Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Day in America, artist - Sun Kil Moon. Album song I Also Want to Die in New Orleans, in the genre Инди
Date of issue: 28.02.2019
Record label: Caldo Verde
Song language: English
Day in America |
Deadliest school shooting since Sandy Hook |
On Valentine’s Day yesterday in Florida, it tore legs |
It’s 5:30 AM, the news has been on since I’ve been home |
Since one o’clock in the morning |
I’ve been wakin' up every hour or so, lookin' at the CNN TV glow |
Came home, opened my email |
My friend Kevin asked, «How are you processing this?» |
I said I was in the studio gettin' ready to sing |
Then the drummer walked in and said, «Hey, did you see this?» |
I said, «What?» |
He said, «Looks like another high school shooting» |
I said, «Where?» |
He said, «Looks like it happened about an hour north of Miami» |
I said, «How many?» |
He said, «It looks like fourteen, or something» |
I told Kevin, from that point on |
My band discussed it for maybe 20 minutes |
Donny said, «Why don’t they just get rid of the guns |
Like they did in Australia?» |
I sat there befuddled and said, «I don’t know what to tell ya |
But the Republicans like having their right to bear arms |
Even if it blows kids off the planet |
They spend rest of their lives without their legs and arms |
The Republicans believe in their right to bear arms |
No matter the rising death toll |
And the amount of harm it causes to innocent people |
They have their right to bear arms» |
And, honestly, from that point on, we picked up our instruments |
I got three musicians out here from New York |
And we’re here to play music, and they were on the clock |
So until I got home tonight and saw your email |
All the thoughts about the Florida shooting, I blocked |
Another player had joined us last night around 6 or 7 |
We were improvising on a piece of music |
That he said sorta reminded him of Bill Evans |
It sounded good to me, it sounded like a slice of Heaven |
Jim was playin' his drums but Donny wouldn’t play |
And after about 15 minutes of this beautiful piano playing |
Donny stood up and said |
«You guys, this doesn’t sound like Bill Evans» |
I said, «What do you mean?» |
He said, «This is Bill Evans» |
I asked the drummer, «Did you notice?» |
He said, «Yes» |
And I said, «Well, what in the fuck are we doin'?» |
I said to the player who had joined us |
Here for fifteen solid minutes |
I was like, «Damn, this piece of music is genius» |
And he said, «Well, like I said |
It’s this left-handed thing in the style of Bill Evans» |
I said, «But Donny and Jim said it actually is Bill Evans |
And thank God they were here to tell me this, thank Evans |
Or I would have released this beautiful song |
And someone would have called me out |
And said, «You ripped off Bill Evans» |
I asked the guys, «Who is this guy, anyhow?» |
«It's Bill Evans,» he said |
«One of the most famous jazz pianists in the world» |
I said, «I think I may have heard of him |
Or maybe I’m getting him confused |
With the chain food restaurant Bob Evans |
Bob Evans, yeah, I got that association, Bob Evans» |
I was with my friend’s sister Debbie |
When I was 18 in Ohio at a local thrash metal show |
We walked outside to have a cigarette |
It was freezing outside, the ground was covered in snow |
When a girl confronted Debbie outside and said |
«You think you’re so fuckin' cool |
With your nose in the air, don’t you?» |
Debbie said, «What are you even talkin' about? |
I’ve never even met you» |
The girl said, «You're a fuckin' snob |
I’ve been standing around and observin' you all night |
With your dyed black hair |
You think you’re too cool for school, don’t you?» |
Debbie got tense, raised her voice |
And said, «So I’ve traveled a bit |
What do you know about anything? |
What do you know?» |
Debbie’s tone was getting aggressive and escalating |
She said to the girl «Where in the fuck have you ever been to |
In this world besides Ohio?» |
The girl just stood there and got this big smirk on her face |
And I thought, «Oh no» |
And she sucker punched Debbie |
Knocked her ass down to the ground |
And spit in her face and walked back to the thrash metal show |
I lifted Debbie from the snow |
And she stood there sobbing and sobbing |
Her brother came up to me and said, «Mark, what’s goin' on? |
What happened to Debbie?» |
I said, «Man, it all happened so fast |
I’m sorry I didn’t do anything to protect your sister» |
He pulled me aside, he said, «Let me tell you something, Mark |
Don’t worry about it, she’s always had a mouth on her» |
I said, «I know, but she’s your sister, I’ve got her back |
You enjoy the concert, I’ve got it from here» |
And I said, «Don't worry about this, Debbie will shake it off |
Now let’s get the fuck out of here» |
We got in her car |
And I told her I understood this humiliating feeling |
Oh, I got knocked out a few times myself |
And I know it’s humbling and embarrassing |
So we went to Bob Evans and sat and drank coffee |
And I tried to talk Debbie into a calmer state |
She was so distracted and I tried to console her |
But she was clearly hijacked |
In too much emotional pain for conversation |
Said, «Debbie, drop me off» |
And from that point on, I don’t think I ever heard from her again |
I think it’s because she associates me with that bad night |
That ended at Bob Evans, and I understand |
And on the way home, I said to my friend |
«Why'd you kick off tonight with the Bill Evans song?» |
He said, «I was just tryin' to ease into things» |
I said, «That's cool, but we’re not a cover band |
We’re here to make an album of original songs» |
He said, «Yeah, I guess that was wrong» |
I said, «Yeah man, everything is sort of anticlimactic |
When you try to come up with fresh ideas after playing Bill Evans» |
He said, «Yeah you’re right, I don’t know what I was thinking» |
I said, «Hey don’t worry about it |
Everything else you played sounded amazing» |
So anyhow, I came home and I turned on the news |
Angry as I always get when these things happen |
Tryin' to think of what I could do |
To help the cause, to influence people |
To do what I can to change gun laws |
For starters, I’m gonna dedicate a song |
To the kids from Florida who didn’t live long, whose families grieve |
While the rest of the world gets on their phones |
And their lives go on |
And maybe in the song, I’ll share my own private thoughts |
In fact, I think I will |
I think they should go Django Unchained on the killer they caught |
Hang him upside down and cut off his balls |
Bleed him to death and let him bleed a slow, bloody death |
When 17 kids are murdered, you skip due process |
I don’t care if he was vulnerable |
In a home full of drug abuse and incest |
Or allegedly brainwashed by white supremacists |
Whatever the case may be for him |
Yeah, it’s very sad and unfortunate |
But escorting this man from the planet |
Is in everyone’s best interest |
When a guy can kill 17 kids, dispose of him quick and fast |
I live in San Francisco |
And my thoughts on this might go against the flow |
But yeah, I think they should torture him to death |
With whatever the methods may have been used at Guantanamo |
Make an example of him and hang him up to dry |
I say more aggressive action |
Should be taken against mass shooters, at least give it a try |
Anyone who maps out the death of innocent kids |
Should not have the privilege of bein' alive |
Maybe the parents of the kids will get together |
And kill him vigilante-style |
Maybe somebody down in the local jail |
Will meet up with him in the infirmary and stab him 17 times |
And justice will prevail, and that’ll be the end of the story |
Of the Valentine’s Day killer’s miserable life |
So I asked Kevin by email, «By the way |
How are you processing this? |
It’s gotta be harder for you than it is for me |
You got a 13-year-old kid» |
But Kevin’s on New York time |
And it’s 6:30 AM, and so far from Kevin no reply |
Another day in America, another day in the life |
Another day in America, another day in the life |
Another day in America, another day in the life |
Another day in America, another day in the life |
Republicans will say, «This is been a sad day in America |
We’re sorry for the families of the dead children» |
Then they’ll go on about second amendment rights |
And stand there with their white dicks and their white hands |
And stand next to their white wives |
Another day in America, another bag of white rice |
I just woke up this morning, February 15th |
I had a dream about AR-15s, probably based on the news |
That said eight million Americans own AR-15s |
And I dreamed I was doin' vocals |
I asked my engineer what kind of mic we’re usin' today |
And he said, «An AR-15» |
I said, «Isn't that the name of the gun |
That did the killing at the school yesterday?» |
And he said, «No, that was an M-49» |
I said, «I thought we normally use the U-47» |
He said, «Sometimes, other times we use an Audio Technica 4060 |
Or the Shure SM-7» |
I said, «Well, they all sound like automatic weapons to me |
That send innocent kids off to heaven |
So I prefer if we don’t use the AR-15» |
And he said, «But it’s the best microphone this studio has available» |
I said, «But that microphone |
Is what politicians use at press conferences» |
Then I woke up from the dream |
So that’s it, I got out of bed and took a bath |
And got ready to go to the studio |
And I got Kevin’s reply by email |
I called him up and asked if he would kindly read it to me |
I don’t think I am processing it |
Unless reading about it on the internet counts |
Reading it and internalizing what’s |
Being written about it and tweeted about it |
Which is that nothing ever changes |
And that another shooting will happen every 16 hours |
That Columbine was 20 years ago now |
It was in the news at that time for months and years |
But Parkland will likely disappear from the news cycle in a week |
George Carlin used the expression «circling the drain» |
Circling the drain to describe the human condition |
I believe the, our, this ceaseless, endless madness and violence |
And the resulting information overload |
And the subsequent collective amnesia |
Has to mean we’re so close to the drain at this point |
Circling it so intensely at this point |
That the experience can no longer be processed |
Because we’re moving too fast |
And because we’re being processed |
Pulsed, like vegetables |