La Dispute - Stay Happy There (Post-Hardcore.RU) | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• La Dispute
• Stay Happy There (Post-Hardcore.RU)

If I could playback every moment, to you now, spent lovesick and swollen on mornings, mincing garlic on the counter by the sink. If I could hit the instant replay on only every good day, would any of it catch you by surprise?
When you say "Something is missing now", that's what came back to me, normal mornings like that: set the knife down and forget where I'd left it; making breakfast; put coffee on the stove; then scour every counter for the knife. Don't be shy. Don't be kind.

Somewhere snow collects and bends the boughs of pines...

But doesn't it seem a bit wasteful to you to throw away all of the time we spent perfecting our love in close quarters and confines? Isn't it wasteful?
And I am terrified that it doesn't feel painful to me yet.

Somewhere on top of the high rise, there's a woman on the edge of a building at the ledge and traffic's backing up on 35...

It's alright. I will fix whatever is not the sweetness in your eyes. Just sit down. Please sit down, here at the table, and we'll talk.

Somewhere televisions light up in the night...

I know things weren't right. Maybe we were never cut out for the Midwest life. Maybe we'd have done much better on a coast. There are certain things I doubt we'll ever know.

I know you were getting tired of my drinking. I guess I was never cut out for the coke scene. You were worried I would end up like your father and tired of the smoke.

And somewhere the wind blows.
Somewhere a storm touches down north in Hudsonville.
Somewhere the coffee starts to boil on the stove.
And somewhere the wind blows.
Somewhere the river levels finally getting low.
Somewhere I'm up past dawn till
Somewhere you live here still,
Somewhere you're already gone.
Somewhere a radio is playing in a living room, says: "The city lacks the funds to fix the bridge".
Somewhere the deer are overrun, so they're introducing wolves back on the ridge.

And from here, in the kitchen, I can hear the neighbors in the alley, hanging linens; and the men collect the trash bins in the street. You're speaking to me but I can't understand you.
The coffee is burning.
And all of the times that we spent.
That road trip out west through desert for the rest stops the kitsch we both collect. That winter, the whole weekend we huddled by the stove. The cabin I had rented. The unexpected snow. That visit for Christmas
On television binges
We'll see friends in Brooklyn.
Drive south to Richmond.

There's traffic on the bridge...
A woman on the ledge...
And everywhere the wind...
Everything is happening at once.