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ALBUMLIFTED or the Story Is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the GroundBright Eyes
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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Bright Eyes
Performer
Conor Oberst
Vocals
Mike Mogis
Mandolin
Andy LeMaster
Vocals
Jiha Lee
Flute
Clark Baechle
Drums
Matt Maginn
Bass
Katie Muth
Oboe
Clay Leverett
Drums
Clint Schnase
Drums
Matt Focht
Drums
Mike Sweeney
Drums
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Conor M Oberst
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Mike Mogis
Producer
Andy LeMaster
Producer
Lyrics
The rain it started tapping
On the window near my bed
There was a loophole in my dreaming
So I got out of it
And to my surprise my eyes were wide and already open
Just my night stand and my dresser
Where those nightmares had just been
So I dressed myself and left then
Out into the gray streets
But everything seemed different, and completely new to me
The sky the trees, houses, buildings, even my own body
And each person I encountered
I couldn't wait to meet
And I came upon a doctor
Who appeared in quite poor health
I said there's nothing that I can do for you, you can't do for yourself
He said, "Oh yes you can, just hold my hand, I think that, that would help"
So I sat with him awhile
Then I asked him how he felt
He said, I think I'm cured
No, in fact, I'm sure of it
Thank you, stranger
For your therapeutic smile
So, that's how I learned the lesson
That everyone's alone
And your eyes must do some raining
If you're ever gonna grow
And when crying don't help, you can't compose yourself
It's best to compose a poem
An honest verse of longing
Or a simple song of hope
That's why I'm singing, baby, don't worry
'Cause now I've got your back
And every time you feel like crying
I'm gonna try and make you laugh
And if I can't, if it just hurts too bad
Then we'll wait for it to pass
And I will keep you company for those days so long and black
And we'll keep working on the problem
We know we'll never solve
Of love's uneven remainders
Our lives are fractions of a whole
But if the world could remain within a frame
Like a painting on a wall
Then I think we'd see the beauty then
We'd stand staring in awe
At our still lives posed
Like a bowl of oranges
Like a story told
By the fault-lines and the soil
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Writer(s): Conor Oberst
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