Видео
Видео
Создатели
ИСПОЛНИТЕЛИ
J Mascis
Ситар
Stephen Pierce
Гитара
Ally Einbinder
Гитара
Sean Greene
Бас
Adam Reid
Барабаны
Gretchen Williams
Бэк-вокал
Fred Thomas
Синтезатор
МУЗЫКА И СЛОВА
Stephen Pierce
Автор песен
ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
Stephen Pierce
Продюсер
Carl Saff
Мастеринг-инженер
Justin Pizzoferrato
Инженер
Слова
Translate an open sky
Into language I can use
Meaning drifts like a mindless swarm,
And I pull stingers from my cheek
Sure it hurts, the quiet's worse
Like some burn-right-through-you stare
A paragraph, a spirit cat,
A presence sensed, not seen
So if it sneaks up sly and sudden,
Licks your ear and vanishes into the night,
It can hang out with my younger fears,
That once would wash away on dollar beers
It's like a fourth-hand rewrite of your favorite poem,
A kaleidoscopic mess
Or a rearrangement of a mountain range,
A quarry carved to dust
Should I miss the lines I ditched?
I know they're gone with yesterday
A first draft, a vague abstract,
Won't move the rolling sky
But I still see it in the shadows and
The scrub brush dotting wind-whipped traprock cliffs
Like some scribble in the margin,
Some subconscious fragment dying to be read
If I'm nervous about the ending,
Then I'm more so that the end will never come
Because I stumble over syntax,
And the meaning gets lost in tautologies
Are the lines laced with survivor's guilt,
Is a manuscript a graveyard of ideas?
Does it figure out the hallway's creaks
And the way the flaking plaster speaks my name?
You see, it varies by translation,
Whether answer or abstraction,
And it's not so much creation
As it's something finally being laid to rest.
Written by: Stephen Pierce


