Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Soap for Joyful Hands, artist - Sun Kil Moon. Album song This Is My Dinner, in the genre Инди
Date of issue: 31.10.2018
Record label: Caldo Verde
Song language: English
Soap for Joyful Hands |
Walked back to the hotel last night, tired as hell with my band |
Madrid was canceled, yeah |
Even with all those allegedly competent stage hands |
They couldn’t fix the calibration on the PA system |
And the snare drum was missing |
And an amplifier was blown |
And the feedback wouldn’t stop hissing |
They talked in Spanish, I gave them two chances to fix the thing |
But they scratched their heads, and among themselves |
They kept whispering and whispering |
I asked a band member who understands a little bit of Spanish, «What are they |
saying?» |
He shook his head and said, «Don't think this show is happening» |
Got into my hotel room and I called Caroline, back in the States |
She was cooking a turkey with her parents in LA, it was Thanksgiving Day |
Though I was tired, I spent some time blow drying my socks |
That I washed in the sink a few V-neck T-shirts and a pair of pants |
With some hotel hand soap, the wrapper said «Soap for Joyful Hands» |
I went and laid down, under the thin sheets of my Spanish bed |
Fell asleep and had a dream about the twin sisters |
Whom outside the venue I met |
It would have been great to slay the crowd |
To thrown down on that stage |
But it could not be done with that old dusty outdated PA system |
Dialed in for performance art and children’s plays and stand-up comedians and |
magicians |
It was not dialed in for dynamic bands who play a few decibels above medium |
Before I went to sleep, I called all the guys in my band |
About the lobby call in the morning and the basic layout of tomorrow’s plans |
What time do we leave for Oporto? |
When will the plane land? |
My socks were hanging out to dry on the doorknobs, the curtain rods, |
on the bedsides stands, even on the lamps |
Washed with Madrid tap-water and «Soap for Joyful Hands» |
Seat 9C, Iberia Air, al Oporto to Heathrow via Madrid |
Last night, we played in a town called Espinho outside of Oporto, Portugal |
Our hotel was on the beach and the air smelled so, so wonderfully tide pool-y |
I went for a walk along the rocks that went straight out into the ocean |
And the rocks started getting slippery |
When I got to the edge, I was about to take a photo with my disposable camera |
When a sneaker wave came out of nowhere and I got hammered |
I walked back to the hotel, drenched with ocean and tide pool in my mouth |
Getting drenched by that water out of nowhere, for me, that’s what’s life’s all |
about |
And I even love the routine stuff, the day-to-day-to-day-to-day-to-day |
I find poetry in the day-to-day |
I find it in the emptiest, loneliest, most boring, and uneventful days |
But it’s the curveballs that hit us out of nowhere that make us say |
«Fuck, thank god I’m alive today! |
Thank god I’m alive to taste the ocean today! |
Thank god I’m alive to smell the fish soup and boiled shrimp today!» |
That sneaker wave woke me up and made me realize what a gift I’ve been given in |
life |
I’ve got friends who didn’t get this far because they committed suicide |
I’ve got friends who didn’t get this far because they had heart attacks and |
fell off the couch and died |
I’ve got friends who didn’t get this far because of cancer, they died |
That sneaker wave woke me up and made me realize |
What a beautiful gift I’ve been given |
One day I’ll wake up in Stockholm snow |
And one day I’ll wake up to the sunshine in Portugal |
Came back to my still-wet clothes |
Washed with «Soap For Joyful Hands» and Spanish water |
And hung them to dry on the balcony of the hotel on shirt hangers |
I went to play the show in Espinho and we sang «I Love Portugal, |
I Love Portugal» |
I told them the story of the first time we played there in the 90's with the |
Red House Painters |
When we played Soul Coughing last minute at a festival |
And how we got whistled at and pelted by garbage thrown at us by the fans |
And how it made me smile like Satan, how I met two guys named Vasco and Miguel |
Who became my very good lifelong friends |
After the show last night in Espinho I met a woman who asked |
«Mark, besides music, what are your other passions?» |
I said, «I'm fifty years old, baby, I find laying on the couch very relaxing |
And I also enjoy reading books with my new reading glasses |
And I enjoy being 50, and not suffering from pancreatic cancer |
And I enjoyed waking up after being anesthetized from a colonoscopy and finding |
out I didn’t have colon cancer |
You want to know what my other passions besides living my dream of playing my |
music? |
Those are your answers» |
She said, «I just mean other passions, you know, things besides playing music, |
dude» |
I said, «If I put any effort into other passions |
I’d not be here standing in Portugal, talking to you» |
I said, «Do you get what I’m saying? |
If I had any other passions like dairy farming or freeing animals from the zoo |
I’d not be standing here right now in Espinho, Portugal talking to you» |
She said, «I'm not sure if you know what I mean |
When I ask you if you have other hobbies or passions» |
I said, «Look, there are three things I do |
I play music and eat and I watch boxing matches |
To do what I do for a living, baby, other passions would be called distraction |
Having other passions would make me one of those hobbyist musicians who takes |
twenty years to make four lousy albums» |
It was raining outside and I said, «Hey, it’s been a nice conversation, |
but I gotta get going» |
And I got in the van with my band and we went to the hotel by the ocean |
And I was like, «Fuck, my socks are still wet» |
The socks I washed with «Soap For Joyful Hands» |
And now they’re even more drenched the Oporto rain |
And I was like, «Fuck, god damn» |
Now I made my Madrid connection |
With my plastic bag of wet socks in my luggage bag |
On my way to Heathrow and when my plane lands |
Going right for the hotel room to hang my socks to dry and wash with «Soap For |
Joyful Hands» |
Now I’m on my way to Heathrow and when my plane lands |
Gonna pray that my socks washed with «Soap For Joyful Hands» |
Are dry for my show at Shepherd’s Bush tomorrow night |
Because I don’t feel like going to Westfield Mall |
And shopping for socks |
God, I hate that fucking place |
It reminds me of being a kid when I was small and falling to my knees and going |
«Mom, let’s go home, I’m fucking bored!» |
I know you’re all thinking, «What's the big deal? |
Just go to H&M and buy some new socks» |
But maybe you don’t think like I do, you see, I’m very sentimental about my |
socks |
They’re Christmas gifts from my sister and from my father and my |
ex-girlfriend's grandmother |
And there’s a pair that in Ålesund, Norway I bought |
I’m very sentimental about my socks |
I wanna sleep tomorrow until 3:30 in the afternoon |
I’m fucking tired and I need some serious fucking sleep |
I’ve been to fourteen different countries in the last three weeks |
Not for the money, not for the ego trip, not for the potential after-show action |
I’m here right now because this is my passion |
I’m up here right now in front of you |
Not because of the decision I made to become a musician |
If I wasn’t doing this, what else would I be doing? |
Do I strike you as a man who would be English teaching? |
I’m on airplanes every fucking day |
Trying to get from Amsterdam to Helsinki to Espinho to to Warsaw to Oslo to |
Copenhagen to Dublin to Tel Aviv to Reykjavik to Athens |
Because baby, let me tell you something, this is my one life’s passion |
And if that girl I met in Portugal was here, I think she’d say |
«Well, I think I’ve tapped into one of your other passions |
You’re on some trip about socks, and it’s totally neurotic» |
I’d say, «Yea, whatever you say, but look I wrote a song about it |
A captivating song about washing socks in hotel sinks |
Who else can give you that? |
Graham Nash, Steely Dan, or Ed Sheeran, |
Glenn Hansard? |
The only guy in this whole world who could write a poetic song about cheap |
hotel soap is Jonathan Richman |
But it wouldn’t be quite like mine, because I’m a unique motherfucker from a |
town in Ohio called Massillon |
Nobody can catch the poetry in washing socks with hand soap at hotels like I can |
You see asking me, 'Mark, what are your other passions?' |
Would be like me asking Leonardo DiCaprio |
'Hey Leo, what are your other passions besides acting?' |
He’d call his agent and say |
'Please remove this person, he’s breaking my concentration' |
Now have I made my point? |
I hope so |
And when my plane lands, I hope my socks are dry overnight |
That I washed with «Soap For Joyful Hands» |
And when my plane lands, I hope my socks will dry overnight |
For tomorrow I have a show in Shepherd’s Bush that I washed with wintery |
tap-water and «Soap For Joyful Hands» |
And when my plane lands, I hope my socks are dry overnight |
That I washed with «Soap For Joyful Hands» |
And when my plane lands, I hope my socks will dry overnight |
For tomorrow night’s show at Shepherd’s Bush that I washed with «Soap For |
Joyful Hands» and Madrid tap-water |
And when my plane lands |
And when my plane |
And when my plane lands |
And my plane lands |
And when my plane lands |