Bedhead - What Fun Life Was (2005) by Bedhead (보컬) on maniadb.com

the bed at night is a life raft in the ocean of the dark. i hang my hands over the sides, pray to god knows what.

drifting somewhere in the black air, feeling only the blanket and the weight of the mattress. the mistress of the sheets.

too many successive nights of being miserable
give one the sense to sense the invisible. i know you're in this room but the air is too thick.

the bed at night is a life boat, a throne off which you can't be thrown. i hang my hands and feet over the sides and go into the space of what can never be known.

you want to talk about things you won't understand? then give me your ears. put them in my hands. give me your hands. put them over my ears so i don't have to hear a thing i say
if it makes me think.

i can't talk about things i don't understand so i leave it here in empty hands and i leave off the ink so i don't have to think or sink that low ever again.

because my memory of what's good is leaving me. i knew it would.

that part of me makes no sense.
that part of me is my conscience.

you cut your head on the bedside table.
your temple bled as you were unable to remember
the lines of what you were reading
about someone deciding to quit speaking.

what i was just reading
about someone deciding to quit speaking
began to dissolve into my lap
as the words gave up their attempts at meaning.

To be crushed is not to be
hit and then left to recover
it's to be left untouched
unable to pass from one place to another


To be crushed is not to be
held down by some minor influence
it's to be left alone
with nothing to understand
...

To be drowning is not to be
suffered as some cruel fate
it should be taken as a blessing
maybe even a gift from god


But I've never seen him give anything away
and I've never known him to have anything to say
which is why I've never felt any real need to pray

i told myself to relax and dipped my fingers in hot candle wax. then i rolled the wax into a ball
over an inch wide but one inch tall. it was lopsided like the earth, or my head right after birth. so i flattened the ball into pancake and thought of better things that i might make. everytime god makes a fist, he thinks of better things he's missed and how he has messed up. the earth is flat or so i made it. even though the world prevents it. so everybody, run to the ends and jump off. it's safe. we've made space bend like wax. just float and relax.

What was once so real
now doesn't even exist
and now the memories are going
so just the feelings persist


And what thoughts come back
I sometimes try to resist
the last of your strength fell apart first
in your fist


And I had no idea
I had any ideas
sometimes I think
I've never thought about anything
...

It was warm when you held me
when you dropped down beside me
but I saw your face turn to powder
in a year


And did it do any good
to have anyone tell you
that things weren't as bad
as they had actually become


And did it make things worse
when you hand was held
it was the best for everyone
but you

floating up to the hole in the sky, to the casual wink of uranus's wandering eye. i looked down somewhere over europe and let down a rope with zeus on my side. kypress was pointing her bony finger at the hole she'd make in turkey's belly. kithira could hear nothing else but the noise of laconia's engulfing war yell. is she tartarean again today with her aphrodisiac the tarantella sway. in anagogical vision i am what i see. in anaclitical remission there's nothing more to be. and i hit a wall with all i had. a start even with the first kiss
it ended in a scream of pain. i broke every bone in the red fist. so i face it. she makes the world spin. she makes all of us somehow kin. and makes everything the same as it's always been. so i've let down my rope to reel anyone in. and uranus's scrotum's a totem pole in the middle of washington state. it tells the story of what went down in our house. it tells the story of our lust-driven, bearded, beautiful fate.

The dying roaches lying upside down
send messages to their families
their antennae tap the floor
like the top few hairs on a father's head
blowing in a cold wind
I'm not coming home tonight
or any other night they send
as they rest stuck on their backs
...

Running through the memories of their lives they wait
ignoring the sound of other little feet
crawling to feed off of their helpless decaying bodies
they ask for forgiveness
as their legs are spread apart
as their bellies are chewed open
as the blood leaves their heads
their final words are spoken

your living will harden as there's more time to kill each cell. each day that you dwell on a sense of life that threatens response will little regard
on a sense of pain against which god is no guard.
and I pray for you as you asked me to, but still I wonder what good it will do. I pray for you as you told me to, even though I know it does.
no good will come from this.
no thought could ever defend a body that lies in conscious decay.
if I could sign my name with the fluid that comes from my bones,
if I could sign over half of myself,
I'd do it for you.
you'd never ask me to, but still I'd wonder what good it would do.
I'd do it for you
as you told me not to.
even thought I know it does no good for your living will, no good for living well.
'cause your god for your living will is no good for living well.

wind. the wind
begin to ascend.
reach for anything,
as the air has no end.

but soon, you'll wind
down through the air
with only the cold, hard ground
meeting you there.

feel the soil
running through your nose.
it's a wound down music box
that doesn't know how it goes.

it's a simple memory
that falls apart as it grows.
it's a simple memory
that falls apart as it grows.

now that picture is cracked
and the color is gone.
and the last thing I remember
I can no longer see.
there's a tree that grows into
a tree that collapses.
but from there, it goes off
into the scenery.