Twilight Cinema Lyrics

Skeleton Sangria

Skeleton sangria, mindless and mellow
Little dove, little dove, on the pastures he wanes
In careless insomnia he waits by the fire
In the mist, in the mist, in the woods with no trails
Skeleton sangria, mindless and mellow
Little dove, little dove, in the meadows he drowns
In careless insomnia he waits by the fire
In the mist, in the mist, with his head to the ground

Impermanence

I see you only try to kill the pain
Lying on the carpet like a child, impermanence in your vein
You know it’s never going to be the same
Summers running through the Everglades, rounding up the daisy chains
All that you gave was all that you got

Raindrops dripping from a parasol, making puddles to collect the blue skies
made you tremble, made you small in the impermanence of the fall

You build a house, you change your name
I know you only try to love somebody through your cold restraints
The stations ever passing by your train
In this moment that we cannot explain, in difference we are the same
All that we give is all that we got

Sidewalks are moving slowly like an escalator in the brickwork of a tailor
The skyline is a hummingbird trading poems for a crossword
It takes you even deeper, you fall into a stupor of imagination
Tell me where you want to go, tell me where you want to go
All that we give is all that we got

All your life you’ve been looking for someone to love,
someone to caress you, now you are lost
You felt something wasn’t right, you had your reasons
All of the quotes from Keats, TS Eliot, Byron and Pope,
they tore something that was yours
Infantile playing in between the changing seasons

Black River

Yesterday she was pulled up from the river
Wearing a silver bracelet and a bucket of stones around her pretty neck
Holding an empty canvas to a mirror
I picture myself alongside of the girl on the bridge the morning of the fall
When she was staring into a hollow abyss,
reminisced slipping into the cold black river

Silent capercaillies by the rivulet
hovering, the highland lass
Waning in the holler by the silhouettes
Everyone you know shall pass
never to feel comfort in the arms of a stranger
Howling from the heathers in the gloaming mire,
through clammy and slender paths
The billow turned the birches to redundant snags
Unavowed we stood like icicles in the black river

Stop, my little child!
You won’t get further than this, I see you smile
Under the frothing abyss we reconcile
We’re pestilential and vile, the both of us
Let’s get together and dance into the void until it stares into our soul

So hush, my little child!
Come join the purgatory trip through your denial
Among the carpenter bees and honey pies,
we’ll see the home that you left
You were a child
I was your daddy back then
So splendour tender when the morning slipped into your dream

Scarlet tangerines, taffy pullers, butter beans and baseball figurines,
forever and ever buried under the cold black river

The Wheelbarrow

This is your life, it isn’t much
Learning to live, learning to touch
Pulling the brakes, but still the wheels keep turning around
This is your life, and it is mundane
Follow the tracks in a maze through the barrens
Never to find your way home
Circling vultures and flickering lanterns
showed you the way to the square of your mind
Moving the hands that you claim as your own,
it’s inevitable, it’s inevitable like time

Poor Lizzy McKay, she wasn’t the same after the crash
According to rumors she had a relapse, or may I say, a nervous breakdown
Nothing was real except the old memories of summertime
Hobbling barefoot over the pebbles and bubble wrap
She was the queen among the powder’d bag-wigs and ruffy-tuffy heads

Poor Lizzy McKay, she wasn’t the same after the fall
with letters from Paris and cabinet card pictures from Montreal
having a ball, lost in the pages of the devouring summertime
Lizzy McKay created a garden of figurines and libertines among the statues of clay

She can do anything, she can love everyone,
doing the same routine over and over
Sparkling diamond ring, doing the highland fling
Pulling the same routine over and over
Dancing through repetition

Poor mr. Demille, he wasn’t the same after the war
Lost in delirium, he was Napoleons troubadour at Borodino
Always too feeble, always too quail for the kettledrum
Down at the floodgate he was a priest with a timber boom
He thought a spike broom was a gunstock of hay

He can do anything, he can fight anyone,
doing the same routine over and over
Cold as a diamond ring, covered in gabardine
Marching through time, he gets older and older
We can do anything, we can change everyone,
pulling the same routine over and over
Writing a symphony of dwelling disharmony,
pulling the plug is just out of the question
Dance me through repetition!

Spruces and foxgloves in plum colored cascades
Wheelbarrows of pinecones and cloudberry cream
It’s Monday, it’s Tuesday, and nothing is happening
Squirrels and ducks pushing marbles
The conifer forest is yours for the rest of the day
There’s no way of knowing, the river keeps flowing on and on and on

This is your life, it isn’t much
Learning to live, learning to touch
Pulling the brakes, but still the wheels keep turning around
This is your life, and it is mundane
Follow the tracks in a maze through the barrens
Never to find your way home
Circling vultures and flickering lanterns
showed you the way to the square of your mind
Moving the hands that you claim as your own,
it’s inevitable, it’s inevitable like time

She can do anything, he can change anyone,
doing the same routine over and over
Bold as a diamond ring, doing the highland fling,
Marching through time, they get older and older

Dancing, dancing, dancing

A Cabin in the Sky

Wake up, Annie get your gun!
Let’s go to the ballgame, bright lights on 42nd street
Comet over Broadway, the singing kids and smalltown girls
Kiki! The gang’s all here, three cheers for the girls and dames
Wonder bar of golddiggers! Golddiggers!
Whoopee! The gang’s all here, and there’s a cabin in the sky

A cabin in the sky!

Wake up! The gang’s all here, Kiki and golddiggers
Bright lights on 42nd street
Coming over Broadway – the singing kids and smalltown girls

Changing the lane by the Palisades Park
as the clapperboard snapped for the darkest scene you’ve ever made
A kowtowing king trying to call his old mother
from the Lighthouse Café by the spring bud convertible flames

I watched the movies over and over again
replayed the scenes I cannot understand
The misery behind the symmetry, forever haunted by the trumpets

A cabin in the sky!

Heart Machine

Listen to the heart of the factory pumping liquified waste of production
In a scrap yard of bones made of concrete
On the chimney top stands the last welder of languid futility,
watching a torpid marsupial quagmire
Ramshackle jackhammers thumping along to the rhythm of the assembly line

Listen to the heart of the factory pumping, captain Ahab is back for the nightshift
Waiting down by the docks for a shipment that may never arrive
Kiss the cobalt, smell the limestone and carbon monoxide
Now he is singing a song, it is: “Glory, glory, Hallelujah!
I’m so proud to be guarding this heart machine, it is Perfect!”

Like Phoebus on the crescent, dancing in a blizzard on the moon

Flags are hoisted, sailors are closing the breach of the shell
Ring the bell! I’m piercing the eye of the moon
From the roof I can see perfectly clear, travelling suits of silver,
mechanical telescopes, crowded barracks and scaffolds of gold
I’m piercing the eye of the moon

Snowflakes, stars and orbits, mushroom umbrellas and clouds
The mourning cloak of the belching smoke is fluttering over a house like a ghost
Through foundries and wobbling grass, rusty arbors and broken glass

Beaks of Benevola

Walking around in the corridor without a sound on the hardwood floor
The savages are asleep and the infirmary is quiet like a morgue
Humming a tune from The Devil’s Brigade in the pondering sulky silence
Perishable in debt he pays the rent for all the evenings to repent

I want to be good
I want to be righteous for the perished yet unfolded
Forever blind, never misunderstood
Find a place in the woods among the bluebirds on the riverbed with shackled beaks in silence
I want to be good

It’s the end of the line, blind babies in a ballroom fade away, it’s the house of detention
Out here we’re lost in the haze, a thousand days are shorter than an hour in the sun
Like a splinter to the spine, time is taming the untarnished
Trade your soul for the bliss of believing there are stars in the ceiling,
breeze in the curtains, grass on the floor, china on the table and a river in the sink
Creatures of the night watch sleeping on broken wings

I want to be good
I want to be righteous for the perished yet unfolded
Forever blind, never misunderstood
Find a place in the woods among the bluebirds on the riverbed with shackled beaks in silence
Silence

I want to be good

Twilight Cinema

Emily’s watching television every night and day
Waiting for someone to save her from herself
The modern twilight cinema
There are biscuits in the basket, laughers, uppers, downers
Epitaphs and pornographic literature
Munchkins in the ether knitting baby clothes in scarlet woods of cinnamon

Wake up, it’s a brand new day, there are eggs in the buffet
Wake up, little Emily, the dimple key is stuck inside your door
There’s something going on in room 11, there’s no answer on the other side
Hey janitor! Listen, the projector is in overdrive
We’ve got a twilight cinema

Count the bats in the trees, swirling bees in the breeze
It’s ‘Operation Bavarian Burlesque’
Candy colors of green from a vending machine
Amplifiers and tainted little melodies, memories
A cinema, she’s in the twilight cinema
A cinema, she’s in the twilight cinema

Since you’ve been gone I’ve been looking for a girlfriend
who looks just like Norma Shearer in The Barrets of Wimpole Street from 1934
Since you’ve been gone I’ve been looking for a girlfriend
who acts just like Mary Pickford in Poor Little Peppina,
as she is playing bocce with her Beppo

Am I crazy?

Is it me or is everybody crazy?

In this house we are one big happy family

Emily – talking to a radio, playing songs that no one wants to hear
Emily – standing on the patio, longing for the applause that disappeared
A cinema, she’s in the twilight cinema
A cinema, she’s in the twilight cinema
Full of melancholic friends, the temporary ones
The people sitting next to you will vanish in the haze without a sign

A cinema, you’re in the twilight cinema
A cinema, you’re in the twilight cinema

Is it happening again?

Ice cream for everybody, sweets for the boys and girls
Happy time is mandatory, put on your diamonds and pearls
Poppers for the perverted and masochistic ballet
Welcome! I’ve got your keycard, hope you enjoy the stay
Do-re-mi and sodomy, this house is filled with memories of…