Альбом The Hold Steady

Me and my friends are like the drums on "Lust for Life.” We pound it out on floor toms. Our songs are sing-along songs.

An’ this whole town is like this. We might wait our whole lives, just…work at the mill until you die. Work at the mill, and then you die. We’re gonna build something this summer. We’re gonna build something, this summer. We’ll put it back together—raise up a giant ladder with love and trust and friends and hammers. (This summer!) We’re gonna lean this ladder up against the water tower, climb up to the top and drink and talk. (This summer!)

Me and my friends are like ”Doublewhiskeycokenoice.” We drink along in double time; might drink too much, but we feel fine. We’re gonna build something, this summer. Gonna build something, this summer.

Grant us all the power to drink on top of water towers with love and trust and shows, all summer. (Get hammered!) Let this be my annual reminder that we can all be something bigger.

I went to your schools; I did my detention, but the walls are so gray, I couldn’t pay attention. I heard your gospel; it moved me to tears, but I couldn’t find the hate and I couldn’t find the fear. I met your savior. I knelt at his feet, and he took my ten bucks and went down the street. I tried to believe all the things that you said, but my friends that aren’t dying are already dead.

Raise a toast to St. Joe Strummer. I think he might’ve been our only decent teacher. Getting older makes it harder to remember…we are our only saviors. We’re gonna build something, this summer.

It started when we were dancing.
It got heavy when we got to the bathroom.
We didn't go back to her place, we went to some place where she can sit (?).
She said, "I know I look tired, but every thing's fried here in Memphis."
Now they want to know exactly which bathroom.
Dude, does it make any difference? It can't be important.
Yeah, sure I'll tell my story again...
In bar light she looked alright.
In daylight she looked desperate.
(?)And that night I was (?) desperate too.
I'm getting pretty sick of this interview.

Supoened in Texas.
Sequestered in Memphis.

I think she drove a new Mustang.
I guess it might be a rental.
I remember she had satellite radio.
I guess she seemed a bit nervous, do you think I'm that stupid?
Oh what the hell, I'll tell the story again.

In bar light she looked alright.
In daylight she looked desperate.
(?)And that night I was (?) desperate too.
I'm getting pretty sick of this interview.

Subpoenaed in Texas.
Sequestered in Memphis.

I went there on business.

When there weren’t any parties, she’d park by the quarry, walk into the woods until she came to a clearing where townies would gather and drink until blackout, smoke cigs till they’re sick, pack bowls, and then pass out. Windows wide open to let the hard rock in, theirs was a rage that didn’t need much convincing. The girls gave her glares, but the boys were quite pleasant. To be totally honest, they didn’t seem much different. When there weren’t any parties, sometimes she’d party with townies.

Out on the parkways, after the parties, it was always arousing, when they’d rev up their engines. It’s hard to describe, so she kept it a secret. The girls that she lived with, they knew nothing about it. The night with the fight and the butterfly knife, it was the first night she spent with that one guy she liked. She gave him a ride to some kid’s house in Cleveland. He stayed there for two weeks. The cops finally found him. He didn’t seem that different, except for the blood on his jacket. He didn’t seem that different, except for maybe his haircut. He didn’t seem much different. They didn’t seem that different, up until this one little incident. They didn’t seem much different…

Now, the cops wanna question everyone present. They parade every townie in town through the station, but no one says nothing, and they can’t find the weapon. The girl takes the stand, and she swears she was with him—her father’s lawyers do most of the talking.

She’s sick of the questions, sick of the concept of justice and fairness. "Who the hell cares who gets caught in the middle?" She smokes and she ponders this riddle: When one townie falls in the forest, can anyone hear it? When one townie falls…when one townie falls in the forest, does anyone notice?

One drop of blood, an immaculate kiss… Mom, do you know where your girl is? Sophomore accomplice in a turtleneck sweater... Dad, do you know where your kids are? Sniffing on crystal in cute little cars, getting nailed against dumpsters, behind townie bars. It’s a cute little town, boutiques and cafes. Her friends all seemed nice, she was getting good grades, but when she came home for Christmas, she just seemed distant and different.

I guess we met a couple a bona-fide angels
But they all seemed kinda fat and fatigued
And now we're trying to match their mouths to the screens
Match their heads to their dreams

Everybody's searching out the softest seat
All dialled up for the funeral feast
Everyone's stabbing at the biggest piece
Clever kids kissing on a (?) retreat

Now I'm not really sure we were lovers
Or if it was just some kind of car crash
And now we're trying to find a DNA match
To match their heads to their hats

Everybody's reaching for the sharpest knife
Legs wide open on the opening night
Everybody's bathing in the laser lights
Clever kids screwing with some (?) bites

Sunday morning, sidewalks flattered
Feverish in stylish tatters
Damn, this used to seem like (?)
I remember when it mattered

Can't get over what's transpired
Left home virgins, came back vampires
Built it out like back-scratched choirs
Really dead or really tired

Everybody's coming on their navy sheets
Everybody's coming on their navy sheets
Everybody wants to suck on something sweet
Everybody's coming on their navy sheets

Everybody's coming on their navy sheets
Everybody's coming on their navy sheets

lord, i'm discouraged
the circles have sucked in her eyes
lord, i'm discouraged
her new friends have shadowed her life
lord, i'm discouraged
she ain't come out dancing for some time
and i'm trying to light candles
but they burn down to nothing
and she keeps coming up with
excuses and half-truths and fortified wine
excuses and half-truths and fortified wine
excuses and half-truths and fortified wine
there's a house on the south side
where she stays in for days at a time

and now i know i'm no angel
but i ain't been bad that way
can't you hear her?
she's that sweet missing songbird
when the choir sings on sundays
and i'm almost busted
but i bought back the jewelry she sold
and i've clung to your altar
and then there's just nothing
she keeps insisting
the sutures and bruises are none of my business
she said that she's sick
but she won't get specific
the sutures and bruises are none of my business
there's a guy from the north side
who comes down and visits
and his visits, they only take five or six minutes

lord, i'm sorry to question your wisdom
but my faith has been wavering
won't you show me a sign
and let me know that you're listening?

excuses and half-truths and fortified wine
excuses and half-truths and fortified wine
excuses and half-truths and fortified wine
i don't know for sure if she's even alive
so i mostly just pray she don't die

Yeah, Sapphire
I'm sick and I'm tired and I'm fried
And you gotta believe me

Yeah, Sapphire
If I cross myself when I come,
Would you maybe receive me?

Yeah, Sapphire
You were feisty at first,
But I broke you and I showed you the temporal

Sacramento,
It swung at us first
But it ended up going down gentle

Sapphire, if Cheyenne's too small
We'll haul it all back to St. Paul
I was just about to call you
When you called

Yeah, Sapphire
I know the last time we touched
I came on a bit rough, please forgive me

Yeah, Sapphire
After you left, it was a big sketchy mess
They almost killed me

Sapphire, if Cheyenne's too small
We'll haul it all back to St. Paul
I was just about to call you
When you called

Sapphire, if St. Paul don't call
We've always got Aberdeen
'Cause dreams they seem to cost money
But money costs some dreams

It went just as you predicted
I swear there must be something in your dreams
It all went down exactly like your visions
And I know you said don't call until I'm clean

I'm not drunk, I'm cut
I'm gushing blood
And I need someone to come and pick me up

I was a sceptic at first, but these miracles work
I was a sceptic at first, but these miracles work
I was a sceptic at first, but these miracles work
I was a sceptic at first, but these miracles work

She said sometimes she sees these things
Right before they're happening
Hail Mary, full of grace
Some nights she swears she feels her face
She's been with a couple boys who died
And two of them were crucified
And the last one had enlightened eyes
But the first guy, he was Jesus Christ
Hey Judas, I know you've made a grave mistake
Hey Peter, you've been pretty sweet since Easter break

Now she's four A.M. and she's wide awake
She's shiverin' and smilin'
Let's clutch and kiss and sing and shake
Tonight, let's try to levitate
You Catholic girls, you start much too late
Baby, let's transverberate
Baby, let's transverberate
Baby, let's transverberate

But she saw the footage right before it got cut
And she saw the bodies and she saw the blood
She saw the angel put a sword in his side
And baby, that's how we got canonized
She saw him gushing blood right before it got cut
She saw him put a body in a bag in the trunk
She saw the guys coming in from the sides
And baby, that's how we get energized

She said, "You know I'm down to pay for it"
She said, "Just grant me some indulgences
Cause I've been mostly dying
And I've been mostly coughing
And I've been mostly crying
And I've been thinking 'bout both crosses"

She saw the film right before it came out
And at first she thought Judas might go for the mouth
And she saw the nails and she saw the hands
She saw the crown, she heard the band
And the new kid begged him not to do it
And Jesus just said, "Hey, I still love you Judas"
Since you've been up in Massachusetts
I've been dreaming 'bout dos cruces
And I've been thinking 'bout both crosses
And I've been dreaming 'bout dos cruces
Yeah I've been thinking 'about both crosses

Whoahoho

I've got a lot of old friends
That are getting back and touching
It's a pretty good feeling,
Yeah it feels pretty good

I get a lot of double-takes
When I'm coming round the corners
And it's mostly pretty nice
Yeah it's mostly pretty alright

'Cause most kids give me credit
For being down with it
When it was back in the day
Back when things were way different

When the youth of today
And the early seven seconds
Taught me some of life's most valuable lessons

There's gonna come a time
When the scene'll seem less sunny
It'll probably get druggy
And the kids will seem too skinny

There's gonna come a time
Where she's gonna have to go
With whoever's gonna get her the highest

There's gonna come a time
Where the true scene leaders
Will forget where they differ
And get big picture

'Cause the kids at the shows
They'll have kids of their own
And the sing-along songs will be our scriptures

Whoahoho
We gotta stay positive
Whoahoho
We gotta stay positive
Whoahoho
We gotta stay positive
Whoahoho
We gotta stay positive

When the chaparone crowned us the king and the queen
I knew that we'd arrived at a unified scene
And all those little lambs from my dreams,
Well they were there too

'Cause it's one thing to start it with a positive jam
And it's another thing to see it on through
And we couldn't have even done this,
If it wasn't for you

Whoahoho
We gotta stay positive
Whoahoho
We gotta stay positive
Whoahoho
We gotta stay positive
Whoahoho

She's always funny in the morning
She isn't always funny in the night
Once she gets a couple of drinks in
She's probably gonna tell you
You ain't doing anything right
And then you'll roll your eyes
And then you'll probably fight

She made a (?) and adorations
She gets pretty wasted at the celebrations
Benefits and the building dedications

It's always sunny in the morning
Sucks around the ending of the night
When she storms out of the restaurant
I think you're supposed to chase her to the lights
One boy hits her like a tamborine
Another dissing me on her message machine

Magazines and daddy issues
I know you're pretty pissed
I hope you'll still let me kiss you

(Magazines and daddy issues
I know you're pretty pissed
I hope you'll still let me kiss you)

Magazines and daddy issues
I know you're pretty pissed
I hope you'll still let me kiss you

(Magazines and daddy issues
I know you're pretty pissed
I hope you'll still let me kiss you)

I hope you'll still let me kiss you
I hope you'll still let me kiss you

One boy calls while the other texts
She's got boys on board and boys on deck
Second dates and lipstick tissues
New York is pretty heavy
Girl, I hope it doesn't crush you

(Magazines and daddy issues
I know you're pretty pissed
I hope you'll still let me kiss you)

Second dates and lipstick tissues
New York is pretty heavy
Girl, I hope it doesn't crush you

(Magazines and daddy issues
I know you're pretty pissed
I hope you'll still let me kiss you)

They used to think it was so cute
When she said "Dyer Maker"
All the boys knew it was a joke about Jamaica
She'd always find a ride back home from the bar

She used to feel so stupid
When they'd talk about the music
Born into every single tune
They used to hum against her lips
With their hands against her hips
They used to kiss in the car

Dancing days, houses of the holy
Hot-shot in the city in the middle of the prairie
Floating with the boys, with all her charms
At first the laugh, then the eyes
Then the touch-em-on-the-arm's
And the drinks, they'd never seem to cost money
And Saturday night was a runway
That extended into Sunday
And sometimes Monday

Back then it was beautiful
The boys were sweet and musical
The laser lights looked mystical
Messed up stuff felt magical
Girls didn't seem so difficult
Boys didn't seem so typical
It was warm and white and wonderful
We were all invincible

Tired eyes, trampled on her foot
Dazed and confused
C-C-C-C-Cocaine blues
She hasn't got any eye contact tonight

The boys are getting younger
And the bands are getting louder
And the new girls are coming up
Like some light on open flowers
She's pretty sure that that's where their power is

Back then it was unified
The punks, the skins, the greaser guys
Then one summer, two kids died
And one of them was crucified
Now it's so competitive
The sleeplessness and sedatives
I know it sounds repetitive
Every show can't be a (?)

We were kids in the crowd
Now we're dogs in this war
We were (?) with new wings
Now we're bugs in the jar
We were hot, soft and pure
Now we're scratched up in scars
We were counting cards
Now we eat in our cars
The boys in the band
They know they'll never be stars

Back then they were quite convinced
Firing and (?)
The front row girls were posturing
We were all imagining
And man, we had some massive nights
Some (?), some bloody fights
Back before those two kids died

Don’t tell my sister about your most recent vision. Don’t tell my family—they’re all wicked-strict Christian. Don’t tell the hangers-on, don’t tell your friends. Don’t tell them we went down to Ybor City, again. Don’t tell the dancers, they’ll just get distracted. Don’t tell the DJs. They already suspect us. Don’t mention the bloodshed, don’t mention the scams. Don’t tell them Ybor City almost killed us, again.

We are the theatre, they are the people—dressed up to be seated, lookin’ upwards and dreamin’. We’re the projectors. We’re hosting the screening. We’re dust in the spotlights…we’re just kinda floating.

Don’t drop little hints. I don’t want them to guess. Don’t mention Tampa, they’ll just know all the rest. Don’t mention bloodshed, don’t tell them it hurts. Don’t say we saw angels, they’ll take us straight to the church. They queue up for tickets to see the performance—they push to get closer, lookin’ upwards with wonder. We are the actors. The cameras are rollin’. I’ll be Ben Gazzara, you’ll be Gena Rowlands.

Sometimes, actresses get slapped. Sometimes, actresses get slapped. Sometimes, fake fights turn out bad. Sometimes, actresses get slapped. Some nights, makin’ it look real might end up with someone hurt. Some nights, it’s just entertainment, and, some other nights, it’s real.

They come in for the feeding, to sit in stadium seating. They’re holding their hands out for the body and blood, now. We’re the directors—our hands will hold steady. I’ll be John Cassavettes—let me know when you’re ready. Man, we make our own movies. Man, we make our own movies. Man, we make our own movies. Man, we make our own movies.