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letra de vanillaquake - marsy mars

verse 1
so i’ve shopped an hour, now i’m reading
schopenhaur on the back of the bus
mars and venus an eye apiece, reading noting
no other rider’s like us
then onto some bright-eyed dude across from me
some guy plies his misanthropy
palming him as if he’s got
arming him the very right of god
i stood to intervene, my english got real, real bad
this man and i closer than the states and iran
the barrel of his weapon had a tan
he squeezed off, sevеn seats afghan’d
the lesson? talеnt hits a target no one else can hit
but either g*nius or madness can hit a target
no one else could see, in this instance
a boy, saturn on his shirt, reading a personalised
story book with his mum, front of top deck, aged three
we were but two boats passing in the stream
both heading to the heart of darkness
when by this i realised that meanness and evil
of these unspeakably bleaker kinds lurked beyond the confines
of family mine, that in time would catalyse the realisation
that love and better things, too, were out there to find
but to find myself among them i had to get lost
and spent some time accordingly causelost and pausecrossed
chorus
when babe don’t make it back
take a sad song and make it last forever

we cannot talk of better days

verse 2
so with this tragedy did the world alight at my doorstep
i was fought over by guerrillas in the midst of a scalding past, and the administration of that past’s princess
from then on, everyday was just about independence day
tears working tired double duty as both side’s inauguratory fireworks
everyday is just about independence day in my head
so tired, so tired, so tired
so tired trying to maintain this independence of mind
sometimes trauma is beauty’s ass
the only means for it to come to pass
pain, the great teacher and speaker; giver of connection to people
beyond the usual frustration and disdain
while it’s true now i read the papers with more feeling for good news
now i see angles, colours bolder, perspective hung
in dread gold and green he makes my field a pitch
and while i look at myself, seeing only either pr-ck or b-tch
i look at him and see every evil vice, and a master of them all
master of all of us who beheld that night
crazed with thirst at the bottom of the little one’s tree
while he sits up in the boughs bespangled with leaves like stars
i’ve got the shame and ego full of seafoam
my bed feathered and quilted with survivor’s guilt
but i was fed that much gore that could not be understood
and the manna borne on tree for survivors to find makes the taste good
verse 3
my youth will never be the greatest chapter of my life
it couldn’t be
why nana would say such a thing
in the aftermath of such event i cannot explain
‘youth is the best time of your life’
intoned like the dogs dad hates
‘nana, cut me a slice, and next time
dispense me sentence with keylime on a plate’
and a final cup of tea, whose leaves i’ll need
and the china my chariot to ride restfully
through the coming test; i will go to visit
the murderer at his prison, and sure to find
a vision of the little lad sitting next to him
when first i saw him, when the news adored him
he struck me as one whom hunger does not move
just an evil old peter pan
then i read in those papers he’d been abused as a child
now, i’d like to shoot the breeze, impale it, chew it with the man
ask him “you and me, we were twisted by childhood cruelty
is this how you compensate for it? and is there another way
to evade the lien, rewild the denuded soul?”
i never found, summoned or contrived the nerve to ask him that
i just asked him if he’d spoken to the young man’s father who
unlike his mother, had not been fastened catatonic by his passing
the closest i came to pressing my inquiry through was
when i sputtered the question “what’s the difference between us two?”
he, seeing no incongruity in the query, muttered
”it’s simple; those vices of which we are made
along with virtue desires, you choose the latter of the two
i take the first and follow through”
now on the other side of truth’s parting glass
i put the same idea to you
i hope his last thought was the first time
his father showed him ice, or something else nice

- marsy mars

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