dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Thursday, June 07, 2012

wild sage

Here's a song for you to hear that's in my head because of the sage.  The sound and audio don't match up, for me, but don't watch the video and just listen to the song.  There are classic Mountain Goats lines here, like...

I actually need to quote the lyrics to the whole song.

I leave as soon as it gets light outside
Like a prisoner breaking out of jail.
And I steal down to business fifteen-five-oh-one
like I had a bounty hunter on my tail,

and somebody stops to pick me up,

but he drops me off just down the block.
And along the highway, where the empty spirits breathe,
wild sage growing in the weeds.

Walked down the soft shoulder and I count my steps,

Headed vaguely eastward, sun in my eyes.
And I lose my footing, and I skin my hands breaking my fall.
And I laugh to myself and look up at the skies,

And then I think I hear angels in my ears
Like marbles being thrown against a mirror.
And along the highway, where unlucky stray dogs bleed,
Wild sage growing in the weeds.

And some days I don't miss my family
and some days I do.
Some days I think I'd feel better if I tried harder.
Most days I know it's not true.

I lay down right where I fell, cold grass in my face.

And I hear the traffic like the rhythm of the tides.
And I stare at the scrape on the heel of my hand
'til it doesn't sting so much and until the blood's dried.

And when somebody asks if I'm ok,

I don't know what to say.
And along the highway,
From cast-off innumerable seeds,
Wild sage growing in the weeds.


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