I'll be the grapes fermented,*Swoon*
Bottled and served with the table set in my finest suit
Like a perfect gentlemen
I'll be the fire escape that's bolted to the ancient brick
Where you will sit and contemplate your day
I'll be the waterwings that save you if you start drowning
In an open tab when your judgement's on the brink
I'll be the phonograph that plays your favorite
Albums back as your lying there drifting off to sleep...
I'll be the platform shoes and undo what heredity's done to you...
You won't have to strain to look into my eyes
I'll be your winter coat buttoned and zipped straight to the throat
With the collar up so you won't catch a cold
I want to take you far from the cynics int his town
And kiss you on the mouth
We'll cut out bodies free from the tethers of this scene,
Start a brand new colony
Where everything will change,
We'll give ourselves new names (identities erased)
The sun will hear the grounds
Under our bare feet in this brand new colony
Everything will change, oOo oOo...
Friday, December 02, 2005
Last night, on my drive home, I was listening to The Postal Service and "Brand New Colony" came on. Seeing as how 4:30pm is prime "I'm tired" time, the song really got to me and Ben Gibbard's lyrics were almost too much. Not too much that I didn't listen to the song over and over, my entire ride home, though. The following, is romance: