Motion Made Visible Memories Arrested in Space
๐ต 2823 characters
โฑ๏ธ 3:36 duration
๐ ID: 7671276
๐ Lyrics
I can still remember the moment when
My reflection mentioned black specks in the window panes
And said he loved what I'd done with the place in paint splatter
Or like a settlement crack
When the precast masonry shrinks and expands
But it feels like the foundation shifting
And when the concrete contracts like that
The slab simply sinks into the sand on which it stands
No wonder he's stumbling over the cornerstone
With figurative eyes, forward floaters, and flashes, and fibers
Projecting Jackson Pollock paintings
Dripping in alcoholic and brushing abstracts into life
Well anyway, the incisions in his vision cobwebbed out
Like varicose veins
And when he finally realized that my walls were white
"Afraid," was the only word that he found
To articulate the way the blood spread
Bruising beneath his faith
Like a child scribbling something new
Into the pages of her coloring book
It kept refusing to stay inside of the lines
And he kept wondering if love really shows up to cast it out
Keep forgiving
(Keep forgiving)
(Keep forgiving)
I've seen it in the nudity that the spirit seeks
Beneath the post-it notes as fig leaves that I stick to myself
Like pithy adhesive truisms could be my covering
There is something sacred about
Standing naked and blurred by the condensation in the mirror
That glass darkly, that fog
The way that knowledge came with a cost
That taught me that certainty is not peace
And trust is more than belief
And surrender is more than a verbal ascent to the idea of surrendering
In confidence my mother said that she wonders if there are some things
That will not be reconciled on this side of death
And I used to have her pegged as an escapist
But, what else is there to do but give up
When clenched fists and vengeance
Still don't produce what they intended?
Can you be tender enough with yourself
To flesh it out and let the mess be what it is?
We pummeled the constructs to dust and stared at it
Like, "Well, where do we go from here?"
That earth looks a lot like what we're made of
Self-flagellation is what it is
Regardless of whether you call it
Penitent or progressive sanctification
Is the Word as retributive as we made Him?
She heard my plea for mercy before I knew how to speak it
One morning, in her living room
I tried
The sunlight shone in through windows
That lifted the colors of roses she had dried
And hanging upside down in a row against the white on the wall
Blood red, like both a foreshadowing and a sacrament
I said, "I'm paralyzed
Everything that has been so right for so long
Now just seems so wrong."
And I don't know how to start over
And I don't know how to wish for anything beyond the approval of men
Who, somehow, had me convinced that buying their indulgences
Was the equivalent of hearing the voice of God
How do I learn to hear Him if they're gone?
(Gone)
(Gone)
My reflection mentioned black specks in the window panes
And said he loved what I'd done with the place in paint splatter
Or like a settlement crack
When the precast masonry shrinks and expands
But it feels like the foundation shifting
And when the concrete contracts like that
The slab simply sinks into the sand on which it stands
No wonder he's stumbling over the cornerstone
With figurative eyes, forward floaters, and flashes, and fibers
Projecting Jackson Pollock paintings
Dripping in alcoholic and brushing abstracts into life
Well anyway, the incisions in his vision cobwebbed out
Like varicose veins
And when he finally realized that my walls were white
"Afraid," was the only word that he found
To articulate the way the blood spread
Bruising beneath his faith
Like a child scribbling something new
Into the pages of her coloring book
It kept refusing to stay inside of the lines
And he kept wondering if love really shows up to cast it out
Keep forgiving
(Keep forgiving)
(Keep forgiving)
I've seen it in the nudity that the spirit seeks
Beneath the post-it notes as fig leaves that I stick to myself
Like pithy adhesive truisms could be my covering
There is something sacred about
Standing naked and blurred by the condensation in the mirror
That glass darkly, that fog
The way that knowledge came with a cost
That taught me that certainty is not peace
And trust is more than belief
And surrender is more than a verbal ascent to the idea of surrendering
In confidence my mother said that she wonders if there are some things
That will not be reconciled on this side of death
And I used to have her pegged as an escapist
But, what else is there to do but give up
When clenched fists and vengeance
Still don't produce what they intended?
Can you be tender enough with yourself
To flesh it out and let the mess be what it is?
We pummeled the constructs to dust and stared at it
Like, "Well, where do we go from here?"
That earth looks a lot like what we're made of
Self-flagellation is what it is
Regardless of whether you call it
Penitent or progressive sanctification
Is the Word as retributive as we made Him?
She heard my plea for mercy before I knew how to speak it
One morning, in her living room
I tried
The sunlight shone in through windows
That lifted the colors of roses she had dried
And hanging upside down in a row against the white on the wall
Blood red, like both a foreshadowing and a sacrament
I said, "I'm paralyzed
Everything that has been so right for so long
Now just seems so wrong."
And I don't know how to start over
And I don't know how to wish for anything beyond the approval of men
Who, somehow, had me convinced that buying their indulgences
Was the equivalent of hearing the voice of God
How do I learn to hear Him if they're gone?
(Gone)
(Gone)