Menu Home

the magic in giving language to hidden things

There’s forest fire up in the hills again
Always reminds me of the night we spent at the river’s edge
For hours standing hand in hand
Too chicken shit to just go diving it
Too scared to turn away and face the fate that awaits us both back on land
Forest fire has a smell to it
A certain sweetness that misleads us to believe that everything’s well again
The summer’s sweltering
The kind of heat you feel inside your feet radiating upward from the earth within
If I was a smarter man I’d’ve never gave you momma’s wedding ring
I’d’ve went ahead and just pawned the thing
Skipped town and never called again
But your brain never listens to the songs that your heart’ll sing
I ain’t no Christian, that was momma’s thing
I don’t know how to pray and if I did I’m not too sure He’s listening
To me it’s whispering
I don’t know
Maybe there is some fucking magic in giving language to hidden things
Who are we kidding kid, we were just born into this
And what the hell would make us think that we were any different?
Your daddy did the same, my pops did it too
They came to the same spot asking that river for some clues
All they got was wet shoes
And they gave birth to me and you
So tell me darling
What the hell are we supposed to do?

Categories: Listening

Mark

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s