Music World
 
Find Artists:
 
 
 
Russian versionSwitch to Russian 
Kevin Devine




Music World  →  Lyrics  →  K  →  Kevin Devine  →  Albums  →  Split The Country, Split The Street

Kevin Devine Album


Split The Country, Split The Street (2005)
2005
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
. . .


The bricks get laid,
and they get torn up,
and laid again,
but the bricks always get torn up again.

Your friends won't wait,
so don't believe that shit,
when they say they'll wait.
Trust me; your friends will not wait for you.
Then you'll be stoned in some park,
just nodding your head and pinching your arms,
when a girl walks along.
She's humming your song,
with your t-shirt on.
That's when you're done,
Oh, that's when you're done...

There's a cotton crush
down in the southern states.
But back up here, man, we've got
so much thread and space
to waste, waste, waste.

There's a microphone
picking every word up
and it shuts itself off
when it's sure that's its heard enough.....

The quiet can scrape
all the calm from your bones,
but maybe it should.
Maybe we need to be hollowed
to get up and grow,
and stop fucking around,
to kick off our braces and start straightening out.
Let's sift through the static
to find a simpler sound
Let's sift through the static
to find a simpler sound...
simpler sound than the shit that's clouding our heads now

. . .


The afterparty's rockin', girl,
And everybody's dancing for you,
But you're just drinking all my Ballantine
And laughing while your lips turn blue.
Your friends are all uptight
And everybody's in an awkward mood,
So you keep drinking all my Ballantine
And laughing while your lips turn blue.

I'm not really planning on coming back
I thought I told you that.
I guess I dreamt I told you that.

The streets are slow and silent
And the backyard is a beat parade.
So, I'm just sweeping up the garbage
While I listen to the songs you play,
Where everybody's trying but they
Just can't get it straight.
So, I'm just sweeping up the garbage
While I whistle all the songs you play.

I keep changing my mind all the time
I hope you think that that's alright.
Yeah, I hope you tell me that that's all right.

So, I'm just slurring in the shade
When the daylight breaks,
And you and me have got it made.
Yeah, I think you and me have got it made.

. . .


Your skin's in my mouth,
but I'm thinkin' about
thousands of things
That don't got your name.

So, I'm distant and weird;
we stop and you're all ears.
But how can I say,

"I've just been thinking how it's harder every year
to find excuses that'll keep me in the clear;
the arbitrary lines I impress in the sand,
the proof that piles in my trash can
while the skin on my hands is looking older every day.
The lies I've told have turned to leather on my face.
The love I've lost has turned to needles in my heart.
But I'm to blame for all the bad parts.
They're the choices I've made, hey hey."

That's when I turn my face away,
and I watch the debates. Now, I can't see see straight
Take abortion away, and both sides are just the same,
so I'm not sure why I vote,
'cause I just don't know
what difference it makes.

It seems to me we get the same shit from them both.
Reform don't work; I think it's time we tried revolt,
but I don't got the guts to jump up and go first,
so I just shout until my throat hurts,
and I curse and I curse
at what we fucked up in Iraq.
You say support the troops; I do.
I want them all brought back,
and every building that you bombed raised from the ground.
And pull your contractors the fuck out.
If you really go and reinstate the draft,
you'll straight away just split the country straight in half,
so try arresting everyone who sends their draft cards back.
I'll be returning mine in no time flat.

In a sense we're the same,
struggling to save face.
It's a question of scope:
how far you're willing to go
to make rights of your wrongs,
despite the risk involved.
It's a question of faith,

'Cause if we wait until we've all been burned to ash
to tell the truth about the shit buried in our past,
we'll split a taxi to that firepit way down south.
So, let's rise up and open our mouths.

'Cause you remind me that it's harder every year
to find excuses that'll keep me in the clear;
the arbitrary lines I impress in the sand,
the proof that piles in my trash can.

And if you really go and reinstate the draft,
you'll straight away just split the country straight in half,
so try arresting everyone who sends their draft cards back.
I'll be returning mine in no time flat.

. . .


I'm counting out dollars while I limp to your brownstone.
I can just barely cover what I need to get back home.
And I know we're allowed indiscretion in our lives,
But I've been making mine count every night for a while.

I keep deleting your number and name from my cell phone,
But I call every day; that's as far as my act goes.
What you have helps me turn down the noise that I make,
But when it stops it just pokes me and keeps me awake.
My friends always warned about living cliches
But my friends aren't there when I meet you these days.
I count people and street signs from the back of your car
And then skip back excited to wherever they are.

I take risks in the stall while they talk by the bar.
I won't go back outside 'til my memory starts
Erasing itself into something less brutal,
Some beautiful bullshit I pretend to belong to.
For as long as the trush tucks itself into bed,
And the beat of my heart and the heat of my breath
Keep me hopeful and distant and proud of myself,
I'll keep ringing your bell every night around twelve.

. . .


I was consumed with proving you were a liar.
But what good would that do?
We both know the truth;
We were there and we lived it.

But then we kept rewriting and revising it.
Rehashing and repeating
It was bad for us both.
And I was passive aggressive--I'm sorry,
I was anxious to let it all go.

You're no one else's problem but you sure are mine....
You're no one else's problem but you sure are mine......

So many words and they all burn like blood on my tongue....
So many songs and I hate singing every one.
I worry that I may never be satisfied.
I try and try and try,
But it's there in the front of my mind:
Bodies rotting in water into mixtures of color that blur all the time.

You're no one else's problem but you sure are mine....
You're no one else's problem but you sure are mine....
You're no one else's problem but you sure are....

Yeah, you sure are mine.

. . .


I got a sweet tooth
Sunk in a soft spot
That busts my jaw loose
And makes my mouth rot
And I caught a bad break
The same one you caught
That turned your hair white
And choked your breath off

So I'm buried by the buzz of a year gone numb
I'm buried by the buzz of a year gone numb
I found gossip in the ivy and it's been swallowing my house
And I found bones in the foundation that I'm just picking out now
So I'm buried by the buzz of a year gone numb

I've got a fistful of shattered seashells
That scream like soldiers stuck down an oil well
I saw a bad sign lit up like Broadway
And I watched my head spin
And I heard my voice shake

I'm buried by the buzz of a year gone numb
I'm buried by the buzz of a year gone numb
I found trouble in the ghost town
That I've been building with my hands
But I found comfort in the snowstorm
That I've been piling on my past
So I'm buried by the buzz of a year gone numb

So I'm buried by the buzz of a year gone numb
I'm buried by the buzz of a year gone numb
I see symptoms of a sickness
In every stranger on the street
And I see danger in the distance
Speeding straight for you and me
So I'm buried by the buzz
I'm buried by the buzz
I'm buried by the buzz

. . .


i saw your haircut in a storefront
the choppy sides and perfect bangs
i loved the way it framed the model's cheekbones
the blank expression on her face
so i went inside and tried to buy it
but i got told it's not for sale
i got embarrased and i decked the sale's clerk
stole the wig and ran like hell
and i figured i would come and show you
so i kept runnin' towards your house
then i remembered i don't have your address
least not the one you live at now
so i headed home to get collected
to let the red flush from my face
i took out my notebook and i sketched you smilin'
i like to think of you that way
and i put your haircut in my closet
next to your tshirts and your cards
i turned the light out and i sunk in slowly
countin' sheep and breathing hard
but when it comes it's way too quickly
and it busts apart the faith i've grown
see i can't stop myself from hurtin' you
so i guess i won't

. . .


You probably don't wear your glasses
But you probably need them to read
You probably value your downtime
And you probably don't get much sleep

And you probably don't like the movies
But you probably go anyway
And you probably fight with your parents a lot
When you feel like there's nothing to say

And you probably don't care for punk rock
But you probably own 'Nevermind'
And you probably don't talk to strangers
But you'd wish they talk to all the time

So I probably should say something to you
But id probably ruin it then
Its best for both of us if I keep my mouth shut
And stay on my side of the train

. . .


So there's hundreds of auburn alabama acres
With rows of red roofs over warm farmers daughters
Who've got no intention of inviting me in
Space shines all above me so i settle myself under it.

When i wake up i'm back in my crowded city apartment
Some random men doing work off in the kitchen
Stacking mattresses up now to the ceiling and down to the floor.

My fathers sick in the hallway i hear him whistlin under the door.
I rush to lift him but you all know i am weak and you know that he is heavy.
There's no blood in his cheeks but he's smiling straight at me.

I ask the thickest of the workers "would you please come and help me out?"
He comes ambling over and says "sir, i love how your whistling sounds"

So now i drag him through the kitchen to the living room and down on the carpet
He says, "son i'm embarassed, but the sides of my head hurt.
I just know that i'm tired and i could surely use some rest."
I tear a mattress down for him and i say, "here dad sleep some on this."
I wake for real and it's over.
I'm alone in acres and my dad is still dead.

But if you underneath one of those rooftops, look out your window and invite me on in.
'cause it's cold and i'm lonely and i could sure use a friend
Yeah it's cold and i'm lonely and i could sure use a friend.
It's cold and i'm lonely and i could sure use a friend yeah

. . .


We're goin' out tonight my son,
So bring your flask,
And bring your cross,
And bring your gun
And I've been borrowin' lots of cash
So you won't be needin' none
Just wear your good shoes
'Cause we're goin' out my son

And I got a car loaded up with gas
And parked right outside
I got a city map and a mission in my mind
I just need someone ridin' with me
Or a brother to my right
To keep me company
In that big ol' car outside

'Cause I don't wanna think about the world right now
I wanna go from bar-to-bar and wash the taste clean out
And I wanna feel the way I felt
When we were kids messin' around
Before I thought about the world I got to now

But don't go feelin' all stuck
And shamed for yr damned ol' dad
'Cause I've seen troubles
That could kill ten stronger men
It's just that all this weight from la-la-livin's
Been catchin' fire in my hands
Well, fuck this town son,
I wanna make 'em crawl again

And you tell your lady
Not to leave on that light
You tell her not to sit up
Worryin' all goddamn night
But if she's awake when you crawl home
You just shut your mouth and smile nice
You say Baby, I'm tired.
Can we please turn off those lights?
You say Baby, I'm tired.
I just wanna shut off all those lights.

. . .


I'm pushing pins through the pavement.
I'm adding days to the week.
I feel the city sidewalk shake beneath me
While everyone sleeps.

I'm spiking punch and Judy send offs
With silver dollars I stole
From Michael's dresser somewhere back in Brooklyn
While he was out digging holes.

I wrote the horse you rode in on a letter
To keep the focus off me, and make it stay there,
To keep you guessing while the shift change splits the streets,
But I still can't sleep.

. . .


It's going straight to my head:
I think I'm falling in love again.
Such simple miracles have happened
Since your steady hands have come and
Stopped my unraveling.

Your fingers, built for the piano,
Work out the knots that line my back.
The stress I've stored since last December;
But now, it doesn't matter.
I've learned to leave it in my past.

And I feel good about the future,
This clarity I've never had.
You are the bounce in my step,
The burst of blood in my chest,
The prayer I've kept in my head.

You are the knock of my knees,
The swollen sound of each song
I scribble down and tear up,
Because they never match up.
You are the words I fumble for.

In the morning,
You are the daybreak,
And I am glad.

And at night,
You are the dream
I fall asleep to have.

. . .


In a motel room, with the Bible out
Combing scriptures for answers about
What's happening now

'Cause I cant believe my eyes
And I just don't trust my ears
But I've heard a man can always come find
Some solace here

And Lord, I know that we dont talk
Often at all anymore
But desperate folks do desperate things
So I'm stapling this note to your door

Please, turn the ship around
And lock the course in place
And keep the train tracks nailed to the ground
Or pull the emergency break

'Cause I've lost my faith in man
Just like I once lost faith in you
And I've been covering all kinds of ground
Thinking hard 'bout what else i could lose

And I know how I look
To come crawling back
Acting like you owe me proof
But this is bigger than me
I think it's bigger than you too

So if this gets to you
Yeah if you ever come home
Just know I won't be awaiting the postman
I will not be glued to my phone
I'll know a change has come
I'll know that you exist

When all our bombs stop exploding
And when all of those landmines are stripped
And we stop blowin' up strangers' houses
And making orphans of innocent kids
And people stop thinking the world's theirs for the taking
'Cause your world once told them it is

'Til then, i'm gonna shake my head
I'm gonne bite my tongue
When people tell me, 'Have faith and be patient,
We're waiting for God to show up.'

Yeah 'til then, it's one more skeptical song
And i'll be glad as hell
If you come and prove me wrong

. . .


blog comments powered by Disqus



© 2011 Music World. All rights reserved.