Okkervil River
180426271.gif

What gives this mess some grace unless it's kicks, man
Unless it's fiction
Unless it's sweat or it's songs

What hits against this chest unless it's a sick man's hand
From some midlevel band
He's been driving too long

On a dark windless night
With the stereo on
With the towns flying by
And the ground getting soft

And the sound in the sky
Coming down from above
It surrounds you and sighs
And it's whispering, oh

What pulls your body down, that is quicksand
So, we climb out quick, hand over hand
For your mouth's all filled up

What picks you up from down unless it's tricks, man
When I been fixed, I am convinced that I will not get so broke up again

And on a seven day high
That heavenly song
Punches right through my mind
And pumps through my blood

And, oh, it's a lie
But I still give my love
And my heart's all alive
For your hands to pluck off

What gives this mess some grace unless it's fictions
Unless it's licks, man
Unless it's lies or it's love

What breaks this heart the most is the ghost of some rock and roll fan
Exploding up from the stands
With her heart opened up

And I want to tell her, "your love isn't lost"
Say, "my heart is still crossed"
Scream, "you're so wonderful"
What a dream in the dark

About working so hard
About growing so stoned
Trying not to turn up
Trying not to believe in the light, on your own

La la la la
Ohhh oh ohh


Mirror lyrics:

Ohhh oh ohh
La la la la

Trying not to believe in the light, on your own
Trying not to turn up
About growing so stoned
About working so hard

What a dream in the dark
Scream, "you're so wonderful"
Say, "my heart is still crossed"
And I want to tell her, "your love isn't lost"

With her heart opened up
Exploding up from the stands
What breaks this heart the most is the ghost of some rock and roll fan

Unless it's lies or it's love
Unless it's licks, man
What gives this mess some grace unless it's fictions

For your hands to pluck off
And my heart's all alive
But I still give my love
And, oh, it's a lie

And pumps through my blood
Punches right through my mind
That heavenly song
And on a seven day high

When I been fixed, I am convinced that I will not get so broke up again
What picks you up from down unless it's tricks, man

For your mouth's all filled up
So, we climb out quick, hand over hand
What pulls your body down, that is quicksand

And it's whispering, oh
It surrounds you and sighs
Coming down from above
And the sound in the sky

And the ground getting soft
With the towns flying by
With the stereo on
On a dark windless night

He's been driving too long
From some midlevel band
What hits against this chest unless it's a sick man's hand

Unless it's sweat or it's songs
Unless it's fiction
What gives this mess some grace unless it's kicks, man


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