Levi The Poet - Chapter Four: Rooster Cogburn In Indian Territory lyrics
[Levi The Poet - Chapter Four: Rooster Cogburn In Indian Territory lyrics]
God
When the sun sets (or escapes)
Well there is a painter that
Paints and when he paints
We just take in the ripples
The paints make when
They swell against the textures on the page
And name them "waves"
Back home, my other spends his
Nights all alone, and thinks
"it's all about perspective and
Taking my thoughts captive"
He'd be captivated by it
It's all counterfeit it's
All functional saviors
That don't function or save you
It's all identity drift it's all
Grandiose promises exposed as illegitimate
It is the whale my father seeks and swears by
Like it will bring unity to our family
It's the way my mother drove away the same
Day that she drove the man to drink
And called it "killing two
Birds with one stone"
(or three, if you count me)
I was a seed she used to say that I was
The only beautiful thing that ever
Blossomed from her branches
But, I guess I wasn't quite
Beautiful enough to keep the gun was cocked
And loaded years before I ever
Watched her leave, but we always saw
Her finger on the trigger, trembling
I have heard tales of lovers broken by
The bullets we call our parents
For example:
In 50 BC, Parthenius of Nicaea penned
A Uranian lover into Narcissus' story
Who gutted himself with a sword
On the man's doorstep
In 8 AD, Ovid found Echo in
A mountain crevice, rejected and lonely
Until only faint shivers of
Her whispers remained
(To me, this far removed
They are as clear as the day)
With that nymph's voice in my
Head here in Poseidon's domain, for all
Of the fury with which Ameinias
And that pagan deity prayed, for all
Of the fiction children believe and
By which we are betrayed, and despite
The wind constantly driving and tossing the
Waves, in all my double-mindedness
I still hear the refrain:
"This is not your story"
When I watch my dad walk starboard
I picture a pirate
Walking the plank, looking down
Into the water, terrified
Only to see his reflection and fall so madly
In love that he dives headfirst into himself
And becomes all that I argued with those
Echoes about what he deserved to be
I picture Nemesis like a John Wayne
Movie i know you always
Loved True Grit, but at the
End of the script
Mattie still doesn't have her daddy
Back i hope that, one day, we'll be able to
Forgive, but until then
Maybe presence is greater
Than answers, or revenge if Zeus cast
My mother out to Hades
She'd still be just as gone as she is now if
You sent ghosts to tell me
All of the reasons why
I still can't sleep at night
I'd be wide awake, listening
If you can hear me
I'd rather have you than all of my answers
When the sun sets (or escapes)
Well there is a painter that
Paints and when he paints
We just take in the ripples
The paints make when
They swell against the textures on the page
And name them "waves"
Back home, my other spends his
Nights all alone, and thinks
"it's all about perspective and
Taking my thoughts captive"
He'd be captivated by it
It's all counterfeit it's
All functional saviors
That don't function or save you
It's all identity drift it's all
Grandiose promises exposed as illegitimate
It is the whale my father seeks and swears by
Like it will bring unity to our family
It's the way my mother drove away the same
Day that she drove the man to drink
And called it "killing two
Birds with one stone"
(or three, if you count me)
I was a seed she used to say that I was
The only beautiful thing that ever
Blossomed from her branches
But, I guess I wasn't quite
Beautiful enough to keep the gun was cocked
And loaded years before I ever
Watched her leave, but we always saw
Her finger on the trigger, trembling
I have heard tales of lovers broken by
The bullets we call our parents
For example:
In 50 BC, Parthenius of Nicaea penned
A Uranian lover into Narcissus' story
Who gutted himself with a sword
On the man's doorstep
In 8 AD, Ovid found Echo in
A mountain crevice, rejected and lonely
Until only faint shivers of
Her whispers remained
(To me, this far removed
They are as clear as the day)
With that nymph's voice in my
Head here in Poseidon's domain, for all
Of the fury with which Ameinias
And that pagan deity prayed, for all
Of the fiction children believe and
By which we are betrayed, and despite
The wind constantly driving and tossing the
Waves, in all my double-mindedness
I still hear the refrain:
"This is not your story"
When I watch my dad walk starboard
I picture a pirate
Walking the plank, looking down
Into the water, terrified
Only to see his reflection and fall so madly
In love that he dives headfirst into himself
And becomes all that I argued with those
Echoes about what he deserved to be
I picture Nemesis like a John Wayne
Movie i know you always
Loved True Grit, but at the
End of the script
Mattie still doesn't have her daddy
Back i hope that, one day, we'll be able to
Forgive, but until then
Maybe presence is greater
Than answers, or revenge if Zeus cast
My mother out to Hades
She'd still be just as gone as she is now if
You sent ghosts to tell me
All of the reasons why
I still can't sleep at night
I'd be wide awake, listening
If you can hear me
I'd rather have you than all of my answers