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The Decemberists
The Decemberists


Background information
Origin Portland, Oregon, United States
Genre(s) Indie Rock
Folk-Rock
Art Rock
Baroque Pop
Progressive Rock
Years active 2000—present
Label(s) Capitol Records
Kill Rock Stars
Website Website
Members
Colin Meloy
Chris Funk
Jenny Conlee
Nate Query
John Moen
Former members
Jesse Emerson
Ezra Holbrook
Rachel Blumberg
David Langenes
Petra Haden



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  T  →  The Decemberists  →  Albums  →  The King Is Dead

The Decemberists Album


The King Is Dead (01/18/2011)
01/18/2011
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Here we come to a turning of the season
Witness to the arc towards the sun
A neighbor's blessed burden within reason
Becomes a burden borne of all and one

And nobody, nobody knows
Let the yoke fall from our shoulders
Don't carry it all, don't carry it all
We are all our hands and holders
Beneath this bold and brilliant sun
And this I swear to all

A monument to build beneath the arbors
Upon a plinth that towers t'wards the trees
Let every vessel pitching hard to starboard
Lay its head on summer's freckled knees

And nobody, nobody knows
Let the yoke fall from our shoulders
Don't carry it all, don't carry it all
We are all our hands and holders
Beneath this bold and brilliant sun
And this I swear to all

A there a wreath of trillium and ivy
Laid upon the body of a boy
Lazy will the loam come from its hiding
And return this quiet searcher to the soil

So raise a glass to turnings of the season
And watch it as it arcs towards the sun
And you must bear your neighbor's burden within reason
And your labors will be born when all is done

And nobody, nobody knows
Let the yoke fall from our shoulders
Don't carry it all, don't carry it all
We are all our hands and holders
Beneath this bold and brilliant sun
And this I swear to all
And this I swear to all
And this I swear to all
And this I swear to all
To all
To all
To all

. . .


Had a dream
You and me and the war of the end-times
And I believe
California succumbed to the fault line
We heaved relief
As scores of innocents died

And the Andalusian tribes
Setting the lay of Nebraska alight
‘Til all that remain is the arms of the angels

Hetty Green
Queen of supply-side bonhomie bone-drab
(Know what I mean?)
On the road
It's well advised that you follow your own bag
In the year of the chewable Ambien tab

And the Panamanian child
Stands at the dowager empress' side
And all that remain is the arms of the angels
And all that remain is the arms of the angels

When you've receded into loam
And they're picking at your bones
We'll come home

We'll come home

Quiet now
Will we gather to conjure the rain down?
Will we now
Build a civilization below ground?
And I'll be crowned the community kick-it-around

And the Andalusian tribes
Setting the lay of Nebraska alight
‘Til all that remain is the arms of the angel
‘Til all that remain is the arms of the angels

. . .


Big mountain, wide river
There's an ancient pull
These tree trunks, these stream beds
Leave our bellies full

They sing out:
I am going to stand my ground
You rise to me and I'll blow you down
I am going to stand my ground
You rise to me and I'll blow you down

Hey Henry can you hear me?
Let me see those eyes
This distance between us
Can seem a mountain size

But boy:
You are going to stand your ground
They rise to you, you blow them down
Let me see you stand your ground
If they rise to you, you blow them down

My darling, my sweetheart
I am in your sway
To cold climes comes springtime
So let me hear you say

My love:
I am going to stand my ground
They rise to me and I'll blow them down
I am going to stand my ground
They rise to me and I'll blow them down

. . .


Get the rocks in the box
Get the water right down to your socks
This bulkhead's built of fallen brethren bones

We all do what we can
We endure our fellow man
And we sing our songs to the headframes' creaks and moans

And it's one two three
On the wrong side of the lee
What were you meant for?
What were you meant for?
And it's seven eight nine
You get your shuffle back in line
And if you ever make it to ten you won't make it again
And if you ever make it to ten you won't make it again

And you won't make a dime
On this gray Granite Mountain Mine
Of dirt you're made and to dirt you will return

So while we're living here
Let's get this little one thing clear
There's plenty of men to die; you don't jump your turn

And it's one two three
On the wrong side of the lee
What were you meant for?
What were you meant for?
And it's seven eight nine
You get your shuffle back in line
And if you ever make it to ten you won't make it again
And if you ever make it to ten you won't make it again

And it's one two three
On the wrong side of the lee
What were you meant for?
What were you meant for?
And it's seven eight nine
You get your shuffle back in line
And if you ever make it to ten you won't make it again
And if you ever make it to ten you won't make it again
And if you ever make it to ten you won't make it again

. . .


On a winter's Sunday I go
To clear away the snow
And green the ground below

April all an ocean away
Is this the better way to spend the day?
Keeping the winter at bay

What were the words I meant to say before you left?
When I could see your breath lead
Where you were going to
Maybe I should just let it be
And maybe it will all come back to me
Sing: O January O

How I lived a childhood in snow
And all my teens in tow
Stuffed in strata of clothes

Pale the winter days after dark
Wandering the gray memorial park
A fleeting beating of hearts

What were the words I meant to say before she left?
When I could see her breath lead
Where she was going to
Maybe I should just let it be
And maybe it will all come back to me
Sing: O January O

. . .


See this ancient riverbed
See where all my folly's led
Down by the water and down by the old main drag

I was just some tow-head teen
Feeling ‘round for fingers to get in between
Down by the water and down by the old main drag

The season rubs me wrong
The summer swells anon
So knock me down, tear me up
But I would bear it all broken just to fill my cup
Down by the water and down by the old main drag

Sweet descend this rabble ‘round
The pretty little patter of a seaport town
Rolling in the water and rolling down the old main drag

All dolled up in gabardine
The lash-flashing Leda of pier nineteen
Queen of the water and queen of the old main drag

The season rubs me wrong
The summer swells anon
So knock me down, tear me up
But I would bear it all broken just to fill my cup
Down by the water and down by the old main drag

The season rubs me wrong
The summer swells anon
So knock me down, tear me up
But I would bear it all broken just to fill my cup
Down by the water and down by the old main drag
Down by the water and down by the old main drag
Down by the water and down by the old main drag

. . .


Baby wants a new spin
Baby wants a broken heart
Hear you found the lynchpin
To keep it all from falling apart

But you keep on rolling
Yes you keep on rolling
Keep on rolling
You keep on rolling

Better find a way
Better kick it from your big brown eyes
I hear it tightens up
When you fall at the fifteenth try

Like a ship at ocean
Like a ship at ocean
Like a ship at ocean
Like a ship at sea

You spit thick and you cross your heart
But the culvert's all run dry
From keeping shotgun-shy
All arise! I'll just be mine tonight

So the dollar shop shoppers
Broke the lock and they knocked you down
Better call the coppers
If you need someone to push you around

But you keep on stealing
You keep on stealing
Yes, you keep on stealing
‘Til there's nothing left to steal

You spit thick and you cross your heart
But the culvert's all run dry
From keeping shotgun-shy
All arise! I'll just be mine tonight

. . .


Here's a hymn to welcome in the day
Heralding a summer's early sway
And all the bulbs all coming in
To begin
The thrushes bleating battle with the wrens
Disrupts my reverie again

Pegging clothing on the line
Training jasmine how to vine
Up the arbor to your door
And more
You're standing on the landing with the war
You shouldered all the night before

And once upon it
The yellow bonnets
Garland all the lawn
And you were waking
And day was breaking
A panoply of song
And summer comes to Springville Hill

A barony of ivy in the trees
Expanding out its empire by degrees
And all the branches burst to bloom
In the boom
Heaven sent this cardinal maroon
To decorate our living room

And once upon it
The yellow bonnets
Garland all the lawn
And you were waking
And day was breaking
A panoply of song
And summer comes to Springville Hill

And years from now when this old light
Isn't ambling anymore
Will I bring myself to write
“I give my best to Springville Hill”

And once upon it
The yellow bonnets
Garland all the lawn
And you were waking
And day was breaking
A panoply of song
And summer comes to Springville Hill

. . .


Come the war
Come the avarice
Come the war
Come hell

Come attrition
Come the reek of bones
Come attrition
Come hell

And this is why
Why we fight
Why we lie awake
This is why
This is why we fight
And when we die
We will die
With our arms unbound
This is why
This is why we fight
Come hell

Bride of quiet
Bride of all unquiet things
Bride of quiet
Bride of hell

Come the archers
Come the infantry
Come the archers
Of hell

And this is why
Why we fight
Why we lie awake
This is why
This is why we fight
And when we die
We will die
With our arms unbound
This is why
This is why we fight
Come hell

So come to me
Come to me now
Lay your arms around me
This is why
This is why we fight
Come hell

. . .


Dear Avery
I think of you only
Were you waving
Were you dead on the vine?

Oh Avery
To think of you lonely
Would I could just grab you
By the nape of your neck

There are times life will rattle your bones
And will bend your limbs
But you're still far and away the boy you've ever been
So you bend back and shake at the frame
Of the frame you made
(But don't you shake alone)
Please, Avery, come home

Head strong
You and your long arms
Listing lazily
On the cusp of your teens

But you were my Avery
And when you needed saving
I could just grab you
By the nape of your neck

There are times life will rattle your bones
And will bend your limbs
But you're still far and away the boy you've ever been
So you bend back and shake at the frame
Of the frame you made
(But don't you shake alone)
Please, Avery, come home

. . .


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