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Portugal. The Man




Music World  →  Lyrics  →  P  →  Portugal. The Man  →  Albums  →  Waiter:

Portugal. The Man Album


Waiter:  (01/24/2006)
01/24/2006
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Marching With 6 (feat. Nic Newsham of Gatsbys American Dream)
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Elephants (feat. Nic Newsham of Gatsbys American Dream)
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. . .



Palms are fitted black and finely tuned
To triggers that cause bodies that tremble

But this mud looks shallow from the beach
When we hide behind such ugly faces
And the dark eyed woman lifts her head
"Why do we hide behind such ugly faces?"

Child bearing games from the streets down to the shores
They’re playing as waterways open in an obscene gaping gasp.

"Rally all your men there is work to be done"
Still we don't have the time for speaking out of place
Because he won't come down
He won’t come down
He won't come down

When lengths of snakes match each silent syllable
"With eyes like these"
Face glistening with suspense of a scalpel blade,
Clockwork calculating surgical precision.

Palms are fitted black and finely tuned
To stomachs that swallowed whole that bayou




. . .



The sun bent down and spoke with the last of the lips
They spoke of hell and things they'd never miss
Bridge shelter and the cold creek bed
That breaks backs and leads eyes down
Until faces drag against the dirt and ears living in that muddy sound
Where the white whales roll just once a year
And the arm feeds the hatchet with an African appetite
Matched machetes sparkle shine
And shape that small-scale guillotine

I’ve been getting pretty sleeping in these boxes
With those blackened mule faces outside my door
Shouting
Oooohhhhh

The club met the seal and the seal met the dog
That carried the man to the end of the trail
Where they walked down the streets pavement
Was black beneath their feet
I have been having a little trouble with these black glass lungs
And dealing in the man with the gold tooth grin




. . .



I met a face with ring rounded pocket eyes
That shaped folded banks inside
As he shivered out thoughts
They went: "golden and pale wind whispers breathe New Orleans"
Through basements and racetracks met hollowed out from stretching mouths

All these thoughts were rolled onto needles
They spilled from heads tumble like apples fell into the sky,
That’s where they hide,
Where rubies turned diamonds
Like textures like sunshine
Behind hands arms lift into its own

As the stadium sheds out the crowd into the streets
Out of their throats pours tongues licking down
"What will we become?"

Rhythms fed gently in vacuums perspired
Will stay where it's warm,

Where it's safe from the down beating drums as habits
Pull the sleep out covered in the sheets that harbor rest and sunshine


. . .



Through crooked teeth and mouthed up ties
They spit you up river just like all those lions
That walked the banks

They said, "Paint me that river
And would you use only blues
With a brilliant big black mouth and?
Lengths of pines that route the river through
Through and through"

Fashion ballrooms of the leaves
We’d like to watch the ghosts dance

They said, "Paint me that arm
That lies directly over mountains
Where the glaciers climb so tall.
One absent of the scars passing boats and ships and oars
Tend to leave with all the sounds of the ocean."

I am but a man
But a proud, proud man
Silver bells that line the way
Through baited trails.
We’ll find you there


. . .



Woke up late on that sunday morning.
woke up late yeah the sun was burning.
slides and chutes spilling explanations. slides and chutes offer alibis.

where the freeways mate and the flies congregate
there's a needle hungry for a place to sleep
where the jumpers meet in the film cloud eyes
with the doctors notes and them heavy heads we'll cry

lay my face back in the sleep finds me lazy
a fears friendly fed when you're free to be resting
birds in the sky and the rain won't soon
call in
gravel laced sunsets foaming in my belly

evident was the flood
frame it up frame it up now frame it!
evident I was told
frame it up frame it up now frame it!
a wonder it was worn
frame it up frame it up now frame it!
evident I was told.
frame it up frame it up now frame it!

Ohhh my baby's gonna take your breath away
ohhh my baby's gonna burn your soul
Ohhh my baby's gonna take your breath away
ohhh my baby's gonna burn your soul

evident was the flood
frame it up frame it up now frame it!
evident I was told
frame it up frame it up now frame it!
a wonder it was worn
frame it up frame it up now frame it!
evident I was told.
frame it up frame it up now frame it!


. . .



Conductor stood up and took role call
He sent love and happiness into the next car
"Are you in today?"
The bags are in and we plan no stops?
Just fearing sleeping in the box
“Are you in today?”

Who built the love?

Mayor stood up in high demand
He spoke in trash cars and garbage rails
“Are you in today?”

Found the feet won’t lift the feed
Slipped to the shoes just before the bed.
Beds are empty as the throats and banks
That rise free of the cries and crimes that cry
Are you in today?

"Will there be a better place?"

Teacher stood up and took role call
Sent the boots, the coats, the caps the colors
Are you in today?

Slip into the water
Slip into them jewelry cuts
Slip into the mind the coats the caps the colors and the banks
That jail the problems that go
Are you in today?

I found gold?gold got it got it?
Pears and peaches and Doctor Hippo
Met for a drink in those marshmallow clouds
Shout at pavement that’s sprouting up turnips
Who are shouting right back,
“We don’t need your lectures”


. . .



Under blankets these hills cover neatly
We’ll take steps to make sure our failures are hidden
But it’s hard when our voices echo over ripples?
That form on the lakes and the edges they prey on we'll shine

Swim around the lake
Hoping like hell we'll find shelter in
Coal mines incubating lies fathers and families,
Hammers and ties brace for the winter
Until that rumble leapt up to his jaws

Spines of furrowed earth jut jagged as they rise
Like welts up on our backs on our bellies
Its cold as the lord in the bedroom
Lord at your feet
The lords shaking the headboard
With nothing to eat

Cold restless stumbles wanders towards the light
That breaks out from the town little homes bearing sheriffs
Playing across drifts to the back of the brain
Where they flicker like fire speaking of times that they shined


. . .



The pig's spitting taxes and unwanted tasks
We say, "send me to the battle please sir!"

Chicago is dancing in xylophone laughter
We say burn the fucker down
Burn the motherfucker down

But would you please speak up
I can't hear with these clouds in my ears
The system’s down
I doubt we'll get through
Send your money for
The caterpillars to entertain

The horse has been taken
Running clubs in the pasture


. . .



If I were a bear, I'd be the greatest of all
With a speech like god so dark and foreboding
Standing up tall from the top of that hill
I’d growl up your fears from down below
They’re restless spinning around
Twisting hungry spitting tongues are restless
In the form of the god that’s speaking out

Laying bricks, growing walls, clicking stone
And the sound that's awful in our ears
Forcing sprouts and speaking out

Like a carpenter
Like these weathermen
Like my brother
These hands they never sleep
Like the foundation
Like the frames that meet
Like these builders

If I were a god I'd be the greatest of all
With a speech so soft that loud it would kill you
Standing up tall from the top of that hill
I'd shout out commands to down below
They are restless tangled mess protests burned
And ears that bleed in rivers through the pipes
That heat your homes and families’ plates


. . .



Basking briefly in this overeating indulgence of insides
But I fear he’s lower than before
Though he's stronger than he looks
He’s made of feathers mixed with oil and small servings
Of hands and feet

Up so high
"How do they flutter so damn high?"

Now begin the search that hails you home
"I think I lost my means."
He said with his face in the cup
Desperate times make for desperate people


. . .



Tommy was a preacher’s son
Now he's running through the jungle "yes sir!"
Fingers cold and fire
When you get so tired and we're so tired

Lazing back in this desert
Waitin’ for that sunny day

Tommy was a preacher’s son
Now he's running through the streets sellin’ up that cocaine
Those fires will get ya
When you get too tired and we're so tired
Eyes blister beaded fortress rolling fevered freight trains in

Well I met three men with friends in office
Smooth dark skin and ivory teeth smiles
Our boots come alive in this mud and this shit

"Life is hard to fill with teeth that bite and eat up our fears"
Through August fall of ‘69
Jesus had birthed him
He spoke in guns through crippled sheets
For Jesus had birthed him
Sugar cubes fingernails worming snakes that built the fire


. . .



Born and raised that giant was a fighter.
Mississippi.
On that canvas.
Dirty streets.
The people stood up to wave those white flags
The devil had died through the valley.
In the city.
Down south.
The people stood up and a cheer went through the air
That devil had died.

Sharpened tongues fair painted divers
Forearms rest in streams of silver
Golden people pass in silence
But it won't slip away

That giant was a mountain of a man
Walking trembles through the earth
Like a riot in the streets tearin’ Florence to the ground.
The people stood up to wave those white flags
The devil had died.

Born and raised in 65.
In the streets.
Televised.
The people stood up and a cheer went through the air
That devil had died.

That giant was a fighter.
Mississippi.
On that canvas.
Dirty streets.
The people stood up to wave those white flags
The devil had died.
In those gloves.
In them women.
In the mind.
The people stood up and a cheer went through the air
That devil had died


. . .



Where have all the people gone
Whose lives are no longer of use to them
But this system bites habit forming
But this single file is so contagious
But black eyes breed gossip
Like these perverse and perversions alike

Hibernate while you're still young
But you are getting older
So much older
So much older than you think

Crank the tap.
Itch.
Brimming with suspicions
The burrows are brimming with suspicions

Where have all the people gone
Whose guns are gold cold son of a bitch
He’s says, “I'll travel anywhere I like
I'll travel anywhere I please.”

The priest’s on the boat
And hell is on its way


. . .


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