Okkervil River
Okkervil River is an indie-rock band.
Some nights I thirst for real blood, for real knives, for real cries. And then the flash of steel from real guns in real life really fills my mind.
Kids get lost, lambs out wandering. Bigger, blacker things go following them into a patch of forest somebody once planted for this song. (It's not over. Phones are still ringing. Eyes are still rolling, eyes are still clinging. Something in the air starts singing...Radios switched on and buzzing. Something in the wind starts humming. Something in the field starts hunting...) Kids grow up and kids go numb. And, kids, it's coming. Kids, it's going to come.
And I really do think that there’s probably more good than anger or selfishness, sickness, or sadness would ever completely allow us to have in this life, I think I'm sure. But that doesn't mean it's bad.
And I think I believe that, if stones could dream, they'd dream of being laid side-by-side, piece-by-piece, and turned into a castle for some towering queen they're unable to know. And when that queen's daughter came of age, I think she'd be lovely and stubborn and brave, and suitors would journey from kingdoms away to make themselves known. And I think that I know the bitter dismay of a lover who brought fresh bouquets every day when she turned him away to remember some knave who once gave just one rose, one day, years ago.
Look, though, I don't know what notes you want to hear played, I can't think what lines you'd like me to sing or say, and I'm not sure what subjects you want mentioned. So pause and add your own intentions.
There is no escaping the thing that is making its home in your radio.
The house in the valley is open this week.
Imagine the sea looking in
at the slowly moving sheets.
Honestly.