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mark kozelek & sean yeaton - daffodils كلمات الأغنية

i left the house to check out an open mic night
i was feeling very sick and my skin was a lighter shade of white
there was a young guy standing up on stage
with a menacing pose and wearing black shades
he was singing the playback and wearing a shirt with a silver skull logo thingy
he sang about flying around with paper wings and his grappling with christianity
i tapped him on the shoulder and i said, “hey, i liked your set”
but he just shrugged at me and i thought, “oh yeah, i get it”
the rest were artists mostly playing covers
but toward the end a woman got up and read a very vicious poem
that she had sent to an ex, she read it from her phone
it was venomous and intense and she didn’t miss a beat
and after its final hard punctuated diss
the whole place erupted with applause and stood up from their seats
my nagging cough was getting worse, so i had to go
but i loved all the music and the support that everyone showed
for each and every artist, whether they’re playing coldplay covers
or original pieces on seagull acoustic guitars or casio pianos

as i left and i walked through the café
i noticed colorful portraits, i noticed colorful portraits on display
all for sale, bowie and prince and beyoncé
bright purples and blues and greens and golds
but the one that stood out was mike tyson, sold
no wonder, i would have bought that one too
nothing beats mike’s smile and his warrior face tattoo
came home, the lights were out in my upstairs bedroom
i had to run an extension cord from downstairs to get a bedside lamp going
the cough kept me up all night
and my handyman came over in the morning and he saw the problem
by hitting a little switch on the wall, he called it a test b-tton
and then he told me about his sister who had p-ssed before christmas
due to an overdose on morphine while being hospitalized for an amputation procedure
then he dropped me off downtown so i could get something to eat
then i walked back home, through the graveyard
uphill, and more and more uphill
and by the time i got home
my cough was so bad tears were coming out my eyes and i had chills
i laid down in the back bedroom
like a ko’d fighter in a fetal position
knocked down by a hard-bodied blow, like what roy jones did to virgil hill
the room is white and cool
my girlfriend will be here tomorrow, it’s sardines and ramen tonight
i can’t wait to hear the sound of her car pulling up the drive

it’s night time and this cold is k!lling me
it’s got me awake for three nights
and every time i cough it’s like a frazier hook shaking me
cars, cars, cars, cars, cars, cars swishing down the highway
dogs, dogs, dogs, dogs, dogs, dogs, woo-woo-woo-woo-woo in the yards
the night is black, black, black, black, black, black, black, black, black
now it’s 5 am and i’m coughing like a chain smoker, asthma attack
i’m close to sleep and i feel a dream coming
i see myself in the dream, the back of someone’s head in my forehead
there are two eyes right above my eyes
and blood is pouring is pouring from those eyes, right into my eyes
i force myself to wake and not let the nightmare happen
it’s 5:30 am and the black night is a slightly lighter shade of black
sparrows are chirping and i’m on high alert
i just wanna sleep, i just wanna fall asleep
but i can’t, the cough is so painful and it keeps shaking me
i’ve not ever coughed this bad since the winter of ’93
when katie and i spend the winter in mendocino county
that house had a similar vibe to this one
a wood-burning stove, an awkwardly laid-out old victorian
and back then, i was reading a hank williams book
now i’m reading a game of ghosts
but i still have that hank williams paperback
in my room, to remind me of our time together
man, how the times have changed
i now seat next to caroline, but will remember you forever
now caroline’s back, she brought back some groceries and is making chicken soup
the yard guy texts me, “hey amigo, i’m outside”
and i go out and i pay him
small talk, small talk, small talk, small talk, small talk
small talk, small talk, small talk, small talk
small talk, small talk, cough, cough, cough, small talk
cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, small talk

it’s a new day now, weeks have p-ssed
a photo of daffodils
ah, this is a nice surprise
this comforts me, daffodils
she sent a photo of daffodils and said they came and went fast
i told her about mine, and how lucky i felt to see them this year rising up
we lost track for a bit, her and i
i was in the dumps for many days and nights
and i know that she was too and that she was crying
because i was told about a message that she left on somebody’s phone
i tried to patch things up by sending a photo of orange california poppies
those were her favorite, but our waves at the time were still choppy
she sent a black and white of a train in navarre
but acted like i didn’t care and didn’t respond
the hurt still lingers, but slightly less each day
i lost part of her to an illness along the way
but with each night that p-sses, i’m trying to make sense of it
to make peace with it, and find a way to cope
it’s sat-rday morning, late april, the view is serene
and holding onto bad feelings feels inappropriate in its glory
the water is light blue at the bottom and military tan on top
there’s a light breeze in the air as i poke my head out the window
today i feel myself healing
encomp-ssed by the beautiful green hills and the water
and looking at the photo you sent, a bouquet of daffodils

- mark kozelek sean yeaton

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