LyricMeaning

Tinderbox
The Slip

It's a sidewalk symphony/roadside suite.nIt's the trash-bag canopies on Eldert St.nIt's the blue hum broadcast through a common radionvoices...singing...hard-times...rumors(stories)of creation.nIn trusting the impersonal much sacredness is lost.nMost enlist and thus have missed the kiss extracted from the dust.nAnd I've listened since my patience begannand it glistens in the distance, standing in the footprintnwhere I found my lover lost.nnThough it makes me tremble all these thoughtsnthat I assemble fall like droplets in an ocean,nwaves surging, yet balanced like the tides.nMine is for the taking, every note that I am shakingnfalls like waves all around you.nWhat colors have you sought from the demons of the worldnnSegregated rhythms on the Bayou banks, the pearls of injusticenthe way the blacksmith pounds the heated rod,npatience, the hammer knows.nThrice you have rescued me from falling grace;nonce when I was a beggar and you were the rain on my face,nonce when I was crippled and you carried me,nand once when the blindness of others taught me how to see.nnStaring at the green that surrounds my pupils leavingnbulletholes in the glass--the glass I was trained to seenmyself in, through two-dimensional bulletholes.nI remember walking from the market to the park,nstreetlights flickered and your eyes grew dark.nPaint me a picture darling, I'll put you in it.nnIn the hands of warlords the concrete turns to prison yardsnand the corporate mind is pointing towards the capitalizingnoff ignorance, indifference, exploiting our inheritance.nLightning over the motel in Sioux Falls, South Dakota-nthe watchman checks a fuse. With his stoic black hairnand his blue/green eyes--more energy than we know how to use.nnHere it doesn't matter how many mirrors you had tonshatter on your way to get here--what colors have younbought from the demons of the world?nWider than a river and deeper still,the wounds of crueltynwill heal themselves, I know they will.nSlow changes, and gathering ourselves.


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Lyrics by The Slip

  Airplane Primitive   Before You Were Born   Children of December   Even Rats   If One of Us Should Fall   Life In Disguise   Lonely Boy   Love And Tears   Mothwing Bite   Paper Birds   Seventy-Four   Sometimes True To Nothing   Suffocation Keep   The Soft Machine   Through The Iron Gate

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