Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Saturday Dec 14 2013, artist - Flatsound. Album song Old Soil (Spoken Word Pieces From 2012-2013), in the genre Альтернатива
Date of issue: 27.06.2018
Record label: Flatsound
Song language: English
Saturday Dec 14 2013 |
It’s been exactly one year since I wrote that first poem about you |
I sat in bed and started thinking about what happened at Sandy Hook |
And how fragile life is |
And how much I wanted you in mine |
When you read it you said you teared up |
And couldn’t believe whatever this was we found in each other |
You called it indescribable |
I lied in the same spot a year later with you beside me |
Emotionless |
Thinking about how I watched you change with every season |
How spring turned into summer turned into autumn turned into winter |
How the purity of something new became as hot as the persistent day as it rests |
too heavily on tired flowers |
And how when that tiredness wins |
They die like everything else |
I could feel my chest collapsing that night I sat in the stairway and read |
every word you had written to someone else while you were gone |
How you teared up when you read the words he wrote to you |
How you couldn’t believe what you found |
You even called it indescribable |
Now I can’t stop thinking about what those words might have been and how they |
compare to mine |
I can’t sleep because I need to know what you found and if it feels anything |
like what I lost |
I’m sorry if I’m so stuck in this |
It’s just before you came along I spent four years with someone who would watch |
me watch the world but couldn’t hold my hand and see what I saw |
Someone who loved me so much but couldn’t understand how a human soul could |
mimic the seasons |
Or how a person can be fine for so long but wake up one morning wanting to die |
all over again |
So when that feeling rises over the mountains all I ask of the world is that |
they greet it differently than pagans when they worship the sun |
I am old soil mixed with the compulsion to describe what used to grow here |
To describe the indescribable sensation of life in a dying field |
As if remembering the smell of your blossoms is the only thing keeping me alive |