screamed at the sun
now buried deep below the ground,
beneath the snow, I press my shoulder to this wall between us.
I know you are behind me and I press my shoulder to this wall,
determined not to turn around.
I didn't see you standing,
still that statue that I molded in my mind to kiss,
so beautiful you'll never move again.
Someplace far away, at some sad table littered with chipped plates,
with bad light,
in 48 frames from a movie on the cutting room floor,
you said "True meaning would be dying with you",
and though I wanted to, I did not smile.
But now I will give up on this wall that I have fought with,
never uncover meaning behind our rich words.
If I could I would make you a raging river,
with angry rapids, supplied with rain,
so you could always meander
and forever be able to run away
without contending with myths wrongly interpreted, with pain.
A harsh wind.
A harsh wind.
contrasting with the hoarfrost,
clean and hung on a tunnel of silent shivering trees
(the ones you said you'd like to be),
and the birds that screamed at the sun
now buried deep below the ground,
beneath the snow, I press my shoulder to this wall between us.
I know you are behind me and I press my shoulder to this wall,
determined not to turn around.
I didn't see you standing,
still that statue that I molded in my mind to kiss,
so beautiful you'll never move again.
Someplace far away, at some sad table littered with chipped plates,
with bad light,
in 48 frames from a movie on the cutting room floor,
you said "True meaning would be dying with you",
and though I wanted to, I did not smile.
But now I will give up on this wall that I have fought with,
never uncover meaning behind our rich words.
If I could I would make you a raging river,
with angry rapids, supplied with rain,
so you could always meander
and forever be able to run away
without contending with myths wrongly interpreted, with pain.
A harsh wind.
A harsh wind.
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The Weakerthans: Without Mythologies
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The Weakerthans: Without Mythologies
-
Left And Leaving
- The Weakerthans
-
Elegy For Elsabet
- The Weakerthans
-
History To The Defeated
- The Weakerthans
-
Exiles Among You
- The Weakerthans
-
My Favourite Chords
- The Weakerthans
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