Blackbox Lyrics

LOVER, LOWER ME DOWN!

I will drag your bones across the hill
over scorching sheets to make you real
I will light the lanterns in the brome
peel the hair locks from your comb
I will drown the old man and the sea
under skeleton rags from Bimini
transfixed by marlins in your Daiquiri
carry the weight of the world in your hand, what a feeling!
in dreams of lavender
far beyond the Maple tree
I was taking the easy way out, I was proud
now I’m kneeling before the glorious refrigerator poets of the world

lover, lower me down!

NIGHT HITCHER

hey! come over to the passenger side I promise this: eternal bliss
a kiss will ease your pain

descend into the shattering tide in the abyss ephemeris
a kiss will ease your pain

steady! I think you’re ready, Betty
see the moon behind the black confetti
when the mourning chimney swallow croons under fluorescent skies

steady! I think you’re ready, Betty
say hello to the man with the black machete
when the diamond hits the silver spoon open up your eyes
steady! I think you’re ready, Betty
see the moon behind the black confetti
silver linings in the hollow noon under fluorescent skies
when the diamond hits the silver spoon open up your eyes

lover! lower me down!

BEFORE THE HELMETS

someone told me long ago
you must believe in magic
I stared into a tapestry of dinosaurs and cogwheels salamander silhouettes
paper planes and rocketships
you must believe in magic
your creatures made of plastic is the first thing I recall and once in a dream I stole my father’s eyes
and I climbed out of the skylight

I followed the moon over the rooftops
to the silent salamander skies
danced in the mist across the asylum
where the sirens echoed in the snow
so many years ago
you must, you must believe in magic

ISABEL: A REPORT TO AN ACADEMY

realising happiness and joy is just a construct of a self deception
should it keep you from lying?
Plato once said: “Carve me a head! Necessity is the mother of invention.”
did it keep him from dying?
I think you got a problem, you got a problem: I think you’re thinking too much
dont trust a music teacher who is quoting Nietzsche to bear the silence of the scotch
I think you got a problem, you got a problem: Darwin didn’t love you very much
but he gave you evolution and the institution that is your artificial crutch

go back to sleep, this is the age of the deep slumber
don’t be afraid of the blue skies
enter the merry-go-under
and see your life through the eyes of Isabel

are you the ghost of Vermeer with a table leg staring into the light from above?
are you a burning giraffe on the borderline making a mantelpiece for a dove?
are you a basket of bread for the afterlife on a cabinet, or a bed stand?
hail the hallucinogenic toreador of kitsch!
Isabel, show me life, I’ll follow the lights into the hole

go back to sleep, this is the age of the deep slumber
don`t be afraid of the blue skies
enter the merry-go-under
through the cracks in the glacial mass where the seagulls collide
look away, Isabel!

wonderful, wonderful nib pointing up
like the manicured finger of Magritte
could I write me out of solipsism with some chalk on a floorboard?
the yellow lemon stairs to a dead end, inexplicable lady friend
name the unnamable object with a word – a word, little parakeet!

call her, call her, tell her that you love her madly
tell her that you need her badly
tell her that you want to be forever
call her, call her, call her from your ivory tower
high above the virgin’s bower
immolate your naked limbs and dance alone

I think it’s time you wake up!
all the faculty members are here
come and see the final lecture
we`ll examine the Rorschach redemption of life
juvenile dementia
when the temporal perception is lost
I will guide you through the pictures
as we ride through the mouth of Hieronymus Bosch

go back to sleep, this is the age of the deep slumber
don’t be afraid of the blue skies
enter the merry-go-under
through the cracks in the glacial mass where the seagulls collide
look away, Isabel!

lined up by the washing machines,
Bleacher Street in wuthering streams
Madeleine crumble submarines will preserve all the finest of fabric for the fall
lie supine out in a sprawl, carve your name into a snowball
as you drift down the moon river

quiet like a fly on a windshield in the schoolyard
another thesis on Heidegger gave you a voice
the structural transformation of the public sphere you dismembered
to some extent, you were careless then, like Salvador
you lingered in the praise of the classroom, you were dreaming
carrying the body of Bertrand Russel through the streets
then a lightning came out of nowhere, you were sober
you saw the students had evaporated from the seats

Isabel, show me life, I’ll follow the lights into the hole

MADELEINE CRUMBLES

I remember the wine
and your tomes of wonder
but no nursery rhyme
in the book of hunger
and as you clung to a twine
in your final slumber
I said: this leads to a kite
up in the wild blue yonder

follow the moon, Wind in the Willows
in the hollow coriander clouds
dance in the mist across the asylum
where the sirens echoed in the snow
beyond the afterglow
you must, you must believe in magic

and we danced in the hall of Madeleine crumbles
through Joyce’s The Dead and The Lass of Aughrim
a sea spell in the the dark for the late Rosetti
you were alive as a lark with a thorn of black confetti in your eye

follow the moon
melancholia

BASEBALL

carry the weight of the world in your hand,
what a feeling
defying gravity with murmurs of the make-belief
the showroom glissades in the penny arcade I was kneeling
you played the base, I played the ball
I was the hunchback on your side
you married the mildew and gossamer under the skylight
you painted Japanese autumn fire maple trees and kites
riparian meadows consumed by the death of a canvas
now all the memories are coming back to life again

back from the dead, the crowd is waiting in anticipation
circus, bread and Bucky Harris on the television
ducks on the pond, and Mrs. Truman with a black umbrella
and with the crack of a bat comes the main attraction: Ayn Rand, Peter Pan and the ghost of Tully Sparks!
deadpan, hidden hand – the pose of Karl Marx
brass band plays “A Star Strangled Banner” in reverse
batter up! it’s baseball!

paralyzed with joy, marching up the manor marble steps
you can see the gleaming pantaloons
on the frosted wedding cake anchored to your mind
“the party’s over, everyone`s leaving!”
see the jives and fisticuffs
men and girls who came and went like moths
harvesting your dreams of jitterbug flappers
as the penguin in the pit pushes you around

there’s a choir in your mind that can tell you anything
but you can’t always hear the voice that is worth remembering
time is running out!

there must be some kind of way out of here
I traced the intersections everywhere
and in a time exposure I was shown a hidden message in the cobblestone

and then I woke up in a fevered hypertension
to a silent movie on imperial expansion
I put my head inside a padded leather glove just like a baseball
they picked a bullet from his mutilated shoulder
the son of Sisyphus, the pusher of the boulder,
stitched him together with a needle and a twine
just like a baseball
I got his baseball!

you breathe the fragrance of your purple cigarettes
stumbling through the ballroom of the blind
a tapestry of rocketships under salamander skies
silhouettes of dinosaurs and cogwheels

carry the weight of the world in your hand, what a feeling!
now all the memories are coming back to life again
the crepuscular rays and the penny arcades and the kneeling
you were a domino collapsing like a highrise to the ground

oh, what a night!
can you feel the music?
Puerto Rican boys are dancing in the hall
hey Chardonnay, lilac of the seasick!
I’m gonna take you from the brim to the dregs
month of May, picnic with my best friends
a splendid tonic for my violent delirium
there’s Hemingway!
my resident physician
batter up!
I’m gonna take you to the moon!
it’s baseball!

STRAWBERRY SUICIDE

hey, is it me you’re looking for?
I see you’re getting old
we were younger then but something came along
I was occupied by someone that you know
that you know I know

you can’t remember anything at all
but still the song remains the same
now we are salt in a sugar bowl
and every motion wears a name
in the ever-changing chorus I will play out of tune
in a chain of separate lives
strawberry suicide

hey, was it me or was it you?
the story is getting old
you were younger then but something made you cold
you were occupied by someone that I know
that I know you know

you don’t remember anything at all, do you?
the song remains the same
we’re still salt in a sugar bowl
and every motion wears a name
in the ever-changing chorus
I still play out of tune
in a chain of separate lives
I got something to tell you
but I haven’t found the words
strawberry suicide

BLACKBOX

blackbox, blackbox, calorie chart
owls talons clenching my heart
blackbox, blackbox, hit the bell jar!
can you hear me?
blackbox, blackbox, Tesla coil kid
crying in a pigeonhole that’s what you did
in the blackbox, blackbox, tap on the lid
can you hear me?

the raven lock, the brazen lid
the rattling chains and the secrets we hid
in the blackbox
the solid rope, the bridal noose
the matter of self and the substance abuse
in the blackbox
my feather star, you swam too far
the tidal bore of belvedere
you hiss, you’re breathing
you run, you’re swimming
you kissed the razor
in the blackbox

blackbox, blackbox, calorie chart
owls talons clenching my heart
blackbox, blackbox, hit the bell jar
can you hear me?

blackbox, blackbox, Tesla coil kid
crying in a pigeonhole, that’s what you did
in the blackbox, blackbox
tap on the lid
can you hear me?

you’re in the blackbox, fish out of water
welcome to dystopia, plain is the color
blackbox, blackbox, do the Fritz Lang
dance around the pyre with the rest of the gang
you hiss, you’re breathing
you run, you’re swimming
you crave, you crumble
you burst, you bubble
you took the beating
jump rope, hopscotch
bloody knuckles, huckle buckle beanstalk
miss Mary Mack never came home