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Matt Nathanson




Music World  →  Lyrics  →  M  →  Matt Nathanson  →  Albums  →  Still Waiting For Spring

Matt Nathanson Album


Still Waiting For Spring (1999)
1999
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. . .



Hooray, Hooray
Here comes the parade
Someday, someday
I'll spit these thoughts out
Before they stain me
Finally, they're here for me
I've been waiting now for days
Hooray, hooray….hooray.

. . .



She said, "Lately, fallings been
easy on me..a lot like breathing used to be
and call me crazy, but I was thinking
maybe you'd be waiting on the ground
to come and catch me
and you come around here
you open up your wings
and I'm drowning
you open up your wings
and I'm gone"
She said, "Maybe you're all the same
you say you'll never leave
until you're gone again
and little pieces fall away
and I am left the fool
clobbered and clumsy and slowly fading
and you come around here
you open up your wings
and I'm drowning
you open up your wings
and I'm gone"

. . .



Took your words like you said I should
and look at what good they've done me
I've played support system, you played victim
and look at what good it's done
and you trip me up
leave me standing with your awkward, untouchable lips
It's a cruel world, I've found
It's a cruel world, but I'm a lucky boy

You're so glorious, a waste of time
You're the safety in lying
You are radiator heat, you're the winter blankets sleep
You're the excuse that I use when I want to stop trying
And start waiting for the sky to fall
They tell me it's a cruel world that I've found
It's a cruel world and I'm a lucky boy

You're not gold to me
I was wrong
You're not gold and there'll be
Centuries left when you're gone.

. . .



You win, I quit
I'm certain you let my hands
Wander your hips…
Just to leave me desperate now
I remember your thread thin arms
I remember your hands
And how easily it seemed to me
That they could rip me open

Baby, I'm falling away
Baby, I'm falling away

Wasted my Septembers with you stuck up in my head
Raced the days closed in the hopes that the mornings would swell again
Don't offer me rewards dear, that's a weight that I don't need
I've seen stronger men draped over your shoulder
So filled with praises, to drunk to leave

Baby, I'm falling away
Baby, I'm falling away

You were always good at putting words together
About how you always liked me better when I never came around
You were always good at putting words together
And wearing them loud

. . .



I met a new one and she looks just like you
She gives me everything that you didn't want to
And maybe I don't need saving after all
She sticks in my ribs almost better than you did
And maybe I'm tired or maybe she glows

I wonder if you're still defending
I wonder if you're still defending

Met someone with your eyes and skin
I can convince her of everything
And baby, it's so delicious you should
Come here and see for yourself
"I'm gone", you said, "if this is all there is…
You'll never shine alone

And I wonder if you're still defending
I wonder if you're still defending

You've been so wrong
For so long now

(I can fall alone if all
if I can fall away)

I've kissed others lips
And they promised me healing
It's easy if you try

. . .



Trailed by a mess
Of masking tape construction paper
And the best of intentions
He tried to patch up every hole as he went
Back and forth and back again
And his friends half full of half concerns
Embarrassed looks and tired words
They burrowed deeper into the ignorant
Little lives they preferred
And he envied their distance
Their lack of concern
He thought,
Once I shed the whole of me
Once I shed the whole of me
Then I'll be smiling

He cursed himself
And his instinct to nurse
Every idea to health
And all of the falls that he'd spent
Trying to coax his name from the mouths
Of success
He thought
Once I shed the whole of me
Once I shed the whole of me
Then I'll be smiling.

They litter me with small awareness'
Then they ask if I'm good enough
They litter me with small awareness'
Just to wake me up
Why do the fools wake me up?

. . .



"What a spoiled boy I've been
My mouth full, mess, my arms outstretched
I've got palm sweat, I'm smiling like I'm
Competition
Well, maybe I'm yours"

She said, "I know you, you're a salesman's son
And you're pimping pretty junk"
And I said,
"What am I supposed to do
They've built the scenes around you
And I need more than this"
And she said, "what am I supposed to do
Look at what's been come of you
And I need more than this"

"Go on then, hitch me up, baby,
If what I am is not enough
Because I do love the glow you get
When you're told word for word
How to think for yourself

"I'm tired
Of baring my teeth when I smile"

. . .



I've got bravery that shorts out on me
I see superstars in common thieves
And I see all you give up
And I try to be as much

Everything you say it sounds like gospel
Everything you say it sounds like gospel to me

I feel cheated
Tangled up repeatedly
Owed a piece of everything
And
Still you come around
With scissors to cut me down

Everything you say it sounds like gospel
Everything you say it sounds like gospel to me

It's all I can do to win for you

. . .



I must be glorious
I must be a sight to see
Oh maybe you could comfort me
And I come to you strangled
In things I'm told are flattering
Maybe you could come and comfort me

And all the wan, hip, full lipped lovers
Are locked against one another
And I waiver, uncomfortable in my skin

Wait here for me
I'll be back for more and you'll see
And maybe, I'll be saved
And amazing again

You called us perfect
Because we slipped into awkward so easily
So maybe you could comfort me
And I've been better than this before
I know you've seen me be
So maybe you could come and comfort me

. . .



This time, I'll be sailing
No more bailing boats for me
I'll be out there on the sea
Just my confidence and me

And I'll be awful sometimes
Weakened to my knees
But I'll learn to get by
On little victories

This time, I'll have no fear
I'll be standing strong and tall
Turn my back towards them all

And I'll be awful sometimes
Weakened to my knees
And I'll learn to get by
On the little victories
And if the world decides to catch up with me
Still little victories

. . .


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