| Joanna Newsom's lyrics Written by Newsom (except track 11) |
| 1. Bridges and Balloons
We sailed away on a winter's day with fate as malleable as clay; but ships are fallible, I say, and the nautical, like all things, fades And I can recall our caravel: a little wicker beetle shell with four fine maste and lateen sails, its bearings on Cair Paravel O my love, O it was a funny little thing to be the ones to've seen. The sight of bridges and balloons makes calm canaries irritable; they caw and claw all afternoon: "Catenaries and dirigibles brace and buoy the living-room -- a loom of metal, warp - woof - wimble." And a thimbles worth of milky moon can touch hearts larger than a thimble. O my love, O is was a funny little thing to be the ones to've seen 2. Sprout and the Bean I slept all day awoke with distaste and I railed, and I raved That the difference between the sprout and the bean is a golden ring, it is a twisted string. And you can ask the counselor; you can ask the king; and they'll say the same thing; and it's a funny thing: Should we go outside? Should we go outside? Should we break some bread? Are y'interested? And as I said, I slept as though dead dreaming seamless dreams of lead. When you go away, I am big-boned and fey in the dust of the day, in the dirt of the day. and Danger! Danger! Drawing near them was a white coat, and Danger! Danger! drawing near them was a broad boat, And the water! water! running clear beneath a white throat, and the hollow chatter of the talking of the Tadpoles, who know th'outside! Should we go outside? Should we break some bread? Are y'interested? 3. The book of Right ~ on We should shine a light on, a light on. And the book of right-on is right on, it was right on, I killed my dinner with karate - kick 'em in the face, taste the body; shallow work is the work that I do. Do you want to sit at my table? My fighting fame is fabled and fortune finds me fit and able. And you do say that you do pray and you do say that you're okay. Do you want to run with my pack? Do you want to ride on my back? Pray that what you lack does not distract. And even when you ruin through my mind something else is in front; you're behind. And I don't have to remind you to stick with your kind And you do say (...) And even when you touch my face you know your place. We should shine a light on, a light on. (...) 4. Sadie Sadie, white coat, carry me home. Bury this bone, take this pinecone. Bury this bone to gnaw on it later; gnaw on the telephone. 'Till then, we pray & suspend the notion that these lives do never end. And all day long we talk about mercy: lead me to water lord, I sure am thirsty. Down in the ditch where I nearly served you, up in the clouds where he almost heard you And all that we built, and all that we breathed, and all that we spilt, or pulled up like weeds is piled up in back; it burns irrevocably. (we spoke up in turns, 'till the silence crept over me) Bless you and I deeply do no longer resolute and I call to you But the water go so cold, and you do lose what you don't hold. This is an old song, these are old blues. This is not my tune, but it's mine to use. And the seabirds where the fear once grew will flock with a fury, and they will bury what'd come for you Down where I darn with the milk-eyed mender you and I, and a love so tender, is stretched-on the hoop where I stitch-this adage: "Bless this house and its heart so savage." And all that I want, and all that I need and all that I've got is scattered like seed. And all that I knew is moving away from me. (and all that I know is blowing like tumbleweed) And the mealy worms in the brine will burn in a salty pyre, among the fauns and ferns. And the love we hold, and the love we spurn, will never grow cold only taciturn. And I'll tell you tomorrow. Sadie, go on home now. Bless those who've sickened below; bless us who've chosen so. And all that I've got and all that I need I tie in a knot that I lay at your feet. I have not forgot, but a silence crept over me. (So dig up your bone, exhume your pinecone, my sadie) 5. Inflammatory Writ Oh, where is your inflammatory writ? Your text that would incite a light, "Be lit"? Our music deserving devotion unswerving - cry "Do I deserve her?" with unflagging fervor. (Well, no you do not, if you cannot get over it) And what's it mean when suddenly we're spent? Ambition came and reared its head, and went. Even mollusks have weddings, though solemn and leaden but you dirge for the dead, take no jam on your bread - just a supper of salt and a waltz through your empty bed. And all at once it came to me, and i wrote and hunched 'till four-thirty But that vestal light, it burns out with the night in spite of all the time that we spent on it: one bedraggled ghost of a sonnet! While outside, the wild boars root without bending a bough underfoot- O it breaks my heart; I don't know how they do't. And as for my inflammatory writ? Well, I wrote it and I was not inflamed one bit. Advice from the master derailed that disaster; he said "Hand that pen over to ME, poetaster!" While across the great plains, keening lovely & awful, ululate the last Great American Novels - An unlawful lot, left to stutter and freeze, floodlit. (But at least they didn't run, to their undying credit.) 6. This Side of the Blue Svetlana sucks lemons across from me, and I am progressing abominably. And I do not know my own way to the sea but the saltiest sea knows its own way to me. The city that turns, turns protracted and slow and I find myself toeing th'embarcadero and I find myself knowing the things that I knew which is all that you can know on this side of the blue And Jaime has eyes black and shiny as boots and they march at you, two-by-two (re - loo - re - loo); when she looks at you, you know she's nowhere near through: it's the hardest heart beating this side of the blue. And the signifieds butt heads with the signifiers, and we all fall down slack-jawed to marvel at words! While across the sky sheet the impossible birds, in a steady, illiterate movement homewards. And Gabriel stands beneath forest and moon. See them rattle & boo, see them shake, see them loom. See him fashion a cap from a page of Camus; see him navigate deftly this side of the blue. And the rest of our lives will the moments accrue when the shape of their goneness will flare up anew. hen we do what we have to do (re - loo - re -loo), which is all you can do on this side of the blue. 7. "En Gallop" This place is damp and ghostly I am already gone. And the halls were lined with the disembodied and dustly wings, which fell from flesh gasplessly. And I go where the trees go, and I walk from a higher education (for now, for hire) And it beats me, but I do not know. Palaces and stormclouds the rough, straggly sage, and the smoke and the way it will all come together (in quietness, in time) And you laws of property you free economy you unending afterthoughts, you could've told me before - Never get so attached to a poem you forget truth that lacks lyricism; never draw so close to the heat that you forget that you must eat. 8. Cassiopeia Feel the mattress tense beneath me like the muscle of nonsleepy; Feathers flexing will defeat me, and it vexes me completely. And the hexes heat covertly like a slow low-flying turkey like a Texan drying jerky but his meaty mitts can't hurt me With my steely will compounded in a mighty mound that's hounded by the SNAP my steel string sounded, just before your snores unwound it. And in store are dreams so daring that the night can't stop from staring. I'll swim sweetly as a herring through the ether, not despairing. Go to sleep, you stunning sky; gently creep cunning by: A quiet hum is amplified by your thumb, that you suck dry. Hundred raging waters snare the lonely sigh. Hold your breath and clasp at Cassiopiea. 9. Peach, Plum, Pear We speak in the store I'm a sensitive bore and you're markedly more and I'm oozing surprise But it's late in the day and you're well on your way what was golden went gray and I'm suddenly shy And the gathering floozies afford to be choosy and all sneezing darkly in the dimming divide I have read the right books to interpret your looks you were knocking me down with the palm of your eye This was unlike the story it was written to be I was riding its back when it used to ride me We were galloping manic to the mouth of the source we were swallowing panic in the face of its force I was blue and unwell, made me belt like a horse. Now it's done. Watch it go. You've changed some. Water ruin from the snow. Am I so dear? Do I run rare? You've changed some: peach, plum, pear. 10. Swamsea If you want to come on down, down with your bones so white, And watch the freight trains pound into the wild, wild night How I would love to gnaw, gnaw on your bones so white, and watch as the freight trains paw, paw at the wild, wild night. All these ghost towns, wreathed in old loam (Assateague knee-deep in seafoam)- Ho Swansea! Buttonwillow! Lagunitas! Ho Calico! And all these beastly bungalows stare, distend, like endless toads - endlessly hop down the road. Borne by wind, we southward blow. While yonder, wild and blue, the wild blue yonder looms. 'Till we are wracked with rheum, by roads, by songs entombed. And all we want to do is chew, and chew, and chew! Dear one, drive on, when all we want to do is chew, and chew, and chew. And if you want to come on down (...) 11. Three Little Babies (Trad.) There was a knight, and a lady bright and three little babes had she. She sent them away, to a far country, to learn their grammerie. They hadn't been gone but a very short time, about three months and a day, when the lark spread o'er this whole wide world and taken those babes away. It was on a cold, cold Christmas night when everything was still ahe saw her three little babes come running, come running down the hill. She spread them a table of bread and wine, that they might drink and eat; she spread them a bed of winding sheet, that they might sleep so sweet. "Take it off, take it off," cried the eldest one; "take it off, take it off," cried she, "for I shan't stay here, in this wicked world when there's a better one for me." "Cold clods, cold clods, inside my bed, cold clods, down at my feet - the tears my dear mother shed for me would wet my winding sheet." 12. Clam, Crab, cockle, Cowrie That means no where I come from. I am cold, out waiting for the day to come. I chew my lips, and I scratch my nose feels so good to be a rose. Oh don't, don't you life me up like I'm that shy, no no no no no, just five it up - There are bats all dissolving in a row into the wishy-washy dark that can't let go. I cannot let go, so I thank the lord, and I thank his sword! 'tho it be mincing up the morning, slightly bored. O, morning without warning like a hole, and I watch you go. There are some mornings when the sky looks like a road. There are some dragons who were built to have and hold. And some machines are dropped from great heights lovingly. and some bellies ache with many bumblebees. (and they sting so terribly). I do as I please. Now I'm on my knees. Your skin is something that I stir into my tea. And I am watching you and you are starry, starry, starry and I'm tumbling down, and I check a frown. Well, just look around. It's why I love this town: just see me serenaded hourly! celebrated sourly! dedicated dourly; waltzing with the open sea - clam, crab, cockle, cowrie : will you just look at me? |