Strange Bird/Sunset Studies

The golden sun is ever gentle in the valley of making
Where it's the middle of the autumn when it isn't high spring
There are men of many colours and women of all races
Wearing white, white linen
And smiles on their faces

Blue rose

There are roses round the edges of the grand property
The words "Labor, Ardor, Langdor" are its lovely trinity
And when you see just how they dress and how they speak and act too
Well all you'll want to do is dress up in their white linen too

Blue rose and drew the curtain back on the morning

And you said holly-hey, and with a teary tilt
For you were rudely made, and shoddy built
Between the thumb and the forefinger
Barefoot pressed, he hoists his trouser leg
She lifts her dress

O these men of many colors in their creamy white suits
With their different colored hands dig in the soil for their roots
Of the dreamy conversation that the slender women make
As they sip from slender glasses by the vineyard lake

Blue rose and drew the curtain back on the morning
Blue rose and every little thing was guilt and suffering no more
If you could see the people laughing and not hear the sound it makes
Then you could keep the good opinion that the tone of voice takes
If you could see the people laughing and not here the sound it makes it go

There's a woman there among them who with red, red eyes
Says you haven't been working hard enough on your lies
The golden sun is ever gentle and one lie follows another in
The only way to get there is by singing brother, singing
There are women of all races, men in white, white linen
And the only way to get there is to sing sister, sing sister, sing

And draw the curtain back on the morning
Blue rose and every little thing was guilt and suffering no more
Blue rose and drew the curtain back on the morning

Where the wars were not for wearing
The ghettoes never got
To each lonely, lonely person their own shovel, their own plot
Have you ever heard a rattle way on down when people sigh
Way on down the silly rattle says you're happy when you die

To be,
A bee, a moth.
Four wings spread for the soft last touch
Of glory sun,

Remembering blood plums and lips and lemons -
One hundred different suns
In a hundred different heavens.
Spied from a rowboat -

Stroke, not is spoken,
Before you know it, the spell is broken,
You might wonder where you are,
Floating on the reservoir.

I have counted the notes
We landed here not many years ago
And it was not a pretty song that we composed:
La, la, la, the early bird he knows,

You hang from the cherry bough
When you're lichen yourself, and leave -
The cold cold scent of stone and mulch,
The great stone wall to stave the rush,

To think that peace might be too much,
Waiting for that giant touch...
The lake... the fir-fringed lake -
Placid and ample, birded, breezed and dappled

Through the mountain break,
Through the mountain break,
A moment take, a moment, a moment...
You might wonder where you are,

Perched up on the reservoir,
Adolf in the white hotel,
All this time we've been in hell,
You might wonder where you are,

Perched above the reservoir,
Luis of the lake retire,

Before they set the lake on fire
Before they set the lake on fire
Before they set the lake on fire

O fraudulent mirror,
O rank rainbow toad,
I'd break apart too if I knowed what you knowed
I'd fall from the wall,
I'd leap from the road,
You take cover in the clover,
You don't shoulder the load

Wagner and wife, drama and strife.
Their syphilitic friend Dionysus is wise not to ask,
"Where's sunstroke house?
"Where's a crow on the far fence, where's a mill by the pond?"

Pale with horror, I saw you when your bird flew,
Now who in the whole low world has been kind to you,
Save for a kindly, ugly few?
Don't read it, don't watch it, don't do what they do.

From the wind in the winter, no mercy, no quarter. From the summer, no mercy, and little goes well.
That's where you'll live,
That's where you'll live,
Till a gale rips ya sale,
Till a will kills ya mill.

Where have you been, my heat, my shadow?
How well did you like the song?
I filled it so full of nonsense and unrule,
You feel like there's something forgotten or fell.
You feel like there's something forgotten or fell.

Pale with horror, I saw you when your bird flew
Now who in the whole low world has been kind to you save for a kindly, ugly few?
Don't read it, don't watch it, don't do what they do.
Don't read it, don't watch it, don't do what they do.

Pink-lipped bub,
Golden age sitting,
Portraits of withering roots,
Petty diversions,
Pointless excursions,
Pleasant distractions,
Underground mutes.

What's wrong, sad Prince?
The body is soft, the heart is cold,
You were tongue-in' for danger, but danger bites back,
It only lays down for the reckless and you weren't never bold

Think of all you'd never do...
Now it sits next to you on the bus, it joins you in the elevator,
Nothing good is kept for later,
You should never have let it through to the Keepa.

In old Brazil there is a breach upon the earth they call "The Sigh",
Where the gods all hang their washing out to dry,
Where strange birds fly, and giants go to die,
I heard you went there for the quiet,
Well I wasn't asking why

It was all that you could do...
Now it sits next to you on the bus, it joins you in the elevator,
Nothing good is kept for later,
You should never have let it through to the Keepa.

In the afternoon a weary sun beats a pallor too soon
About the broken tooth hell-mouth of your room,
You slide into a sleep, O to dreaming of a sweet talk,
To wilt beneath a whisper - "No regrets sad Prince"

Not for all you'll never do...
Now it sits next to you on the bus, it joins you in the elevator,
Nothing good is kept for later,
You should never have let it through to the Keepa.

The children of this cold coast
Are throwing themselves off cliffs,
We know that they don't want to
But memory insists -

Memories of water,
Fantasies of fins,
So be off baby seal.
Swim little fish...

Under mackerel sun, you're unnatural
O how, how do they breathe?
And whales hear whales
When love comes down there,

But also from miles
Hear pain and there fear.
Pinned by the water pins,
Stuck by the ships,

Mild the bay seems,
Mild in the mist...
Under mackerel sun, you're unnatural.
O how, how do they breathe?

On days when the bay breaks,
And gales gut the shore,
They come up from the water's edge,
And they appear young no more -

White haired, widowed, and what they would have been.
Children at eternal play.
Angels of the bowling green.

What do the men say
To the women when they lay down at night
All naked of arms from the old imagined fight?
And how do the women hear?
In kind and in likeness of light
"In kindness you needn't and neither do I
We are both of us capable of flight"
And as if to give proof
She jumped through the hole in the roof
What did the condemned say
To the blessed when they met on the path?
"O you take the low road and I'll take the high for a laugh
(but if I'm laughing now it's because I've a gentle heart)"
And because it was true
He slipped through the hole in the roof

La la la la,
La la la la la la...
From above your head a thing can be read that you're thinking...

What the secretaries sing and the CEO's bark in the bars

What do the dead say
To the ones who still think they're alive?
"With your heads all on backwards
You can't see in front for what near behind you lies"
"Well show us some help then
Above your head let it flicker the light
These ones that I'm with
Have not learned to forgive your necessary alibis
When they made you love money
And the poor prophet's stock
When they poisoned the watersheds
And fashioned our arrowheads
From the deep forbidden rock

O but did you see what people do?
And when you saw it you did it too
Now all your children are twice the size of you
And they come in at night through
The hole in your roof
The hole in your roof
The hole in your roof
The hole in your roof

There is no such place,
O yes I have seen it too
Just a little different from how you do,
A river winding blue among the dunes
And a marble bed
A sun that doesn't set but settles.
There is no such place.
If I lower mine to yours
Would you kiss me on the face?
If you're looking for an unmarked place,
There is no such place

Blasted in appearance and
A composite of fearful minutes
Frozen in the waking instant
Longing, things I long for,
Peaceful nights,
Strangers at the door,
O come in, come in,
You've been here before.
There is no such place,
So perhaps we have a reason
For our long and falling face,
Above all it would be warm
But we would keep our heads all
Clear as Winter, storms would be
A sight to make us shiver
But without the chill
Of thinking all is hither-thither

Longing,
Things I long for,
Peaceful nights,
Strangers at the door,
O come in, come through the door,
You've been here before,
You've been here before
There is no such place,
O yes I have seen it too
Just a little different from how you do,
A house upon a hill with no windows
Just a can upon the sill
To catch your tears
To feed your garden.