Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Be Safe, artist - The Cribs. Date of issue: 11.05.2007
Song language: English
Be Safe |
| One of those fucking awful black days |
| When nothing is pleasing and everything that happens |
| Is an excuse for anger |
| An outlet for emotions stockpiled |
| An arsenal. |
| An armour |
| These are the days when I hate the world |
| Hate the rich, hate the happy |
| Hate the complacent — the TV watchers |
| The beer drinkers, the satisfied ones |
| Because I know I can be all of those little hateful things |
| And then I hate myself for realizing that |
| There is no preventative directive or safe approach to living |
| We each know our own fate |
| We know from our youth how we are treated |
| How we’ll be received, how we shall end |
| These things don’t change |
| You can change your clothes |
| Change your hairstyle, your friends, cities, continents |
| But sooner or later your own self will always catch up |
| Always it waits in the wings |
| (Ideas swirl but don’t stick |
| They appear but then run off like rain on the windshield) |
| One of those rainy day car rides, my head imploding |
| The atmosphere in this car a mirror of my skull |
| Wet, damp, windows dripping and misted with cold |
| Walls of grey. |
| Nothing good on the radio, not a thought in my head |
| I know a place we can go where you’ll fall in love so hard that |
| You’ll wish you were dead |
| Let’s take life and slow it down incredibly slow |
| Frame by frame |
| The two minutes that take ten years to live out |
| Yeah, let’s do that |
| «Telephone poles like praying mantis against the sky |
| Metal arms outstretched» |
| So much land travelled, so little sense made of it |
| It doesn’t mean a thing, all this land laid out behind us |
| I’d like to take off into these woods and get good and lost for a while |
| I’m disgusted with petty concerns |
| Parking tickets, breakfast specials |
| Does someone just have to carry this weight? |
| Abstract topography |
| Methane covenant |
| Linear gospel |
| Asheville sales lady |
| Stygian emissary |
| Torturous lice |
| Mad Elizabeth |
| Chemotherapy bullshit |
| I know a place we can go where you’ll fall in love so hard that |
| You’ll wish you were dead |
| The light within me shines like a diamond mine |
| Like an unarmed walrus |
| Like a dead man face down on a highway |
| Like a snake eating its own tail |
| A steam turbine, frog pond |
| Too-full closets burst open in disarray |
| Soap bubbles in the sun |
| Hospital death bed, red convertible, shopping list, blowjob |
| Deaths head, devils dancing, bleached white buildings, memory movements |
| The movie unpeeling, unreeling, about to begin |
| I know a place we can go where you’ll fall in love so hard that |
| You’ll wish you were dead |
| I see yr hallway, you are a dark hallway |
| I’ve hear your stairs creak |
| I can fix my mind on your 'yes' and your 'no' |
| I’ll film your face today in the sparkling canals |
| All red yellow blue green brilliance and silvered Dutch reflections |
| Racing thoughts — racing thoughts, all too real |
| Your moving so fast now, I can’t hold your image |
| This image I have of your face by the window |
| Me standing beside you, arm on your shoulder |
| A catalogue of images, flashing glimpses, then gone again |
| I am tethered to this post you’ve sunk in me |
| And every clear afternoon now I’ll think of you: up in the air |
| Twisting your heel, your knees up around me, my face in your hair |
| You scream so well, your smile so loud still rings in my ears |
| I know a place we can go where you’ll fall in love so hard that |
| You’ll wish you were dead |
| Inefficient distant tide of longing |
| Cleaning my teeth |
| Stay the course |
| Hold the wheel |
| Steer on to freedom |
| Open ALL the boxes |
| OPEN ALL the boxes |
| OPEN ALL THE BOXES |
| Times Square, midday, newspaper building, news headlines going around |
| We watch as they go (and hope for some good ones!) |
| Those tree-shadows in the park here, all whispering, shaking leaves |
| Around 6pm |
| Shadows across the cobblestones |
| Girl in front of bathroom mirror |
| She slow and careful paints her face green, mask-like |
| Like Matisse, «Portrait with Green Stripe» |
| Long shot through apartment window |
| A monologue on top but no girl in shot |
| The light within me shines like a diamond mine |
| Like an unarmed walrus, like a dead man face down on a highway |
| Like a snake eating it’s own tail |
| A steam turbine, frog pond |
| Too-full closet burst open in disarray, soap bubbles in the sun |
| Hospital death bed, red convertible, shopping list, blowjob |
| Deaths head, devils dancing, bleached white buildings, memory movements |
| The movie unpeeling, unreeling, about to begin |
| That was great by me |
| Yeah? |
| Mine were alright. |
| Wasn’t my best one but who cares? |
| That’s the spirit |