milkweed

“This is a song I sing, that I want you to have in your heart when the day comes that you see a person whose lips, when they first met yours, filled you with a joy that you had not known before that day. When the day comes that the same lips fill you with the revulsion you would reserve for an open grave, I want you to know this song. You may not want to sing it, you may not want to remember it. But I have sadistic tendencies! And I want you to remember me on that day, cause I’ve been right down there with you.”

— John Darnielle

the sun came up above the strange white plain.
blood red flowers all wet with rain
and the spirit wasn’t really willing anymore, but the flesh was very very strong.
and i’ve got very little money left, and i’ve got no sense,
but I’ll have none of your god damned impudence.
the sun came up above the new white fields, 
everything was new again.
pure power, stripped of meaning, sky burning, spring cleaning.

daisies on the hillside like cancer on the skin.
pretty little yellow eyes that flutter in the wind,
I’d be grateful my children aren’t here here to see this,
if you’d ever seen fit to give me children.
and my defenses may be working with a skeleton crew,
but I’ll be skinned alive before I’ll take this from you.
the sun came up above the ocean out west, 
all the colors of the rainbow.

stand up straight, you can see the house leaning.
day breaking, spring cleaning.