It Ends With A Fall - Okkervil River

Wish I could remember
why it mattered to me.
It doesn’t matter to me.
It doesn’t matter to me
anymore.
Now that you’re
feeling fine,
I’ll admit that – though

I know it’s coming down,
and see it shattering me
- it doesn’t matter to me,
and I’m not sadder for
seeing it come.
I’m not going to run.
I will just come
when I am called.

You want to cut me off
because I took too much,
but don’t leave me alone
Take off your scarves,
your winter coat.
The night’s too cold.

When we met I should have said
you’re like a sister to me,
how all that kiss her just seem
like puny suitors I can see through,
how none will do,
no not for you,
how it might as well just be us two.

And when I pulled you by the jacket
from the clattering street,
you started flattering me,
you started saying I was so strong.
String me along,
but I can’t become
all that I’m called.

And I can’t claim to know
what makes love die or grow,
but I can still take control
and so refuse to just go home,
back down the hall.

And as I crawl,
as finally all
the false confetti blooms
up in this attic room,
I’m going make my stand.
I want to see both of your hands
put down the phone.

I won’t let you go,
although
the moment stole
my self-control
from us all
and now it can only end
end with a fall.

The President's Dead - Okkervil River

The president's dead, the radio said,
Dear friends, is it not so horrible?
A shot through my heart, like a knife right through bread,
The newspaper said the president's dead.

The sea doesn't dry and the sky doesn't split,
But friends it just seems so wrong, don't it?
A shot from the crowd, and a shot in the head,
The president's lying on the tarmac dead.

He's lying face down with his black-dressed agents
Guns drawn running around and the early Obit's
Say he was a good man, you can't argue with that
Not today you can't, not now you can't.

In the media tent where they spin and they slant,
They just foam the mouth and they chant at the bit,
Those bloodsuckers can wait until those vulture's cool in,
The newscaster said, "The President's dead."

Let's imagine the way, let's say 30 years in,
How somebody will say, "What you were doing when...?"
On a beautiful day, I was waking up and
I was lying in bed with my girlfriend
And the eggs on the plate, and the bacon hissin'
And the coffee was great, there was spring on the wind.

If you don't live through a day for the littlest things,
And the littlest ways made you feel you were blessed
If you died right then, well you know you'd be missed,
But there's no better state to cease to exist
And you wouldn't feel sad, and you wouldn't resist
Cause you knew what you had, and were thankful for it

In your own little way, I'm a small quiet man
I've got no wars to win, I don't have a big plan
But I love my new place, and I love my old friends
And I scrimp and save, and one day I'll have kids.

I can truthfully say that my day was like that,
'Til the radio playing on the stand by the bed
Fired out this report and in 3 words they said,
Like 3 shots to my head,
The President's Dead.

For Real - Okkervil River

Some nights I thirst for real blood, for real knives, for real cries. And then the flash of steel from real guns in real life really fills my mind. Then I really miss what really did exist when I held your throat so tight. And I miss the bus as it swerved from us and almost came crashing to its side. Sometimes the blood from real cuts feels real nice when it's really mine. And if you want it to be real, come over for a night, we can really, really climb, and those blue bridge lights might really burn most bright while we watch that dark lake rise. And if you really want to see what really matters most to me, we can just take a real short drive. Just a drive into the dark stretch, long stretch of night, will really stretch this shaking mind. And this room, unlit, unheated, and the ceiling striped, and the dark black blinds.... I want to know this time if you’re really finally mine. I need to know that you're not lying, and so I want to see you tried. And I don't want to hear you say it shouldn’t really be this way, because I like this way just fine. And there’s nothing quite like the blinding light when that curtain’s cast aside, and no attempt is made to explain away the things that really, really, really are b