lirik lagu okkervil river - rider
baby’s ball is all blood red of flayed pigs
and silk soft little things
fill a house hung from strings
and i fly out on my silver, scissoring wings
(with the other sardines)
over cities of things mommies need —
light as gas, and half–ssedly free,
like i was in nineteen ninety three.
over the ruins like we’re staggering apes.
what we get is what we take
in a split open place where a man can get kinged
in a palace of panic and flames
where n-body gets blamed by the tired,
and broke down, and beat. in sunken gardens
where there was a street.
west over water i rambled and paced,
and the blood river raced like the sweat down my face.
and the stadium roared. and the warriors embraced.
and the golden sh-r- groaned
beneath the weight of my tastes. and i blazed
in the last orange hours of the day,
until the dust hazed and hid us away.
so, little baby, be brave.
i see your dad riding over the rise,
crashing his whole cavalcade through the crowd.
watch them run on all sides.
and the neon white branches,
and the carrion fly
on a congressman’s eye
i have wrapped up for you in some old autumn leaves,
and left under a rock out on rockaway beach,
beneath the trees.
i have laughed my best hiss to the whistling breeze.
there’s a hole in my throat.
you can note my last wheeze if you need.
and then take hold of the rope
and down we scream.
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