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Cursive




Music World  →  Lyrics  →  C  →  Cursive  →  Albums  →  Such Blinding Stars For Starving Eyes

Cursive Album


Such Blinding Stars For Starving Eyes (09/09/1997)
09/09/1997
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Eight Light Minutes
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. . .


after the movies
in the parking lot
we stared so long
and you kissed me
with ripe young breath
so i kissed you
one night as forever

in the movies
well, they never had it so good
one moment
so infinite
on soft wet lips

and i miss you
are you glad i'm finally gone?
i'm so sorry to hear that
i'm so sorry
i'm so sorry

have i hurt you?
i have hurt myself
these sad songs won't change anything

love as fragile as a wineglass
it should have been forever
love as fragile as a wineglass
it couldn't last forever
i'm so sorry
it should have been forever

i remember how we kissed
one night as forever

. . .


Hold your breath, dear
This ship is going down
We're all downhill
Running with our timebombs
These shins are cracked and splintered
These lips are crusted shut
These squinting eyes just sting me
These veins are drying me up

All my limbs
They're just tools
We're all stilted vechiles
These joints rust
These pores leak
Time gets selfish
Time is SPEED

The sweetest dreams... have murdered me. They murdered me. They murdered me.

Like the fear of unskilled labor in the nuclear family
It's the nightmare of digression that engulfs a history

All my limbs
They're just tools
Duplicated, mass produced
Running down
Losing speed
Time escapes us
Timing's everything.
Everything.

Everything... This is the tic in the heart
Everything... This is the beating of the clock
Everything... This is an absent blood clot
Everything... These are the seconds that I've lost
Everything... This is the slow-rush hour
Everything's so rushed (This is the slow-rush... hour)
Everything... This is the slow rush.

. . .


Passed out in your yard
My clothes were soaking in the morning rain
My head's just a bruise, like walking in a coma
Like a battered drone
All my limbs are numb

I've been driving past your house
Been pounding at your door
I know I'm just a peon to you
But I deserve more
Than arrogance
Condolences
My hearts are on the sleeves of my shirts scattered over your lawn
And the morning dew... kissed them

Drunk on Bastille Day
Throwing pennies at the broken birds
Scribbling plans on napkins
A sketch of broken angel wings under your bed
My bandages

Stumbled over to your house
I'll sneak in the back door
I know I've been an asshole to you, but that was before
The argument, the accident
Well, I've heard it's just a matter of time before the hour is spent
And my hour is spent
I can't afford it this time
I can't afford this time
I can't afford this time
I can't afford it...

The hour has come for retribution
I'm storming the walls down
I'm storming the walls down
The hour has come for retribution
I'm storming the walls down
I'm storming the walls down
Before this night's done, the wounds will be gone
I'm storming the walls down
I'm storming the walls down

. . .


Less talk, more dancing
If we could push off the sick conversation one more night
I surely would
My shoes have gathered the dust of the vineyard
Have I soiled your gown?
There's soil on your gown, like sangria
Cleanses the heart
Our clogged hearts are choking on the grime
As the big band waltzes on
Your stranded eyes whisper...

"The dirt is out.
I can smell her on your velvet hands."
The dirt is out --
are we stuck in the motions again?

Oh, but was it sweet
In the vineyard
Sangria, won't you bless
The starving lips
Such virgin lips
Would choke on all this grime
I've found some dirt under my nails
I'll scratch and bite until...

The dirt is out
but sangria burns under my skin
The dirt is out --
I thought I'd never wash these hands again

Under my skin....

. . .


There's no use going to Des Moines
I heard it's just like here
I guess it's just like everywhere
As for us, I guess we're not immune
Look at our same plain face

Still I assume this subject identity
Shared with all the kids that qualify
And that's a pretty high percentage to embrace
But easier to clasify
'Cause all my friends are in the same target group
And all of them look like all of you

And they're restless in standstill
But they don't know where to go
They don't know...

I wish
I could dissappear
My unwhole self
Away from here
Away from here... NOW!

I don't want to let it sit around
Just make it go away
Let it cure itself, let it be a cure for us
And if I never leave this hole
Make sure you bury me here with all my dead friends
We'll make a toast to the ones who ran away

Just get me through...
Just get me through...
Just get me through....

. . .

Eight Light Minutes

[No lyrics]

. . .


Staring up at stars
From the back seat of a stationwagon
Carving the night
Trees keep marching by
Light poles blur into a stream
Blazing laser beams

All...
These...
Stars....

My thoughts are trivial pursuits
My heart's a bomb that's been defused
What now?

There's no more use for me
I'm wasting energy
Muscles are weaklings
Thoughts just defeat me
Numbness is effortless
I could get used to this

Driving through Vermont
Overwhelmed by the insignificance
My conscience was my crutch
For a heightened existence
This other wordliness

These...
Schoolboy...
Lies....

I've been deprived reality
Brought up by holy ghosts and saints
What now?

I'm the delinquent here
I'm the contagious one
This heart is hopeless
I feel the numbness
All Hail The Atheist
I could get used to this
I could get used to this
I could get used to this
I could get used to this

. . .


Sweating with confidence
They're soiling our egos
And we're locked at the hip
Don't cut the too short

You've cut yourself off
I thought we agreed
No limb should be left
So severed and bleeding
What are you missing?
What are you missing?

A truth so disabling
Might blind my starving eyes
But weren't we locked at the hip?
You've cut the cord so short
What are you missing?
What are you missing?

You've cut yourself off
I thought we agreed
But some doctrines of faith
Can be so misleading

So what are you missing?
What are you missing?

. . .


When we were burning
These stained walls would swell with passion
Our sweat warped the wooden floorboards
You'd kick out the nightlight
And let the moon bleed through the window
Draping over naked bodies

We're killing time
Trying to love
What we can't find
But who does?
A drier heat than we know blistered me badly
We've all been burning out

I'll have a Gibson
My throat is dry from screaming blindly
At the wishing stars that wrecked me
They kinged me naive
Now I keep the nightlight on and watch the sweat drip from the ceiling

These summer nights
The streetlights burst flames
They screech too bright
They scream blind
A drier heat than we know blistered me badly
We've all been burning out

A drier heat than we know blistered me badly
We've all been burning... out

Warp the wooden floor
Kick out the light, kick off the bedsheets, and let the moon bleed in
Warp the wooden floor
Kick out the light, kick off the bedsheets, and let the moon bleed in

. . .


Our mistakes are scrawled upon the chalkboard
They're scribed across stained glass
They're posted on the billboards
A lackluster charade
And are we so naive to concede these forefathers?
Apparently we are

Well, apparently it's true
There's no slot machines past the pearly gates
Why do we kid ourselves?
We grow old and wise
We just lose our minds

The dinner is a hit
The guests are full of spirits
They gather around the husband
He's versed in party tricks
The wife is in the bedroom
Smearing her makeup, makeup, make it up
But she's got a lover on the side
Motels, cheap wine
She says "You can't base love off the pity fuck,
unless they've got a lot of money."

'Cause it's the games that we play
'Cause we need to exist
We're not humans, we're citizens
It's the one on the ground
With his hands on his heart
It's the cleavage of division
It's all jagged and jaded
But it suits us
We just fake it through

. . .


"Bon Voyage"
And promptly he hung up the phone
There was a doorbell ringing
So he snuck out onto the terrace
He said "If these were my last words,
would they even make print?
If all I had to say was simply over said
by those old heretics."
These words are counterfeit
Xeroxed off of memory
And no one's listening
Hey

Twilight dawns
All the champagne is gone
All that's left is left behind
Doorbells, still lives

"Since you're leaving
was it a hollowed out heart?
It seems like you've been yearning for some wordly position.
Somewhere you can curl up in a little ball."

It seems the world collapses
In the mother's womb
The place of birth
Where we're all condemned
It's the warm, sad, jaded end
Starving for salvation of a terrace
Drunk, tired, and alone
Farewell dead skin

These words are second-hand
They're dry
They're cracked-plastic lies
They're cheap old whores
Who wasted their lives
In search of the warmest womb

. . .


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