lirik lagu mount eerie - distortion
[verse 1]
but i don’t believe in ghosts or anything, i know that you are gone and that i’m carrying some version of you around, some untrustworthy old description in my memories and that must be your ghost taking form created every moment by me dreaming you so. and is it my job now to hold whatever’s left of you for all time? and to reenact you for our daughter’s life?
[verse 2]
i do remember when i was a kid and realized that life ends and is just over; that a point comes where we no longer get to say or do anything. and then what? i guess just forgotten, and i said to my mom that i hoped to do something important with my life: not be famous, but just remembered a little more, to echo beyond my actual end. my mom laughed at this kid trying to wriggle his way out of mortality, of the final inescapable feral scream, but i held that hope and grew up wondering what dying means, unsatisfied, ambitious and squirming
[verse 3]
the first dead body i ever saw in real life was my great-grandfather’s embalmed in a casket in everett in a room by the freeway where they talked me into reading a thing from the bible about walking through a valley in the shadow of death but i didn’t understand the words, i thought of actually walking through a valley and a shadow with a backpack and a tent. but that dead body next to me spoke clear and metaphor-free
[verse 4]
in december 2001 after having spent the summer and fall traveling mostly alone around the country that was spiraling into war and mania, little flags were everywhere. i was living on the periphery as a twenty-three-year-old wrapped up in doing what i wanted and it was music and painting on newsprint and eating all the fruit from the tree like tarzan or walt whitman, voracious, devouring life, singing my song sleeping in yards without asking permission
but that december i was shaken by a pregnancy scare from someone that i’d been with for only one night many states away, who i hadn’t planned to keep knowing. a young and embarr-ssing over-confident animal night. the terror of the idea of fatherhood at twenty-three destroyed my foundation and left me freaked out and wandering around mourning the independence and solitude that defined me then
though my life is a galaxy of subtleties, my complex intentions and aspirations do not matter at all in the face of the crushing flow of actual time. i saw my ancestors as sad and misunderstood in the same way that my descendants will squint back through a fog trying to see some polluted version of all i meant to be in life – their recollections pruned by the accidents of time, what got thrown away and what gets talked about at night
but she had her period eventually and i went back to being twenty-three
[verse 5]
eleven years later i was traveling alone again on an airplane from new zealand to perth, western australia, very alone, so far away from you and the home that we had made
i watched a movie on the plane about jack kerouac, a doc-mentary going deeper than the usual congratulations. they interviewed his daughter, jan kerouac, and she tore through the history. she told about this deadbeat drinking, watching three stooges on tv, not acknowledging his paternity, abandoning the child, taking cowardly refuge in his self-mythology. and when she spoke i heard your voice telling me about the adults who had abandoned you as a sweet kid and left you to grow precariously. and when she spoke i looked in her face and saw you looking back at me on a tiny airplane seat screen at the bottom of the world. i saw a french-canadian resemblance, and i heard suffering echoing
a lineage of bad parents and strong daughters withstanding, and she had black hair and freckles and pale skin just like you, and she told the hard truth and slayed the gods just like you
i saw the cracks in the façade of posterity
i missed you so i went home
[verse 6]
the second dead body i ever saw was you, geneviève, when i watched you turn from alive to dead right here in our house
and i looked around the room and asked “are you here?”, and you weren’t, and you are not here, i sing to you though
i keep you breathing through my lungs in a constant uncomfortable stream of memories trailing out until i am dead too, and then eventually the people who remember me will also die, containing what it was like to stand in the same air with me and breathe and wonder why
[outro]
and then distortion
and then the silence of sp-ce
the night palace
the ocean blurring
but in my tears right now
light gleams
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