Kalamazoom!

We're all lost and seldom found:
fists clenched, fingers raised,
counting columns in the maze.
Twisting data documents
harnessed power in the wind.

Once the sun's retired,
honest, rushing chaos,
then our moon resides
for eight minutes of our life.

Our parents' mistakes are our own:
repeated history, a cycle
relentlessly absolute.
It's an object in the distance,
a constant shadow on the horizon

Once the sun's retired,
feathers fall between us,
then our streets reside
for four more minutes of our life.

Then we'll start it all over again.

Once the sun's retired,
fire burns beneath us,
then our love resides
for the last moment of our life.

Then we'll start it all over again.

I'm through with the sky,
put my feet back on the ground.
Teach me something tangible:
the touch, the scent, the sound
of the Oklahoma wind
bringing north a nightmare scream
of the truth, the time, the beat,
twisting chaos, radar beams.

Let Mary Lou out of her shell.
Forget about the next week,
focus on today's hell
'cause Dakota isn't OKC,
and your wife is still alive somewhere

And I wish I was what I could be
if I took every step
and didn't skip any of my breaths.
I dig my nails into my assigned seat,
tape my mouth,
and staple my feet.

And I whisper to myself,
"This is what you really want;
this is where you always wanted to be."
And no matter what I think
or the doubts that come to me,
I always make it
to the end of the day,
like the sun always rises,
no matter what the forecasts say.

(instrumental)

Is the color blue the ocean or the sky?
Is it the feathers of a bunting or the diamond in your eye?
Shade of this guitar, a box of Frosted Flakes?
My, my, what a difference perspective makes.

Is the color red a threat or a love,
an arrow through a heart or an arrow through a dove?
Is it a can of Pringles or a fancy fire truck?
You want a solid answer? Well, you are out of luck.

We can sit and constantly
debate these lives we can’t relate,
but for all our sakes, let’s remember the stakes,
the chips that could fall if we someday drop the ball.
When we’re lost in all this talk,
it shatters the ground on which we walk,
and we’re all one country then.

Is the color green full of greed or full of cash?
Maybe a stomach bug that soon will come to pass.
Leaves on the trees, a freshly mowed lawn;
I could give an answer, you’d forget before you’re gone.

Is the color yellow a caution or a coward,
the sun that gives us life or a country overpowered?
Daisy in the spring, her favorite car,
a simple song or question can’t tell you who you are

We can sit and constantly
debate these lives we can’t relate,
but for all our sakes, let’s remember the stakes,
the chips that could fall if we someday drop the ball.
When we’re lost in all this talk,
it shatters the ground on which we walk,
and we’re all one species then.

Is the color black the fear that haunts the night?
Is the color white a glimpse of heaven’s light?
No matter what you think, be careful what you say,
‘cause with a couple of shades, black or white can turn to grey.

We can sit and constantly
debate these lives we can’t relate,
but for all our sakes, let’s remember the stakes,
the chips that could fall if we someday drop the ball.
When we’re lost in all this talk,
it shatters the ground on which we walk,
and we’re all one planet then.

I never meant to let you down
when I closed and locked that door
and you slept alone.

Did you ever plan to relieve me
of the debts that I owe
from this pain I’ve sown?
It’s a skill I’ve honed.

Stack our months in boxes,
sweep the dirt from our feet.
Will we ever see the sunshine
and feel its patient heat?

Kill these dreams in transit,
pass away in shades of blue.
The sky still bleeds the ocean,
where does this road take you?

And I never meant to punish you
for the faults the lie inside,
and they won’t let go.

And I surely plan to refund you
for the debts that I owe
as I slowly grow
And you still don’t know.

Stack our months in boxes,
sweep the dirt from our feet
Will we ever see the sunshine
and feel its patient heat?

Kill these dreams in transit,
pass away in shades of blue
The sky still bleeds the ocean,
where does this road take you?

And I never meant to let you down,
dragging kisses on the floor.
You deserve much more
than this callous war.

Let’s go, let’s go;
don’t look back.
(Let’s move it forward.)
(Keep moving forward.)
(Do this together.)
Let’s don’t look back.

Stack our months in boxes,
sweep the dirt from our feet
Will we ever see the sunshine
and feel its patient heat?

Kill these dreams in transit,
clear the ashes, clear the dust.
The sky still bleeds the ocean,
where does this road take us?

Two kids walk out of church holding hands.
You shake your head and grin;
their naivety is amusing.
Yet at 23, you’re as oblivious as they are.
Maybe the media is getting to you;
maybe they have gotten to you already.

So we hear your government job is working out:
offers stability, security, support.
Yeah, you even get to see the sun
from time to time during lunch.
Each night you pray that
tomorrow, it will be clear.
Yeah, you hope there’s not a cloud in the sky.

Dreams are no longer why you sleep;
the reason is much more defined:
have enough energy to work your next day
‘cause you’re getting older now
and realizing the goals you had were foolish.
You’re above that now.

Sometimes when you’re walking into the building,
your shadow eclipses that of the flag.
It proves that you’re still a person
and that the country can’t hold you down.

Or maybe it can;
the vision is all relative

Wake up every morning
just to sleep at night.
One door opens, never closes,
keeps these streets alight.
Every question, every heartbeat
we keep thinking through;
every answer, every heartbreak,
there’s still work to do.

Then we’re moved and removed.

Wake up in the morning
just to sleep tonight.
Legs on fire, arms are tired,
back is stiff and tight.
Television paints a picture
solely red and blue.
Broken bottles, corner preachers
scream, “There’s work to do!”

Now they’re moved and removed.
Will any of this last?

Waking up at twilight
just to greet the night.
Airline motors, braking rotors
hum this symphony.
Global warming, frank denial
keep me company.
Propaganda breaking through,
so much work to do.

Now I’m moved and removed.
Will any of this last?
Will any of us last?
Will any of this last?

These dreams aren’t what we made:
biting lips, crimson cheekbones,
smiles once so real.

Let’s go back the way we came:
lakeside sunsets, closing time.
Kill a bird to make her sing.

And if I could trade my soul
for the heart within your chest,
I would.

These dreams aren’t what we made:
Scathing insults, vessels burst,
these wrinkles sinking in.

Let’s go back the way we came:
freedom poses, breathing in.
From ashes, we burn again.

And if I could trade my soul
for the light within your eyes,
I would.

And I’ll tell you,
never go home again.
It never is what you left.

This world keeps turning;
you’re stuck in orbit.

You taught your dog to lie, cheat, and steal,
then beat him when he brought home a bone.
So he’ll sit in his corner, wagging his tail,
and he’ll wait for the day you decide it’s time to walk.

But the only collar you own
is the cross around your neck.
You’ve outgrown it by now;
it chokes you every day,
so who’s the one calling the shots?

Spontaneous decision that it wasn’t worth risking,
yet who’s to say this isn’t what you’re missing now?

Consciously, you’re striking a deal,
but you ain’t the only one in town.
So he’ll sit in his corner, order another round,
and he’ll wait for the day you decide it’s time to talk

But the only voice you own
is the guilt inside your head.
Yeah, you know it by now;
it drowns you when you’re sober,
so who’s the one buying the shots?

Spontaneous decision that it wasn’t worth risking,
now who’s to say this isn’t what you’re missing now?

String me up, a punching bag of meal,
a piñata for your 22nd birthday.
But your blindfold’s transparent;
it’s your own one-way mirror,
so I’ll wait for the day
you swing and you miss.

'Cause I think you’re worth fighting for,
even if we’re not.
Yeah, I think you’re worth fighting for,
even if I’m not.
Yeah, I think you’re worth fighting for,
even if you’re really not.
Yeah, I think you’re worth fighting for,
even if we’re not or I’m not,
so who’s the one taking the shots?

Who’s the one taking the shots?
It wasn’t just me.
Look at yourself.

Who’s the one taking the shots?
Don’t put it all on me, baby.

And who’s the one making this
spontaneous decision that it wasn’t worth risking,
and who’s to say I’m not what you’re missing now?

Who’s the one taking the shots?

Do you remember where you’ve come from?
Tell me where you’ve been.
These oceans are wide,
these lands are vast,
and the calendar keeps on turning.

Shoot the breeze about your mother.
Yeah, it’s a shame to see her like that.
I wish she would stop smoking,
‘cause her air’s growing thin.

Pay phone, call her again.
Voice unfamiliar, uncertain:
a faucet in your former apartment,
shoes that no longer fit.

Reminiscing of a town
I never came to know.
Sunlit summer streets,
ice cream melting down my toes.

Friendly faces every corner,
not the ones you want to avoid.
It must have been easier then.
Would it be simpler now?

Can I say anything new?
For you, I’m the horizon,
where the sun rises,
greeting chalky cirrus.

Raindrops cleanse our bodies,
purify these sinning souls.
Our fear, all forgotten,
‘cause God knows
we’ve got our backs.

Tell me, man, where you going?
Will I see you again?
You know you’ll see me again.
I don’t know that I’ll see you again.

Maybe when we’re older,
they’ll these write songs about us,
driving every country road,
to leave this city in the dust.

Never did we sleep
except to fall in love again.
Never will we lose;
we’ll always win.

It’s not you; it’s me.
It’s not me; it’s you.
It’s not you; it’s me.

Full-grown adult with growing pains,
you treat me like a kid,
and that’s how I’ll remain.

Headstrong, argue just to speak.
These valleys are wide;
we are on either peak.

And I love you, but I think I’m crazy.
Did it start with me and end with you?
Or did it start with you and end with me?

We’re in the same place that we began,
fallin’ (flippin’) (trippin’) over again.
Is it the mean, is it the trend?
Is it the comfort, is it the end?

Your doubt is bleeding through.
Lack of trust, I’ll earn it.
Give me trust; return it.

We’ll fight; we’ll make up;
we’ll make love on the sheets,
with our socks still on our feet.

And I love you, but I’ve got no answer
to satisfy, to course-correct.
The headlights have burned out;
there’s no road in sight.

We’re in the same place that we began,
fallin’ (flippin’) (trippin’) over again.
Is it the mean, is it the trend?
Is it the comfort, is it the end?

Unveiled and unraveled,
is this what I am?
Unrivaled and unmatched,
see what I can be.
Exit stage right,
sweet dreams tonight.
Exit stage right,
peaceful without me.

We’re in the same place that we began,
fallin’ (flippin’) (trippin’) over again.
Is it the mean, is it the trend?
Is it the comfort, is it the end?

Is this the end?
(This is the end.)
This is the end of a volume.

Seasons always change;
this terminal never does:
same soulless singers,
trite, bitter verses,
overpriced trinkets,
vacant memories.

I’ve got drink coupons
for at least three flights
for the both of us.
That’s really not much,
I guess.
Sorry.

Reasons always change;
comprehension never comes.
Still-echoed footfalls
turning my stomach.
Sleeping together,
next to each other.

I’ve got one coupon
for at least one flight
for the one of me.
That’s all that I need,
I guess.
Later.

Maybe his kids will ask you
where their real mommy is,
and he’ll think of her
while he’s fucking you.

You’ll feel his love
that isn’t there.
It isn’t there.
It never was.
And what was
has moved on.

I’ve got one ticket
for just one flight
to Raleigh-Durham.
That’s all that I need,
I know.
Goodbye.