Silver Moons

Confetti floats away like dead leaves in the wagon's wake. There were parties here in my honor until you sent me away. Now silver moons belong to you. Passing the baton from the old mare to the fawn - it was out of line but it was fun - and didn't you love the part right before the dawn? But now silver moons belong to you. I'm off to the ballet, and to practice all these ancient ways. Tell the new kids where I hid the wine, tell their fathers that I'm on my way, and say "Hey, maybe these days are over now..." And I loved it better than anyone else, you know. I believe in growing old with grace. I believe she only loved my face. I believe I acted like a child making faces at acquired tastes. And now silver moons belong to you...

Gone are the days bonfires make me think of you. Looks like the prophecy came true: You are a fallen tree. He is a fallen tree. "How old are you?" "No, how old are you?"

Under all the folds of the dresses that you wear there's an ocean and a tide and a riot in the square. Over are the days that the congas made your hair sway around to the cadence of your 'hey-oh-hey-oh' cheer... Under all the folds of the dresses that you wear you sway around to the cadence of your voice when you sang there.

Idiot Heart

Stay away from open windows, and put the telephone down. Can you run as fast as this house will fall when the alarm bell sounds? No, I was never much of a dancer, but I know enough to know you've got to move your idiot body around, and that you can't settle down until the idiot in your blood settles down. So move around... If I found you in this city called Paradise, I'd say, "I love you, but I hate this city, and I'm no prize." You want to walk around like you own the joint, the way that Icarus thought he might own the sky. I say, "You can't settle down until the Icarus in your blood, in your blood, drowns... And if I was a horse, I would throw up the reins if I was you."

But look at you go (into the fire-star). Look at you go (you are a meteor). Look at you go...

And you know your heart, and you know your heart... but it's an idiot heart. And you know your heart, and you know your heart... but you can't settle down. No, you can't settle down. So just move around...

I hope that you died in a decent pair of shoes, you've hot a lot of long walking to do, where you're going to...

Apollo and the Buffalo and Anna Anna Anna Oh!

The buffalo have given up on the world. And Apollo? Apollo is kissing all the valley girls. We climbed up the cross on the mountain on New Year's Eve: It was just god, the blizzard, the dream-weaver and me. My god I miss the way we used to be. Here's a photograph for you to hold. It's my picture right before I got old. It's a picture of a buffalo that we rode into extinction. That was the crime we committed in the night... Apollo, I heard your sister is equated with the moon, but I think your sister is just another run-around Sue. And where have you been, Erato? Because it's been a long time since we sat around the willow tree fire, where Anna played guitar and the rest of us fell in love. That was back before she changed her name. Will we ever find our way into Cassandra's gaze again? Like the days before Anna changed her name? Here's a photograph for you to hold... It's a picture of the prize, you hunter...

Anna, Anna, Anna, Oh! Why'd you change your name?

Black Swan

There was a black swan outside the palace - it was appointed by the king. People took it as a sign that he needed more time, but you said, "I ain't afraid of no blackbird." There was a rumor of a ghost in the bedroom - hanging in and around the bed - but by the time the moon rose, you has taken off your clothes and had the pillow under your head. There was the face you saw above you in the fever of a hot black dream, but it was made out of paper and glue, and you were hoping for something a little more realistic. You were hoping for the head of the queen.

My heart is a kingdom where the king is a heart, and my heart is king... My heart is a kingdom where the king is a heart, and my heart is king, the king of hearts.

There was the matador who said he would have you, if you could only give it up and walk away. He has carved out an avenue for you, from the palace to the palisades. But now it's half destroyed, and you are half destroyed. I see you running down a washed out road. I see you running between the dream and the void.

There was a rumor of a ghost in the bedroom - hanging in and around the bed - but by the time the moon rose, you has taken off your clothes and had the pillow under your head. You got mascara all of the bed sheets! You got mascara all over your clothes! You got mascara making broken-hearted shapes on your face, and you have yet to see the ghost.

Paper Lace

I heard you're suffering. Come be a wild thing. Come run with Jackie, me, and this lady. The stupid house you made fell away like paper lace. Come run with Jackie, me, and this lady. And when you're done crying to everyone you can go back to your good home. She will be tired, but she'll be glad, when you go back to your good home. Paper burns and paper fades. Paper crumples into ugly shapes. Come run with Jackie, me, and this lady. And when you're done crying to everyone you can go back to your good home... And when she's done dancing with everyone she will go back to your good home. She will be tired from loving everyone, but she'll be glad that you're back home.

But for now, until you're home, you ride with us. There was no way you could have known about the things she didn't know she couldn't trust. Oh, sanctuary... Oh, what's in the world? What's in the hearts of pretty girls? There's nothing left inside the room you filled with lion skins and laurels. Those were good ideas, but they weren't diamonds and pearls.

You go on Ahead (Trumpet, trumpet II)

You go on ahead for a while. I would like to follow you a while.... I would like to just follow you a while. I'd like to watch the white flash of your heels as they take turns breaking the desert heat, to beckon me in languages I've never learned. I'd like to have you navigate to hills where no musicians live, and on the way decide what 'bendings' of your will you're willing to forgive. And I'd like to think the actors never banded. I'd like to throw this trumpet down and go on empty handed. I'd like to think I am not one of them, but I know I am, so I'd like to just follow you a while.

When me and the boys were out we killed a thousand butterflies, so I put their wings into my mouth and said a prayer for our safe arrival. Then a big black car crossed our path, and I wondered whether or not that shit was empty.

See the sirens and the lizards flick their tongues behind the stage. See the actor keep a ritual to keep them all at bay. He would like to come home naked without war paint on his face, and appear before you virgin white if virgins are still chaste. So wait, you've got to wait... you've got to wait for me. I'll appear before you virgin white if virgins are still chaste, then I'd like to just follow you a while.

And if there are two eyes in my head, there are four seasons in a year, and reflections on the water of a burning yellow sphere. And the days add up to weeks, add up to months, and add up, and add up... to years. And if reflections on the water sometimes look like burning tears, we can watch them changing shape without pushing off the pier.

Nightingale / December Song

So let me hammer this point home: I see us all as lonely fires that have burned alive as long as we remember. But like all fireworks and all sunsets, we all burn in different ways: You are a fast explosion, and I am the embers. And though your flames are quick and mean, they will not last the year, but expire like a sudden falling star, that only nightingales had seen, before migrating to southern jungles. And in this way you will come find me in December.

He said he'd like to move to Nashville to master the guitar, where he would live a single day the way I live a single year. He covered his body in mud, went hunting for the sun, and then went swimming in a lake of holy water. You are too hot for me. I am too slow for you. You are a fast explosion and I am the embers. You need the one who slowly burns, and burns to stay alive. In this way you will come find me in December

So let me hammer this point home: I see us all as lonely fires that have burned alive as long as we remember. But like all sacrificial virgins, we all burn in different ways: You are a fast explosion, and I am the embers. And though your flames are quick and mean, they will not last the year, but expire like a sudden shooting star, that only nightingales had seen, before transforming into bluebirds. And in this way you will come find me in December.

Dragon's Lair

I'm sorry that I'm late. I went blind. I got confetti in my eyes. I was held up at yesterday's parties. I was needed on the Congo line. But my dear, oh, my dear, I'd like to fight the good fight for another couple of years. Because to say the war is over is to say you are a widow. And you're not a widow yet...

So this one's for the critics and their disappointed mothers, and for the cupid and the hunter shooting arrows at each other: Ain't no such thing as a saint, ain't no such thing as a sinner. But there's a swan among the pigeons of Barcelona's floor. There's a Samson with Delilahs lining up outside the door. If you are sharpening your scissors, I am sharpening my scissors, and I am sharpening my sword. So you can take me to the dragon's lair, or you can take me to Rapunzel's windowsill. Either way it is time for a bigger kind of kill.

I see your face when I close my eyes. I see the muscles in your legs from the way you always rise to the occasion of catching things that fall, like the statuettes on pedestals I tend to build to tall. But I have navigated Iceland, I laid my claim on Portugal, and I have seen into the wasteland of the future of us all. And I kicked up a whole country of dead, dead leaves last fall...

Seen from the back of a train I rode away from your station, they drifted in the air like memoirs of old conversations, sprung from a leather case you opened in the wind, to watch the papers chase each other into oblivion.

You're such a champion. I hide behind your sun. You are the champion... So you can take me to the dragon's lair, or you can take me to Rapunzel's windowsill. Either way it is time for a bigger kind of kill...

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