Dark Of Days Lyrics

The Waiting Noon

Car pulls up. It's dark outside.
I hope that this is just my ride.
The shadows came up to the door.
One was of a very tall man.
In his hand was some big hammer thing.
I jumped a little with the ringing of the bell.
The smoke came gushing-in.
My head needs a-resting now.
My pipe is warm and looks like milk.
I rolled on all the Chinese silk.
I laughed a little, looked a little,
felt I was being watched a little.
Time slowed down and then it stopped.
I heard the turning of the lock,
and noticed just how sweet and low
the smoke felt on the tips of my toes.
My life felt good and all worthwhile.
For fifteen seconds turning, turning the dial,
"The t.v. hurts my eyes! I can't see!"
(my shadow is no match to his).
My head is smaller than his fist.
Little kindness will be found
in the centers of his eyes...

Blue Kitchen

The hand was inches away from my face.
Strings of glass beads dangling from fingers that shake
so slightly. They were gentle. They painted the kitchen blue.
They waited like fans at a concert. They waited long for you.
Couldn't see the person the hand was connected to.
Only smelled the salt of its palm, read the words to its catchy song.
The string gave way. The beads fell on my orange face,
and scattered on the floor, by door of the kitchen painted blue.

The beads grew larger as they rolled.
During which they acquired souls.
Humming-along like a line of monks,
the puddles on the floor left them
...drunk.

I felt that hand dragging down my burning back.
My face was pressed against the cash someone stashed
under floorboards, under tiles, in the kitchen painted blue.
I thought of that very first moment:
The first time I slept with you.

The beads grew tight around my throat,
looking very precious, but they didn't choke.
I can't deny the sounds I heard.
I was acutely aware of the closeness of your
...words.

The Hat

She counts the weeks, days, and the hours.
Up all night before he comes back.
Never cared what she looked like before.
Now she don't leave without that hat.
The hat he bought at Brighton Beach,
when the sky was bright gray and the air was sweet.
Big old funhouse with tattooed freaks,
and overweight burlesque girls.

They kissed, then she ran about fifty feet or so,
stopped and turned around,
threw her hat into the air,
and glided to the ground.

Her tragic life temporarily put on hold,
she feels herself get young and the same,
growing old.
He makes her laugh. He makes her smile.
She looks for life between old tiles,

And they kissed (deeply)
like they had just met the night before.
When the last bus left.
They had to keep each other warm.

Dark Of Days

Some kind of lagoon,
where pharos and modern-day dictators meet in a room,
discussing their finer parts, and all their future sins.
"Let the new day begin!" they say,
as they raise their glasses to the dark of days.
All their guns were stacked in piles by the coat check.
The girl hasn't made enough tips yet.
She never seems to smile.
The wives are all home,
gossiping and chit-chatting on their telephones,
painting-up their toenails.
Though they cannot show their feet.
"You can kiss her! You can kiss her!
But you better be discreet."

For all the alarms there sure is a great deal of calm.
Where'd everyone go?
In the shelters and basements a hundred-sixty feet below.

The wind took their sails,
waltzing on the ocean.
The captain's on a bed of nails
while all those evil thinkers and foul-mouthed drinkers
made plans for us.
"This doom is very scenic and bright!
For a moment I forgot that we were still in the night."
The moon had killed the stars.
"We haven't traveled far.

Cliché

Glad another bad thing came upon me.
All is good. It brought about a change.
Now I can see.
Guess I got a little too comfortable.
Catastrophe saved me from being one of them:
The walking dead.

Ran out of words to describe this
so I'll use colour.
I'll paint beyond the lines,
a lovely waste of time.
And I'm grateful to be dirt-poor.
No need for a lock on my door.
I've nothing left to steal...
Nothing real.

Father always said "When one door closes
another one is sure to open."
And "god only gives you what he knows you can take."
As true as they are, I'm so sick of the cliches.

So I made all the phone calls, I filed all the papers.
I'm tired! I don't wanna go back!
Tired of feelin' so trapped.
Well, I'm well-educated and bored out of mind,
irresponsible, loving, and kind,
talented, lazy, and unmotivated,
crazy, unstable, and self-medicated.

Supergirl's Complaint

My tights are drying on the back of the chair.
Comb the bugs and dirt out of my hair.
Rescued some kids from a porno operation,
in a basement in Detroit.
Drew the smack out of junkie's toe.
I left laying grateful on the kitchen floor.
Flew out the window, landed on both feet,
and took off again.

This is a thankless job.
It doesn't pay that well.
maybe it's a feel-good thing for me.
I can't tell. I can't tell.
Look, I may be strong,
but I've only got two arms.
Call that guy in Metropolis
and say "I can't handle this!"

They put the signal out into the clouds.
I dropped my blinds, turned the t.v. up loud,
sank down in my easy chair and said
"Damn. Not again."
But I pulled myself up, got my cape and boots,
and my big, red belt that's only for looks.
No special features.
No laureate to round-up evil creatures.

In Between Songs

Must've been the right time
cuz that's when it happened.
Came through the door and you smiled.
I remember like it's yesterday.
A very shy guy, and I think that I like that.
Sat down at the end of the bar
and stared back at me.

And in between songs I got nervous.
No one knew the difference
except maybe you.

"I wish you would sit next to me now."
And that's what he did.
I was confused. I was excited.
I wanted to touch you.
All these crazy things floated right through me:
Fevered daydreams happening late at night.
Cliche kiss in the rain, in the summer,
in the back of an old car in Cuba.
Counting starfish and laughing so softly,
trying not to fall in, I remember
the desert, and a sky that's way too blue.

You brought me up for air somehow.
Would you be willing to stay a while?
I turn into a child when you enter the room.
I don't know what to say. I feel awkward.

Master Manipulator

If it makes you feel better
to put the blame on me
go ahead. Go ahead.
Go ahead and do it.
After so many times
trying to defend myself,
it was really, it was really no use.

You learned from the best.
The master manipulator.
You're smooth but obvious.
I'll let you believe it,
but I won't fall for it.

Tell them. Tell everyone
all the reasons I'm a louse.
Spread the rumor.
Tell the story if it keeps you in that crowd.

Well, I'm not sorry that you're miserable
'cuz your misery's not my fault.
Don't wait for explanation.
I don't owe you anything.
You owe me.

Can't look up to you anymore.
Can't trust you or the things you say,
but I can watch it all unfold.
And in the end I'll come out okay.

Minor Key

Was it your curious eyes?
Or my big fur hat?
Was it my crooked smile?
Or your thick accent?
Was it the questions that didn't matter?
Was it the first walk home?
Or the shrinking space between our mouths
when it was cold to the bone?

Thought I would invite you up for tea.
True love is always in a minor key.

We tried to say our goodbyes,
but we just stood and stared,
slow and warm into each other's eyes
like a double-dare.
Side by side, in my living room,
the saddest sounds of Arab Strap
provide the perfect tunes.

Happy songs are weaker than they seem.
True love is always in a minor key.

Rabbit ears, and bass guitars,
experiments and random facts,
weekend rental cars.
Chinatown, from here to there.
Coney Island Wonder Wheel,
your fingers in my hair.

So Much Time

Greet the sun behind the curtain
in this ungodly hour of the morning
with a little respect.
Chirping birds and dump truck hydraulics,
children and their puppy dogs are waiting for you
outside.

You spend so much time
hiding under your covers, pulling down your blinds.
You've got so much time to waste with all your worries,
to occupy the motel in your mind.

Speeding from malnourishment,
circling all the magnets with your eyes.
Laying all your anger on me
when I'm only turning on the lights.

I've got so much time
to sit and try to humor you and maybe go unconscious.
We've got so much time
to hit the ping-pong back and forth.
I won't make you eat your words when I eat mine.

Like the pictures in the childrens' books:
Many things suggested but not said.
Right, I am the psychic.
It's up to me to know who's in the bed.