Friday, September 23, 2016

Language

If language were liquid
It would be rushing in
Instead here we are
In a silence more eloquent
Than any word could ever be

These words are too solid
They don't move fast enough
To catch the blur in the brain
That flies by and is gone
Gone
Gone
Gone

I'd like to meet you
In a timeless, placeless place
Somewhere out of context
And beyond all consequences

Let's go back to the building
(Words are too solid)
On Little West Twelfth
It is not far away
(They don't move fast enough)
And the river is there
And the sun and the spaces
Are all laying low
(To catch the blur in the brain)
And we'll sit in the silence
(That flies by and is)
That comes rushing in and is
Gone (Gone)

I won't use words again
They don't mean what I meant
They don't say what I said
They're just the crust of the meaning
With realms underneath
Never touched
Never stirred
Never even moved through

If language were liquid
It would be rushing in
Instead here we are
In a silence more eloquent
Than any word could ever be

And is gone
Gone
Gone
And is gone

9 comments:

Trevor Armbuster said...

More damnable NIHILISM –– the doctrine of the anti-Christ.

-FJ said...

Is that what you heard in the sound track running through your head, Trevor?

Trevor Armbuster said...

It's right there in the terrible, self-absorbed despondency of the text. A dreary theme that has dominated most of twentieth-century and post-twentieth-century "art and letters."

-FJ said...

You don't get out much, Trevor, do you?

-FJ said...

Acheronta movebo.

Thersites said...

This song might as well accompany None the Richer's "There she goes".

(((Thought Criminal))) said...

Needs more cowbell

(((Thought Criminal))) said...

shut up

-FJ said...

There's more to music than words, no doubt!