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Lofty Pines Lyrics
It's too hot to sleep.
Let's gather 'round the fan.
We can't do nothin' bout the heat,
so let's just do what we can
and everything 'll be just fine.
Just dream of the Lofty Pines.
Well, I dreamed of the Lofty Pines-
at least what I thought they were-
standing in the forest after nighttime,
swaying so cool and sure.
Sure had never been so wrong;
sure like the title of the perfect song.
Now for the spectacular part.
Just then, a pack of matches fell:
a logo of a tree in a heart.
They're from the Lofty Pines Motel.
All the while our dreams were our own.
All the while that didn't mean all alone.
Well, I gave the editor my pitch:
a series on our cultural wealth,
about the "error of catalogues and lists."
I call it "Why We Fight...Ourselves,"
If only we had nothing to say.
If only we'd done nothing that day.
"Je suis nee pour la chaleur,"
she said, in her Manhattan French.
"On ne peut rien faire de la chaleur,"
We'll just have to take that chance.
We've got world enough and time,
dreaming of the Lofty Pines.
Let's gather 'round the fan.
We can't do nothin' bout the heat,
so let's just do what we can
and everything 'll be just fine.
Just dream of the Lofty Pines.
at least what I thought they were-
standing in the forest after nighttime,
swaying so cool and sure.
Sure had never been so wrong;
sure like the title of the perfect song.
Just then, a pack of matches fell:
a logo of a tree in a heart.
They're from the Lofty Pines Motel.
All the while our dreams were our own.
All the while that didn't mean all alone.
a series on our cultural wealth,
about the "error of catalogues and lists."
I call it "Why We Fight...Ourselves,"
If only we had nothing to say.
If only we'd done nothing that day.
she said, in her Manhattan French.
"On ne peut rien faire de la chaleur,"
We'll just have to take that chance.
We've got world enough and time,
dreaming of the Lofty Pines.
Song Info
Submitted by
stony Lonesome On May 10, 2004
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It's terrible when what you thought was lofty and noble turns out to be cheap and tawdry, but that's what happens to art.
We're told to dream of the lofty pines as an antidote to the heat, and we envision them in an idealized form, tall, cool, and sure. It's tempting to consider some other well-known pines: Tom Thomson's The Jack Pine and The West Wind, for example. This could be Canada idealized, or art idealized.
But actually, we're dreaming of a motel, one with a seedy logo. Presumably, there are no idealized pines there, just another variety of heat. The idea of the lofty pines has been cheapened and commercialized.
And our editor, who we (foolishly?) pitch the idea of a series on culture, doesn't much care about this dilemma. She has no need to dream of the lofty pines. She was born for the heat, and besides, there's nothing you can do about it in any case. Regardless, we keep on dreaming.
so we dream and the reality is always cheap and tawdry and seedy, but we keep dreaming on like idiots anyways. cool.
The spectacular part is how our dreams sometimes conincide with reality, though not always in the way we expect them too.