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  Text skladby: Bright Eyes-Waste of Paint
I have a friend, he is made mostly of pain And he wakes up, drives to work, and then straight back home again He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper Well, I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a record cover And I tried to tell him he had a sense Of color and composition so magnificent
And he said, "Thank you, please but your flattery Is truly not becoming me, your eyes are poor You are blind, you see, no beauty could have come from me I am a waste of breath, of space, of time"
I knew a woman, she was dignified and true And her love for her man was one of her many virtues Until one day, she found out that he had lied And she decided the rest of her life from that point on would be a lie But she was grateful for everything that had happens And she was anxious for all that would come next?
But then she wept, what did you expect? In that big, old house with the cars she kept And "Such is life," she often said With one day leading her to the next You get a little closer to your death, which was fine with her She never got upset and with all the days she may have left She would never clean another mess or fold his shirts or look her best She was free to waste away alone
Last night, my brother, he got drunk and drove And this cop, he pulled him off to the side of the road And he said, "Officer, officer, you got the wrong man No, no, I'm a student of medicine, a son of a banker You don't understand" The cop said, "No one got hurt, you should be thankful And your carelessness, it is something awful
And no, I can't just let you go And though your father's name is known Your decisions now are yours alone You are nothing but a stepping stone On a path to debt, to loss, to shame"
The last few months I have been living with this couple Yeah, you know, the kind who buy everything in doubles Oh, they fit together, like a puzzle And I love their love and I am thankful That someone actually receives the prize that was promised By all those fairy tales that drugged us
And they still do me, I'm sick, lonely No laurel tree, just green envy Will my number come up eventually? Like love is some kind of lottery Where you scratch and see what's underneath It's 'sorry, just one cherry', 'play again', 'get lucky'
So I have been hanging out down by the trains depot No, I don't ride, I just sit and watch the people there And they remind me of wind up cars in motion The way they spin and turn and jockey for positions And I want to scream out that it all is nonsense All your live's one track, can't they see it's pointless? But then, my knees give under me
My head feels weak and suddenly it is clear to see It is not them but me, who has lost my self-identity As I hide behind these books I read, while scribbling my poetry Like art could save a wretch like me With some ideal ideology that no one could hope to achieve And I am never real, it is just a sketch in me And everything I made is trite and cheap and a waste Of paint, of tape, of time
So now I park my car down by the cathedral Where the floodlights point up at the steeples Choir practice was filling up with people Could hear the sound escaping as an echo Sloping off the ceiling at an angle And when the voices blend they sound like angels I hope there's some room still in the middle But when I lift my voice up now to reach them The range is too high, way up in Heaven
And so I hold my tongue, forget the song Tie my shoe, start walking off And try to just keep moving on With my broken heart and my absent God And I have no faith but it is all I want To be loved and believe in my soul In my soul, in my soul, in my soul