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Colour Fields Lyrics
All clear
Good Lord
Did well to be ignored
Your falling temperature
Like cooling kisses
All through your head
A made-up water's edge
A summer gone on tabling fabled blisses
I'd love to see you waving
From the far side of the swim
Gathered in by a waiting troop of the open-hearted
Where colour field meets canvas
And the picture breathes you in
Where all the stories meant for you have already started
Bright girl, dead town
Walking tail but blown around
The secret chainmail gown of your father's blessing
Bright girl, dead town
Open mouths for miles around
I still see you keeping those dough boys guessing
Good Lord
Did well to be ignored
Your falling temperature
Like cooling kisses
All through your head
A made-up water's edge
A summer gone on tabling fabled blisses
From the far side of the swim
Gathered in by a waiting troop of the open-hearted
Where colour field meets canvas
And the picture breathes you in
Where all the stories meant for you have already started
Walking tail but blown around
The secret chainmail gown of your father's blessing
Bright girl, dead town
Open mouths for miles around
I still see you keeping those dough boys guessing
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I keep reading reviews that suggest this song is about advising the "local bombshell" to shake off the dust of her provincial town and go to the bright lights of the big city, but I don't think it's that, exactly - I think she's queer.
The "fabled blisses" she's tabling are dreams of a love that she can't openly have in her closed-minded "dead town." That's why her father's blessing provides her with secret chainmail, that's why the dough boys (sounds like "dull boys" to me) are so confused by her. The "open mouths" could be about her beauty, but they could also be about the shock on people's faces when she comes out (or is outed.)
He's looking forward to the day she can live somewhere more accepting, and her dream can become a reality. I sort of imagine him singing this to a teenage niece or something.
A dead town, surely only for a while, in those hopefully brief times, when the artist forgot how to paint and the gardener forgot how to grow?
Faded dreams, like lost ideals and hidden shared life visions, or more sadly just the wrong ending to a fairy story where the woman has the wings.
There’s a military connection here I can’t quite piece together: