Like a shadow on a shadow, a phantom in a filmstrip, Faint glimmer
Of the past trapped in mother's old slides. Sits still in the
Apartment while sifting through some picturesOf the child that he
Once was and the sense of hope they framed. "It's a shame,"
And I fear that fate while the humming from the street keeps me awake,
He says, "I let life get twisted. Get worn out, torn up, and
Late with the rent. And now nothing makes sense except the bench and
That piano. A feeling nearingOrder when I'm pressing down the
Chords."And he plays,
And it swells and breaks, but what'll it take to make my life sound like
That. And brings a fever, a dream of sweat and ecstasy. A
Kiss on every hammer hit that follows asThe keys fall down and bring
An order first, then chaos, then a calm, that paints every shift
InMurals on the wall. And it presses to your neck, it clutches to
Your hips, softly sings to you of fireworks and God and art and sex and
It's strange—That it feels so right when nothing else does.
But all the while he's playing there's a hummingComing up and
Through the window from outside. And even he has to admit a certain
Melody in it, But then why can't he harmonize? It's like the
City's got it's own song but he can't play along. He sees the notes
As they fly by but always plays them wrong. And in the bathroom it
Gets blurry gets warm and distorted; Like light pushed the orange of
The pillbox he poured in his palm. It falls to the floor, he smiles
As it hits, "Sounds a little like an instrument."
Like a voice in the choir, that hum and that drumbeat of life as an
Art-form andFire through the streets that keep moving us in silence
To phantom baton sweeps, Keep tapping to the tempo of our feet.
And all the ones who seem to fit the best into the chorus
Never notice there's a songAnd the ones who seem to hear it end up
Tortured by the chords when they fail to findA way to sing along.
And when you sing the wrong thing it all starts collapsing.
Starts to ring out and feedback, starts lapsing and crashing, on
Notes that don't clash but thatNever quite feel like they match.
And I never quite feel like mine match. There's
A melody in everything, I'm trying to find a harmony
ButNothing seems to work, nothing seems to fit.
There's a melody in everything, I'm trying to find a
Harmony butNothing seems to work, nothing seems to fit.
There's a melody in everything, I'm trying to find a
Harmony but Nothing seems to work, Nothing fits.