My heart became a drunken runt
On the day i sunk in this shunt
To tap me clean
Of all the wonder
And the sorrow I have seen
Since I left my home:
My home on the old Milk Lake
Where the darkness does fall so fast
It feels like some kind of mistake
(Just like they told you it would;
just like the Tulgeywood).
When i came into my land
I did not understand:
Neither dry rot, nor the burn pile
Nor the bark-beetle, nor the dry well,
Nor the black bear.
But there is another,
who is a little older
When I broke my bone,
he carried me up from the riverside
To spend my life
in spitting distance,
of the love that I have known,
I must stay here, in an endless eventide.
And if you come and see me
you will upset the order.
You cannot come and see me,
For I set myself apart.
But when you come and see me,
in California
you cross the border of my heart.
Well, I have sown untidy furrows
across my soul,
but I am still a coward,
content to see my garden grow
so sweet & full
of someone else's flowers.
But sometimes
I can almost feel the power.
Sometimes I am so in love with you
(like a little clock
that trembles on the edge of the hour,
only ever calling out "Cuckoo, cuckoo")
When I called you,
you, little one
in a bad way,
did you love me?
Do you spite me?
Time will tell if I can be well,
and rise to meet you rightly.
While, moving across my land,
brandishing themselves
like a burning branch,
advance the tallow-colored,
wall-eyed deer,
quiet as gondoliers,
while I wait all night, for you,
in California,
watching the fox pick off my goldfish
from their sorry, golden state-
and I am no longer afraid
of anything, save
the life that, here, awaits.
I don't belong to anyone.
My heart is heavy as an oil drum.
I don't want to be alone.
My heart is yellow as an ear of corn,
and I have torn my soul apart, from
pulling artlessly with fool commands.
Some nights
I just never go to sleep at all,
and I stand,
shaking in the doorway like a sentinel,
all alone,
bracing like the bow upon a ship,
and fully abandoning
any thought of anywhere
but home,
my home.
Sometimes I can almost feel the power.
And I do love you.
Is it only timing,
that has made it such a dark hour,
only ever chiming out,
"Cuckoo, cuckoo"?
My heart, I wear you down, I know
Gotta think straight,
Keep a clean plate;
keep from wearing down.
If I lose my head
Just where am I going to lay it?
(For it has half-ruined me,
to be hanging around,
here, among the Daphne,
blooming out the big brown;
I am native to it, but I'm overgrown.
I am choked my roots
on the earth, as rich as roe,
here,
down in California)
Corrected lyrics and better formatting:
My heart became a drunken runt On the day i sunk in this shunt To tap me clean Of all the wonder And the sorrow I have seen Since I left my home: My home on the old Milk Lake Where the darkness does fall so fast It feels like some kind of mistake (Just like they told you it would; just like the Tulgeywood).
When i came into my land I did not understand: Neither dry rot, nor the burn pile Nor the bark-beetle, nor the dry well, Nor the black bear.
But there is another, who is a little older When I broke my bone, he carried me up from the riverside
To spend my life in spitting distance, of the love that I have known, I must stay here, in an endless eventide.
And if you come and see me you will upset the order. You cannot come and see me, For I set myself apart. But when you come and see me, in California you cross the border of my heart.
Well, I have sown untidy furrows across my soul, but I am still a coward, content to see my garden grow so sweet & full of someone else's flowers. But sometimes I can almost feel the power. Sometimes I am so in love with you (like a little clock that trembles on the edge of the hour, only ever calling out "Cuckoo, cuckoo")
When I called you, you, little one in a bad way, did you love me? Do you spite me? Time will tell if I can be well, and rise to meet you rightly. While, moving across my land, brandishing themselves like a burning branch, advance the tallow-colored, wall-eyed deer, quiet as gondoliers, while I wait all night, for you, in California, watching the fox pick off my goldfish from their sorry, golden state- and I am no longer afraid of anything, save the life that, here, awaits.
I don't belong to anyone. My heart is heavy as an oil drum. I don't want to be alone. My heart is yellow as an ear of corn, and I have torn my soul apart, from pulling artlessly with fool commands. Some nights I just never go to sleep at all, and I stand, shaking in the doorway like a sentinel, all alone, bracing like the bow upon a ship, and fully abandoning any thought of anywhere but home, my home. Sometimes I can almost feel the power. And I do love you. Is it only timing, that has made it such a dark hour, only ever chiming out, "Cuckoo, cuckoo"?
Cu-ckoo, cu-ckoo, koo, ha-a, ha-hour, ha-a, ha-a [x4]
My heart, I wear you down, I know Gotta think straight, Keep a clean plate; keep from wearing down. If I lose my head Just where am I going to lay it?
(For it has half-ruined me, to be hanging around, here, among the Daphne, blooming out the big brown; I am native to it, but I'm overgrown. I am choked my roots on the earth, as rich as roe, here, down in California)