Transit Blues Lyrics Praise Poison

I heard the sound, the shout proclaimed. Now I’m here to praise poison. It’s a Monday let me be mundane. How’s there so much to speculate?. I can’t stand to carry the weight. Call me “The Sound and the Fury”. Consider me dead and buried. I’m like the city’s grime. No time for no crime. Praise poison. They fill your head with the devil and god. You’re so bored, but there’s a choice. You’re screaming without a voice. They fill your head with the devil and god. Call me “The Sound and the Fury”. Consider me dead and buried. I’m like the city’s grime. No time for no crime.

Over a lifetime I never loved her: my daughter. [There] seems to be a distorted shift. I’m lost now in the universal absence. And it is dizzying. Pitch black. Over a lifetime I never loved her: my daughter. Before there were ships sailing under a swollen moon. But enough now, every memory awakens an agony. Over a lifetime I never loved her: my daughter. I keep carrying the dead with me, so let us pity them [and] bury them all at once.

From Milwaukee to Memphis, Pittsburgh to Portland, Maine; I’m a little restless, feeling like a need a change. By way of Brooklyn and up to Boston, I’m disenchanted, considering every option. I’m thinking and thinking that being around here has me sinking. And while home is always best, my neighborhood in the midwest, I want to get lost in you, Tokyo. I’ve got a lot to say to you, Tokyo. It’s nostalgic and quiet, but louder than silence. I want to get lost in you, Tokyo. Here’s to folks in Michigan, back and forth to Chicago- along the lake, within the snow. I’m thinking and thinking that being around here has me sinking. And while home is always best, my neighborhood in the midwest, I want to get lost in you, Tokyo. I’ve got a lot to say to you, Tokyo. It’s nostalgic and quiet, but louder than silence. I want to get lost in you, Tokyo. I need more nights in Paris, more time in Stockholm. Some days I will be careless trying to feel known. I want to get lost in you, Tokyo. I’ve got a lot to say to you, Tokyo. It’s nostalgic and quiet, but louder than silence. I want to get lost in you, Tokyo.

It’s hard to name a tragedy when it keeps repeating. It’s hard to name a tragedy: constantly defeated. Why can’t a child walk down the street? Slow motion bullets. Another slaughter every week. Slow motion bullets. Mothers, fathers- don’t you know the numbers? Murder speeds out the chamber with fury and vengeance.

There’s no excuse for it, this senseless violence. That gun is a tragedy, on and on and on. Buy it background check free, on and on and on. Why can’t a child walk down the street? On and on. Another slaughter every week. Slow motion bullets. For the love of God, no more lock and load.
5. Flyover States

Across land, across sea- we can’t count the miles. The days, the weeks, the months, the years- we can’t count the miles. Do you know what it’s like? How is it when you fall asleep? Have you ever been in love? Could you explain to me since I keep trying to pretend, but it’s better to keep quiet. Still it goes without saying that I can’t help it. Across land, across sea- we can’t count the miles. The days, the weeks, the months, the years- we can’t count the miles now. If you wanted to trade places, exist in different spaces, one would have to erase this.

She left through the door so long ago. If she ever comes back I will never know. Driving south down highways of Ohio. I wanted to stay her gentleman. Her broken soldier. There are vultures that you can’t see. She left through the door so long ago. If she ever comes back I will never know. Driving south down highways of Ohio. I’ve spent decades waiting downtown and most of my friends are gone now. They drowned at the bottom of the bottle. There are vultures that you can’t see and I’m wondering when they’ll feast.

Every light is red tonight. Every day: a useless fight. Burdened by obligation, this life will be named “The Condition”. Bound beneath the reign of the viper. And with that please cross me out. Let me out of this everlasting ice age. Can’t look forward to anything while in this condition. Can’t say I’m waiting for a sign. I’m not waiting. The mystery is there is no mystery, overlooked reason to history. Founded by abandonment: an emptiness defined by silence. Let me be free. Float away like dots in the sun. Let me be free. Can’t look forward to anything while in this condition. Can’t say I’m waiting for a sign. I’m not waiting.

You hang your hand out the car window. We travel by the roadway’s hum. See the signs pass. Watch the fields go by. Every mailbox. Every streetlight. Right here with me: exist amongst the wheat. Amidst the leaves you watch listlessly. To the key of evergreen, I listen to the whisper. We’ll climb the mountains before we meet the sea. The rain will stop eventually. I’ll drive slow across black ice and you’ll be safe to rest your eyes. Soon enough the sun will go down; but it’s no bother, I’m not tired.

The idea is simple, to be underwater. Hold my breath, sink deeper. Say a prayer, sink deeper. You might consider this surrender, but I’m descending: constructing a most pleasant ending. I can still see the city. I can still recognize. To remain is to be separated. I can still see the city. To carry on is to be divided. I can still redefine. I’ve been spending time trying to keep outside of the light. I’ve been spending time at the bottom. You would not believe how true the salt feels. Oh God, the relief of oceanic sleep. I can still see the city. I can still recognize. To remain is to be separated. I can still see the city. To carry on is to be divided. I can still redefine. The cliché says that it’s sink or swim, but that’s another lie we’ve been drowning in.

By the time she heard the news, the funeral had taken place; but still the sadness transcended across a dozen states. She wished the trees weren’t so still. “Oh Anna, my dear!” she could nearly hear him. His words, sincere, the last time they’d spoken. Those moments in Indiana felt like yesterday and that crash in Atlanta would always resonate. She wished the trees weren’t so still, as if the pines could weep with her. “Oh Anna, my dear!” she could nearly hear him. His words, sincere, the last time they’d spoken. In the forests of Oregon her breath grew shallow. The air was fractured in the morning storm and Anna’s world felt hollow. She wished the trees weren’t so still, as if the pines could weep with her. Move along now, you’re next. This line won’t wait for us. Like Ian, soon Anna, we will all fail the test. Move along now, you’re next. This line won’t wait for us. “Oh Anna, my dear!” she could nearly hear him. His words, sincere, keep us all heartbroken.

Every morning, wake to the itch. The alarm clock ticks. Make some coffee, check the weather, do my best to keep it together. You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true. Soon it will begin. I can’t expect the world to comprehend the fits that I myself can’t defend. Every afternoon, avoid traffic, but feel frantic. My composure: a lost love letter. Do my best to keep it together. You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true. I can hear the questions now since journalism died somehow. The shout proclaimed: the poison praised. They make my words an unmarked grave. You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true. Every evening I’ll have a drink, start to feel better, do my best to keep it together.