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Riverbed 4 Lyrics
the moon is blue tonight, the wind is freezing
the friver is restless, and i have stopped breathing
an upside down swordfish pierced my parachute
fireflies flicker and it makes you want to hide your eyes
i breathe out gently right before my own death
exhaling the mist of a three quarter tone breath
like a pyramid of heartbeats everything is fainting
like the windless delicacy of the air in chinese paintings
i inhale the ashes of past deaths and dust
from butterflies wings and particles of rust
my eyes become gemstones, forgetting the fears
for glittering merely, not the shedding of tears
sleep recites the psalm of the damned.
no need to watch the flame of my life in the palm of my hand
as pale as the holy ghost, speaking many languages
no one knows the secret, no enemy vanquishes
the dream will watch over it, as i lie broken
no need to remain with eyes wide open
the pulp of roots and mile of cactus eases my pains
the quick silver drippings of the trees in my veins
a mattress of moss, candles in my branches
carried by the wind, buried by avalanches.
everything proceeds in slow motion under here.
no wonder. this is the sleep of one hundred years.
the friver is restless, and i have stopped breathing
an upside down swordfish pierced my parachute
fireflies flicker and it makes you want to hide your eyes
i breathe out gently right before my own death
exhaling the mist of a three quarter tone breath
like a pyramid of heartbeats everything is fainting
like the windless delicacy of the air in chinese paintings
i inhale the ashes of past deaths and dust
from butterflies wings and particles of rust
my eyes become gemstones, forgetting the fears
for glittering merely, not the shedding of tears
sleep recites the psalm of the damned.
no need to watch the flame of my life in the palm of my hand
as pale as the holy ghost, speaking many languages
no one knows the secret, no enemy vanquishes
the dream will watch over it, as i lie broken
no need to remain with eyes wide open
the pulp of roots and mile of cactus eases my pains
the quick silver drippings of the trees in my veins
a mattress of moss, candles in my branches
carried by the wind, buried by avalanches.
everything proceeds in slow motion under here.
no wonder. this is the sleep of one hundred years.
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The second part, which is not written, contains the most evocative and striking lyrics for me.. certainly on this album, possibly in Buck's entire recorded output:
The houseboat must've traveled during the night Seemingly strange outside, the climate and scenery changed Dawn was accelerated by the sound of fighting A woman screaming and choking, it was frightening I ran on deck filled with dread as well as anger To see a woman grasping for the chain of the anchor The situation was depressing and stressful She tried to drown herself in the river but was unsuccessful I was scrambling to figure out what to do first The more she wanted to live again, her screaming grew worse I pulled up the chain with the help of a drunken tramp She was soaking, hiccuping, spitting and choking The tramp shouted orders to those standing around Telling them what they should do for the drowned The woman was broken from what she had been through I offered her clothing for her to change into