All lyrics lovingly written and scrutinized by Elijah Wyman.
Why We Never Go Swimming
2006


Why We Never Go Swimming

In the summer of ‘56
your grandpa built that place in the sticks,
and your father tells the story
of that rope swing at the quarry.

How he tied it up
the day he fell in love.
He could climb the tallest tree.
He was the man of your mother’s dreams.

In the summer of ‘87
your brother went to heaven.
He drowned down in the quarry.
At least that was your parent’s story.

Well no one goes to that old quarry anymore
because your brother’s ghost drank it dry straight to the floor
saying, “As sure as rain, as sure as sin, as sure as we fall down
no one will die, no one will drown no not in my town.”

Up until the day we left
your father’s dreams were plagued by death.
You could hear him in the darkness crying,
humming, drinking, and lullabying.

On the day we hopped that train
your father went to the quarry again,
and he climbed himself the tallest tree
and wrapped his neck in that old rope swing.

And he was swaying.
And he was singing.
Son I’m coming,
in just one more swing.

Well the rope went taught and then it snapped. His body fell down.
Through swollen cheeks, over purple tongue, water poured out.
He said, “Son I will, I swear I’ll fill this quarry back up
because each drop you drank in death I used in life to fill my cup.”

About as sure as rain, about as sure as sin, about as sure as we fall down,
that quarry filled straight to the brim, straight from his mouth.

And he was swaying.
And he was singing.

As sure as rain will come with wind,
As sure as love will conquer sin,
son I am coming.

Dove’s Blood, Desert Sand

Dove in a tree
above David and me.
“Just Point and squeeze,”
I am whispering.

Watch her spin
towards the ground. Crimson!
But I’ve only hit her wing.
She is walking, cooing.

Here come the dogs,
those filthy dogs,
to drag her off
and tear her up.

I pick her up in my hands
and wipe her blood of in the hot desert sand.

What I Save in Flowers, I Spend in Postage.

I tried to stay awake
waiting for your call,
but when it finally came
I’d already gone to sleep.

Answering machine
had already picked up.
It was set for the third ring
which had already rung as I woke up.

Now I’m racing for the phone
but tangled in the sheets,
fell face flat on the floor,
and I’m spitefully cursing
because I’m hearing in the next room
you’re angry I forgot you.
I’ve forgotten you again.

Picked up my old pen,
and scribbled out this note.
Within a weeks time
you’ll get my envelope and then you’ll know

I was racing for the phone
but tangled in the sheets,
fell face flat on the floor,
and I’m spitefully cursing
because I’m hearing in the next room
you’re angry I forgot you.
I’ve forgotten you again.

The danger is not in anger, oh no.
But apathy will squelch the strongest love.

Everything is Black and White, Even if it’s Written in Blue Ink

It’s off to work for you my love
with a kiss good good-bye. I’ve packed you lunch.
Watch you drive down the street.
Making sure you really leave.

Then I steal back to our bed
not to sleep but to wake instead.
I lift the mattress where I sleep
next to a women who bleeds and dreams all alone.

Italian leather cover’s soft
to my fingers careful touch.
I peel it back to peek inside.
Even in blue ink you are black and white.

Later that night after you get home,
after I’ve worn you thin we’ll lie together alone.
I will betray you, and you will know what I know
about how you betrayed me because you can’t stand to be known.

(You are needed though I know you want to go.)

Crooked Smile, Weathered Scar

With all the laws I’m breaking
I’d blow right through my savings
on the tickets.

Running a red light.
Driving eighty-five
in a school zone.

Now I’m jogging down that corridor
with white washed walls and checkered floors.
I see the face that I’d adored through the doorway.
I take a step and I take a chance
to take back that girl that I’d romanced in the first place.

Then between us, there you are
with that crooked smile, weathered scar.

Orthotricyclin.
Never trust it again.
It and she forgot me.

And on the very night
we found the tests were right
you consoled her.

Now I’m jogging down that corridor
with white washed walls and checkered floors.
I see the face that I’d adored through the doorway.
I take a step and I take a chance
to take back that girl that I’d romanced in the first place.

Then between us, there you are,
with that crooked smile, weathered scar.
Then between us, there you are,
with my only child in your arms.

Girls Should Drive Automatics

Silence.
Like a high-arced shot at the buzzer.
Big city sirens
are drowned out by the suburbs.

I could tear out the stick shift
that keeps us apart, keeps our hands away,
and praise God for storm clouds
setting the mood in the month of May.

“Wait here for me,” she said
with a smile reserved for funerals.
“I do the best I can,” I replied
and tried and failed as usual.

Silence was never awkward with you
until we started to talk.
Red roses and diamond rings
could never take my savior’s love.

When your forty hours this week are through,
and there’s no one to drive you home.
And June’s skies are clear and blue
will we still be alone?

“Here comes the good part,”
she said as she laughed, “Read on as you may.”
With all the trouble I’ve had this week,
perseverance is all I’ve gained.

I could run away today.

The Life You Hide is the Life You Lose

“My dear Tom,

I met two men today. They had your picture and they knew your name. And what’s more they said you’d done some awful things. Like you said Tom, I did not say a thing.

I hate to lie. It’s true. Today I lied for you.”

“My Dear Jules,
You must understand that four walls cannot contain a man. So I have hid above the forest in the hills. Call to me from the tallest tree to signal.

And I will hear and see you high up waiting for me.”

No one had ever seen such a large blaze as they did that day.
She had climbed the tallest tree, but before she did she had lit the base,
and she cried, “You and I could never have peace again
because you know I would rather die than to live a life hidden!”
("As sure as rain, as sure as sin, you’ll never break a heart again.")

My Blood Will Cry Out to You.

You won’t feel any pain.
In the time it takes your heart to beat you’ll never beat me again.
I promise you if this trigger doesn’t stick you are through.

Far greater men have gone quite insane
waiting for the day they die with little hope and little life,
so it’s a favor to you that if this trigger doesn’t stick you are through.

You could not kill your own brother
in front of his weeping lover,
and you know it’s true that if you do my blood will cry out to you.

You may have loved her form the start
but your tongue could not keep up with your heart. I'm sorry.
A box of chocolates a dozen roses,
but when you got there I’d already been chosen.

She wears my ring, and whatever pain that brings
there is no changing her favoring. At least not this way.
Because if strong arms can shape minds
in a sorry state ourselves we find.

You won’t feel any pain.
In the time it takes your mind to think you’ll never think a thing again,
and I promise you if this trigger doesn’t stick you are through.

The Storm Outside Your Car
Wind shifts your old station wagon’s frame with every gust.
Its creaks and moans join in refrain with the storm outside your car.

Why are you here? Why have you come?

You’ve come a long way just to say, “Goodbye.”
You called me from the road. You’d been driving all night.

Well you can pack up your car and you can point it back west
because a promise is a promise and I took you as best.

Why are you here? Why have you come? Just to leave me.

BBC Outro

No lyrics, just groove. Co-written by Elijah and Kyle Jones