Louise

"it is possible to see in this debris,"
i say these words your mother said to me,
"paint it gold upon the bleeding red walls,
in the hallway where the clock rings
and light switches turn the sea,
the lightning and the sound
lead the ships out to the sea."
and the horn that you will blow into the air
i can recall the tone, how it'll never sound the same to me
i love to hear them coming from your mouth
but you never want to blow them just for me
i could ask you if you never lied to me
then why did you insist on playing parodies for friends
if you could tell me
it would delight me
but i know that you don't care
so tell me why you ever acted like you did
it's been a weakness or an obstacle,
the telling lies;
i sense it may be more than mere disguise in truth for clarity
won't you tell me,
won't you tell me,
won't you tell me,
louise
and i know that this would linger in obscurity
and i can see you running 'round the town, so obviously--
searching for that fun that you just can't buy
but life is cruel sometimes
its moments linger longer sometimes
making people stronger sometimes
making people long for a moment that would last much longer
and i cry for you
i know that you're afraid to die
i'd love to see you happy, but i hate to see you try to break into me
only for that reason that i can't completely hide
but my peace of mind is more than you will find
in your empty little games in life
and i can see you running 'round the town, so obviously--
searching for that fun you just can't buy
but life is cruel sometimes