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• Artiste: Okkervil River
• Titre: Hanging From A Hit
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What this night wants is what it gets, strung in silken knots, lit by cigarettes flaring side by side, with the streets all wet, as the only thing that's bright. And I don't need to cross that bridge. I find I'm swinging or sailing over the pit tonight. I'm hanging from a hit tonight was wild enough to order up and toss across my lips. What's making all my tears is taking all my fears away. But I don't need to cry, because now I'm clear. A moth that's swerving through the sage. A creature crashing from a cage. A shadow vaporized by a new sun ray. A day she spends the night, and I can hear her sighing as she's almost asleep on one side, and I lie back on my pillow and ask what her husband is like. And she says, "I smile polite, and I tip and tithe, and I see the sights with a well-trained eye. But I softly sigh, because I'm too much mine without him. And I lie, reclined where the room is quiet, and it's quiet at night. The soft silk is fine and the waves are white, but the wind has died without him. And I scream my smiles, and I want my wires and I need my stripes. And I read the lines until I lid my eyes, and I'm losing time without him. And I ignite inside and I flash with fire and I limp from life and I'm blazing blind and I'm surging live and give up my mind when with him. And then every dream inside turns to flames, fades to grey, and is dying. And the smoke rises into a white, blank, bare, broke-open sky."