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buckfever underground - who's your memory كلمات الأغنية

easy, they said. i figured notthat harmonica staggered
nails through me
as i expected from the man with the hunch
this drug of choice rips up a festive schedule
it’s a sip and a traffic fine, a swelter full of fires
shelter from the tape i walk along a streetlong scene
as the last bits of bird gathers a tree
the hunters of the casual glimpse
festoon their already remote chairs
in the middle of noise i look at my fingers
like i lost a word in the dictionary
on the 31st of february
camera strapped around my neck throughout
this familiar name of a foreign land
in a local street on the t-shirt in the corner
tv takes me where i need to go anyway
email me your regrets from england
it’s spit on a map and you know it
frame a face of dark-pupiled desire
i ask her about it but she claims innocence
i say no i like it
she walks away
as is
this drink i pour these teeth i pout
this day i pray for
arrives like a cursed scattered thunder
in a visit to old people i feel a continent
a tremor i’ve known to be c-mbersome
turns to pleasure under shreds of full moon
this licking underskin, this thing i think
is the people i am, the places i fall on
i’ll be saying volatile things with my frowns
we’ll sit in the dusk with hints of sun and seasons
egrets unhinge from the water, latch into patterns of
wings
you’ll unleash a smile behind a hand
low noise will fog around our feet
distant dust red like a scream
i’ll be oblivious of the warmth in your eyes

the texture of your talk will p-ss me by
my words will be dull depictions
dinful vernacular tapped into a table
in a landscape made for meandering
in a soundtrack of history
breathing will be all the dust i need
but it’s not what you’re saying, i think
you’re a sprawling endless gleeful blaze
a race along familiar stations
stations i only know the names of
a race i started with the sun in my eyes
a blaze i smothered with my hands
desire fear in a job
want apprehension in flat-rates
consider journeys as traveling
darkness for the stars in it
count your years when you’re twenty
linger in your holidays
spill your days like coffee
weeks of ignorance and lager
things said to mirrors
fingerprints of dreams
quietly compete with friends
get a girl then a wife get a kid and a life
burgle hardware stores
buy safety and bliss
make contacts and money
live like other people
tap the future into a keyboard
wonder remotely where she is
whoever she wants to be
strangely long for it
moods hidden in a phrase
death by stare
hearts full of folds
phone calls that don’t come
unposted letters
angels unwritten
who’s your memory? and how is it?

- buckfever underground

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