"(But Here We Are)"
It’s funny how all those things you never wanted to remember,
blocked out and you turned your back on in the name of ‘moving on’,
they come back to you on January nights.
You realise the reason you’ve been drinking alone,
the reason you’ve been letting the silent passive disarray creep in,
the reason you stopped writing, stopped reading, stopped sleeping,
stopped loving is because there was never a step forward
or even an honest gaze towards the setting sun following the Ohio river,
running steadily towards Missouri.
And something comes along, it comes along and you expect it,
but you didn’t know it could inhabit such a form such a sleek soft skin.
But nonetheless, it’s there in your bed, a Tuesday morning in early December
and you get to thinking, don’t you?
All of a sudden, you’re retracing that final conversation
before she moved to California and then the two weeks later
when you caught her out of the corner of your eye from your barstool.
There was a shot oh old granddad in front of you
before you could even pull out your wallet.
You’re piecing together the swigs of W.L. Weller
in the bucket seats of the van, a parking lot of some old bowling alley.
There are a hundred or so people in the basement
waiting for you to play songs that mean nothing to you,
at least in the context of a face.
You’ve invited this blonde model, you wonder if she’ll show
so you keep pulling on the bottle and wait to see what happens.
Turns out she does, but so do the last three girls you can remember
saying “I love you” to, and they all want a piece of you.
So it’s a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon from the bar
and then all of the blood from your face and forgotten lyrics
and falling into the drum set and can’t you see all this time it was all too much?
Just 21 and so empty, so fucking tired, so worried about nothing.
Dad phoned the next day, said to stop drinking. He wasn’t even there.
You’re picturing moving out of that Chestnut Street apartment,
in all its ragged rooftop beer glory, in all its mistaken nakedness.
You moved the bed because you couldn’t sleep in that corner any more
after you realised you weren’t in control.
Never did call the landlord after the door was kicked in in December.
Held a vendetta against squirrels after noticing the grey tails
finding winter refuge above the ceiling tiles.
When you were putting the finishing touches on a move out destined to cost
you a full unreturned deposit, the power was shut off while you were vacuuming,
you laughed and got the fuck out of there forever.
“But here we are” she says.
Thanks to justinxevers for these lyrics
Punk Lyrics |