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Bright Eyes » The City has Sex
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The city has sex with itself, I suppose As the concrete collides, the scenery grows And the lonely once bandaged lay fully exposed Having undressed their wounds for each other And there is a boy in a basement with a four track machine He’s been strumming and screaming all night, down there The tape hiss will cover the words that he sings But then they say it’s better to bury your sadness In a graveyard or garden that waits for the spring To awake from it's sleep and burst into green And I’ve cried and you would think I would better for it But the sadness just sleeps and it stays in your spine For the rest of your life And I’ve learned and you’d think I’d be something more now But it just goes to show it is not what you know It's what you were thinking at the time. This feeling’s familiar, I’ve been here before In a kitchen this quiet I waited for a sign or just something That might reassure me of anything close to meaning or motion (With a reason to move) I need something I want to be close to And I scream, but I still don’t know why I do it Because the sound never stays, it just swells and decays So what is the point? Why try to fight what is now so certain? The truth is all that I am is a passing event that will be forgotten
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