Friday, February 18, 2011

illko birov - No Name (3)

I tuned my guitar a full step down to the key of D
That way I can sing all the songs I like, and it makes
it even more fun to play those old blues numbers
Tonight I decided to put a capo on the VI
And try to ring something out.
So I came up with this tune.
I really don't know what it reminds me of

But I can imagine people walking
Never talking though, I don't see that
I'm afraid you'll have to turn your speakers up
Some have their hands in their pockets
Others are waving their bandaged fingers around
Most are in a hurry, see
And it seems everybody wants to get found

It's like a halted bicycle race
A rat-chase
Some fat head with beady eyes
and a neck lace

I rarely think about it
Anything, to be exact
Row my boat, alas, I do
Fast or slow, doesn't matter
Since I'll be there
Any way

Ah! Still the purring
that automatic incessant whirling
even when it's dark and quiet
there's that swirl
And when you try to say something
It's too loud, or too dull
If it's readable, it's OK
Any way

Like a drill
But no, see: a fire
In your halls
(A wooden building, well wadduyah know)
Just waiting to burn
All of those manuscripts
That made up what you're about
To learn

And don't

You feel like walking
Never talking, just staring, imagine
Passing by
But not recognizing
Trying to get by
And do nowhere
Because it's fun
It's hip
It's cool
And gone
As are all the Greyhound buses
all the hitchhikers
And tank-top girls
And passersby

And yet some have their hands in their pockets
Others have got none
Or enjoy showing their hands
Either way
But what can you really have
When you're just walking
And seldom talking, seemingly unprepared
Joked all night at a masquerade mask
What have you got
What could you want?

I'll give my guitar that extra step tomorrow
See, my voice needs the struggle
Those crazy old songs sound higher
I'll give myself that extra walk
I'll remember old letters
And then I'll talk
I'll think about the cold
And Lovelace
And how it hasn't been like that for years
And Clara
Yet there isn't much snow
Not much snow around at all
Melted, you see.
Feel you could freeze to the bone
And stare at concrete while at it
Imagine a concrete wall
Not much going on lately
Just people up and down
Coming and going
Mostly going
Any way

And as I said earlier, you're just walking
Some people have dreams they'd like
To make yers
Some dreams, I'd say (to that scheme)
Never talking though
Seldom corresponding
Not very much left to say

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