Just get in line. There are brave men waiting on the other side, and I have too long claimed what is not mine. Ten golden hours pass me quickly by. Maybe I'm too wise to know, or ask why I am alone here as the sun goes down. You have spent your younger lifetime in this quiet town, and you know every street and sound.
Marigold, you're not the only one. I have seen your shoals and flowers in the sun.
You could be a part of those hollow lines in the summer dark. Wrapped in silk and brine, then torn apart. But you should know by now your place outside the skyline's metal stars.
Oh Marigold, don't believe you're getting old before it comes to pass. We can lay our Sunday blankets on the overpass, and forget what we've been told.
Marigold, you're not the only one. I have seen your shoals and flowers in the sun.
Marigold, you're not the only one.
You turn me out into blood's black space, negative. With the words that I have been running with. Into the Arabian summer, salted like water. In a blind scented glow. Please be kind. Let me go.
You're the only one I love, in the wild nights I'm dreaming of. With your ink-black orphaned eyes, they have sold you out for the final time.
You spin me round, like a ship gone down in the Baltic Sea, and now all drowned men are a part of me. The cold sidereal sunrise in the hollows of your eyes.
You're the only one I love, in the wild nights I'm dreaming of. With your ink-black orphaned eyes, they have sold you out for the final time.
You call it out of me, and into the sea these waters flow. Do you think I'd rather be some cruel and petty thing? Oh lover... don't you know? I'd rather be an old umbrella - wire, silk and fallen leaves. Like a broken cigarillo, draped from old man autumn's teeth. Or the wake of an ocean liner, lapping at the harbor trees.
And I know better men, and they won't do you no wrong. They're so kind, and so calm. Let me know when it hurts, because for what it is worth... I don't give a god damn whether I was the first, and if you leave me behind, well, at least you were mine for a while.
And these kids they don't know what some blind holy rose has gifted upon our wild shelter. From the black coal outside, to your wandering eyes, to the thorn in the side of the dancer. But by the morning's new dawn, when mad history's gone, hear the echoes that vanish behind us. In the fancy moonlight, tangled visions ignite, and the mute soon shall fall to the briars.
There in the arms of your shaking breath, we shake together. There in the arms of your shaking breath. Where will you go when the crazy light's coming to you? Where will you go in the crazy light?
It's summertime, and I'm leaving New York. Pull me through the black heart of Rhode Island. I am the one who's been pressed in white flowers. Cover me over in milk and ash.
In the black of the night, with those racing cars running through you. In the black of the night in that sea of stars. We walked to the shore, over Beacon Hill, through Death's Valley. My Red Queen of Autumn in pearls and rags.
My Red Queen of Autumn, Red Queen of Autumn. Silver and calamine, hold me back.
It's summertime and I'm leaving New York. Pull me through the black heart of Rhode Island.
TURPENTINE WATER
My blood is a tyrant, a black hearted siren. Crows on the lawn again. She sings like a theremin. Turpentine water. Our little daughter. Blue as the dawn again... she's blue as the dawn.
Blackbird, be still. But willow, go farther. Pulled the veil off of my world. Watched it twist in the dark water.
Now hot air warms my skin, at the Valero in the desert wind. The whole world is a blow-dryer.
Kindness is hard, but hardness ain't wiser. And the willow goes far, but my blackbirds go farther.
BIG PAPA DADDY
Will I be a young man in the nighttime? Because I feel like an old man in the daylight. And lined up in my car, all my creatures in their killing jars. I'll take them all out to the sea, to make the mountains sick with jealousy.
But I am no more Orphan! My Big Papa Daddy's come along. I am no more Orphan! My Big Papa Daddy's come along. Yeah, my Big Papa Daddy's come along.
And he's riding out on a wicker shell, and he hates the world that you're wishing well, in its high and bitter glow. Oh, but daddy... he don't know.
Life is not all. What they tell you is not so.
And the Angels in their cars, with their creatures in their killing jars. Some have come all by themselves, with lines they shared with no one else. Saying: "I am no more Orphan! My Big Papa Daddy's come along. Well, I am no more Orphan! My Big Papa Daddy's come along. Yeah, my Big Papa Daddy's come along".
SILVERY SKIES
Well, I ain't in it for the money. I just wanna see those good times roll. One day Susie stops pretending... Tells me love ain't blind, but baby, love is cold.
In the scarlet wagon of the world tonight, distended fortune seems so small and far. I took Miss Andy's portrait by the riverside. Down Sunset Strip, just like a wandering star.
To be washed out by the tide, under those silvery skies. Life is short, but it's wide.
Now Sara can't eat when she ain't sleeping right. My words can't tell her nothing she don't know. Busy and hazel-faced, and milky eyed. Out on the boardwalk in that gunpowder glow.
All washed out and denied. My girl, with blood in her eyes. The bride of a buffalo. Warm Saint Anna wrapped in winter clothes. Alone again, in sickness or in slaughter. Drag those rags across the sun. One for boredom, one for ardor. Let us be what's been undone.
JEREMY SONG
Jeremy walked in as I brushed past those starry island lights. We walked on water that night, ocean and moonlight in your eyes. I fell asleep while wandering. Montana rain soaked through my hair. I woke confused and asked him: "man, am I here or am I there?"
He said: "those dark winds of winter can blow heavy and slow. Take the sharp end of your next breath and let me lay in the snow."
Now out in the desert, we rode through high noon sun, time hung and still. Until waves of Cuban swallows cast sore-winged shadows on the hills. I am a better man now. Friend to all beasts of sun and sand. I am a better man now. Oh, I am a better man.
Jeremy and Sapphire meeting on the sea of light and teething. Pyramids of water rising from all that I see.
Close your eyes, my soggy darling. The queen's disguised as Warren Harding. Ride this night into the end of all that begins.
EMPRESS OF LOVE
Here I go, blind as nothing. As the rain cares for a tree in the autumn breeze. Like a black eternal fountain, gathered in then filtered out. Like some new word in your mouth. Like some new word in your mouth.
And I know on your bad days, you'll feel sick of me. Meet me in our new life, filled with smoke and water dreams.
They come into your room in the middle of the night, flying the white flag of the empress of light. Ten pillars beneath, and there's eighteen above. You're flying the black flag of the empress of love. Yeah, you're flying the black flag of the empress of love.
And I can't really help it if you say I let you down. You could color in the canyons with your January frown. Like some kind, forgotten Sunday, or a dancer out of time. We could sink into indifference, and leave the audience behind. Your light and mine.
They come into your room in the middle of the night, flying the white flag of the empress of light. Ten pillars beneath, and there's eighteen above. You're flying the black flag of the empress of love. Yeah, you're flying the black flag of the empress of love.
BLACK HEN
Here comes the black hen, bearing wild foam and fleece. Called through your own breath, into the woods that are so deep. And when the sun goes down over the trees, I will follow her cold footprints until the woods have swallowed me. Into some warm and milky hollow, just my lioness and me.
Here comes the black hen, over wires, soft and slow. Called through strange thresholds, wrapped in men I used to know. In this wild century, men of providence don't know the rhythms of great sea birds that now occupy my soul.