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letra de sunrise: where's ace? - cannonball statman

i took a slow trip from the heart of the earth to a place that doesn’t exist;
i moved through a million seasons and songs, burning oceans
and cold streets decorated with puddles of broken glass
and the disintegrating men who stand on street corners, shouting

“graveyard, graveyard, this here’s the graveyard!
get your fresh graveyards here, only $15.99, that’s right!
everybody needs a graveyard, ’cause everybody dies!
tomorrow morning, it could be you.”

i always wanted to be on the run, or on the road
depending on how the story is hеard
i wanted to be completеly alone, except for the people i cared about
who i might’ve seen passing through, in a small cafe, a pizza shop

or the side of the road, next to the bus station;
it’s a cold christmas eve, here on the westernmost edge of manhattan
the sun buried under the hudson river till morning
which feels like forever

but it’s warm over here, in the skylight diner;
we eat corned beef hash, drink black coffee
and stare into each others’ eyes

the peculiar electrical charge that often lies dormant in your heart
invites me to know its true nature
before scurrying from my sight in shock
as a disintegrating man bursts through the door, screaming
“love! love! love! love! what is it really?
every last one of yous is a product of love
that’s amore, the moon hit your eye but it felt like a kiss
the sperm hit the egg, while the other guy missed;
that’s what it’s all about

did you know millions of americans die every year
due to chronic love deficiency?
and you, my dear listener, have got to be
one of the loneliest motherf-ckers on the planet
tuning in at this hour, on christmas eve of all nights

so call right now, you filthy degenerate
or tomorrow morning, it could be you.”

i’m so happy you found me;
i just got laid off at the black paint factory
and omg
do you see what i see?
all my degenerate friends and i want to do is be
in the light of love, infinitely

and the smiling old men without room service
to bring them to their knees
they can no longer tie their own nooses;
what a tragedy this all is
but this is not my song;
this is not my world
and we all scream “na na na na. hey!
i’ve got no time for this sh-t when it hits the fan
this is not my song;
this is not my world.”

you’re dreaming;
looking into windows from the train, and wondering
because everyone surrounds you
like parasites, or mutual friends
depending on how the story is heard

and ace spends his last night on earth
with the people he cares about
in small cafes, in pizza shops, in diners
yes, even in diners

ace wished the night would never end
just sitting there, talking
he knew that land was just a prison;
a prison with no guard, but gravity
through a twist of fate, he found a way out;
they found him there

…but we all scream “na na na na. hey!
we’ve got no time for this sh-t when it hits the fan
this is not our song;
this is not our world.”
in line at the grocery store
in the middle of a forever war;
i don’t wanna be at war no more

i don’t wanna be at war no more
i don’t wanna be at war no more;
i don’t wanna be at war no more

i want to die by the ocean, at dawn;
to be stabbed and mutilated by a trio of smiling men
i don’t want the ocean to swallow my remains
like some clever hollywood bullsh-t;
i want to vanish into the air
and the men to follow to who-knows-where
almost as if we were never there
in that old harbor city by the ocean, at dawn

i don’t wanna die on the street in manhattan;
not london, vienna, trnava, or toulouse
i don’t wanna die in assisted living
i don’t wanna die in a hospital bed in cologne
i don’t wanna die in an aeroplane or a ship
i don’t wanna die at night on the highway, alone
i don’t wanna die with dignity or with grace
i want to die by the ocean, at dawn

i love the sound of the ocean at dawn
i love the taste of honey on a man’s thumb
the smell of chocolate factories from the street
and all the secret melodies in a song
i love to cry watching soap operas on repeat
i love the promise of -rs-nic and a gun
i love the great sidewalk mosaics of used bubble gum
and i want to die by the ocean, at dawn

- cannonball statman

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