Once upon a time, Owen Pallett posted the lyrics he scrapped from Heartland. This is simply for preservation!
When you were young, you kept a box of writing by your bed You wrote a one-act play Politics are hidden in The way you treat the people on the payroll Singing to a stranger 'bout the Left Never put food on his table Father was a poet, well-paid He goes unmentioned in the lectures Paid by the State to keep his mouth shut His influence is left to conjecture Like Bob Dylan's Like Bob Dylan's Like Bob Dylan's ghost-writer Man is bad and man is a burden But so stackable! Arrow in the side, what's a boy a to do? Hear the hero's anguished cry What. Is a boy. To. Do? I fell in love with the piano teacher's daughter And her brusque interpretation of Schumann Listening to Aufschwung til my lesson began Listening to Aufschwung til my lesson began My fingers linked to make a step We hopped the gate and crossed ourselves I stumbled on a marker and he Picked me up and dusted off He drove me forward with a light touch in the small of my back He knows when to touch me in public Faith sets the day afire Faith sets the day afire Get a bucket of water Hey, Catalano. Don't talk to that guy with the notebook. A man beckons me out the window. Didn't we once have a cat? Give me your hand I'm an excellent sherpa. How do I feel? You don't want to know. I want you to know, but I don't want to tell you. I'm closing my eyes and sending you vibes: "A man says 'No', but he means 'Get lost." Can you give me a leg up? Get lost. Flickering like an oil lamp, a stranger at the foot of the bed. The colour of space, the colour of dread, oh. The Malcolm I remember Would never leave a woman to drown. An elegant bachelor, a servant to the crown. Just a small glance as you wrapped up my pork pie. But I knew you glimpsed it within me: my heavy heart. The son of a piano met the daughter of a contrabassoon. The bitch is hungry And hunger's a hell of a drug. How often do you shave? Once a day? Twice a week? Not a fan of the high life. But you'll never see me working the soil. Some of my best friends are trust funds And some are worse than others They get down, so down, cause the press can be cruel Then, an endless duel Between the Self and the Other "I am rather overrated," "My statement will be seen as seminal." Meanwhile, some of my friends are single mothers Did you see the face of the water-carrier? I had her in the night. She warmed the water and squeezed the sponge over She is ten years older. Your money's no good here Your materials will never prevail Our hero is hardened And steeped in the salt of the earth A hist'ry of prophetry's a history of low birth The man is depressed He was flayed in the weekly press Oh graduates, graduates Sweat is running down my back To the crack of my arse I terraform my arse I terraform my arse Nature is a con-woman, nature is a fraud Nature took me by the hand and showed me pretty things The river won't refuse a man, The ocean won't say no. Oscillate, I oscillate, and frequency increase The river is a talker and the woods are alive, The crew and I don't entirely understand each other. And I'm too preoccupied to have a drink with them. Thanksgiving begins with flint and tinder. There are some mornings I wish I was Oe. Trying to teach the salmon How to swim the other way. These statements are dainty. They say, "I love to pussyfoot, I won't look you in the eye." Here is the thrust of it: I will seek out my own satisfaction. Laid in the rowboat Started to shiver The shirt unbuttons Off comes the bandage The tendons tender But I can manage Over the ocean, our things will travel. Maximalism Is your distortion Layer upon layer Of self-absorption Nice head of hair on those legs. You've a good head for figures. All at once, That expression is familiar. I saw it on the face of... Well, you got a familiar face. Here, let me set up the stage. I'd brought about the downfall of many a demi-mage. I killed innocents, too.
