Have you ever read that story about the man who is about to be hanged, and he falls into the river below the bridge they're hanging him on, and he's barraged by illusions, and at the end it turns out he's actually dead, back at the bridge?
lyrics
I don't know which way I'm facing
Squeezing, Twisting Downward
I have tried to will myself
Closer to my natural form
I couldn't hear what you were saying
but it sounded like "they're out to get you"
I've never been so terrified
of people with no intent to harm me
But I can see for the first time
Strawberry, Blueberry, Dear Mrs. Blank:
I'm sorry to hear of your husband's passing
I could see that you were playing
but I couldn't make out much of what game
I have found a comfort here
in the bed I feared would devour me
I forgot what I was doing
I've forgotten even more,
but I feel the words you're sending to me
I feel the space I create in the floor
next to myself, when I lay down
and the world seems very comforting
but it's fleeting, and it's laced with fear
and I'm not sure I can admit the lot to you.
But I can see for the first time
Strawberry, Blueberry, Dear Mrs. Blank:
I'm sorry to hear of your husband's passing
I really, really, really dislike tribute records. This is the only album that has ever challenged my opinion of the medium. Sufjan's songwriting is apparently a canvas that anyone can paint on. Pet Giant
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