"Our Life Is Not a Movie or Maybe" Okkervil River

It’s just a bad movie,
where there’s no crying
Handing the keys to me
in this Red Lion
Where the lock that you locked in the suite says
there’s no prying.
When the breath that you breathed in the street screams
there’s no science.
When you look how you looked then to me,
then I cease lying
And fall into silence.

It’s just a life story,
so there’s no climax.
No more new territory,
so pull away the imax.
In the slot that you sliced through the scene
there was no shyness.
In the plot that you passed through your teeth
there was no pity.
No fade in: film begins on a kid
in the big city.
And no cut to a costly parade
(that’s for him only!)
No dissolve to a sliver of grey
(that’s his new lady!)
where she glows just like grain
on the flickering pane of some great movie.

It’s just a house burning,
but it’s not haunted.
It was your heart hurting,
but not for too long, kid.
In the socket you spin from with ease
there is no sticking.
From the speakers your fake masterpiece
comes serenely dribbling.
When the air around your chair fills with heat,
that’s the flames licking
Beneath the clock on the clean mantelpiece.
It’s got a calm clicking,
Like a pro at his editing suite takes two weeks
stitching up some bad movie.

"Our Life Is Not a Movie or Maybe" Okkervil River - mp3

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