Pt. II

And at break of dawn, they?re sweetly shining.
Or at quiet of midnight, cold and dim, They say ?don?t harm him.?
And when I wake just as their eyes are crying,
I see that bed and I just want to climb back in.

Pt. III

But let?s gather up your friends and drive up to that country inn.
We can stay there, feeling water warmly wash across our skin,
Giving back all of our tears so that we can cry them again.

Break

Pt. I
You want to tell your dad you can?t believe he?s dying,
But let?s just walk on down the hall and shut our mouths.
The AM radio is broken down and crying
As on this hour drive we?re silent to ourselves.

Pt. II

Let?s go back up to your house, and take our clothes off.
And just push and pull ourselves until we?re deep inside of sleep.
And with your body next to me, its sleepy sighing
Sounds like waves upon a sea too far to reach.

Pt. III ( with slight differences)

But I?ll gather up my men and try to sail on it again,
And we?ll walk and quietly talk all through the country of your skin,
Made up of pieces of the places that you?ve dreamed and that you?ve been.
And we will sleep outside in tents upon this unfamiliar land,
And in the morning we?ll awake, yeah, as a foreign dawning breaks,
My men and I will all awake. Let’s try again.

Repeat Pt. III Chords through the La La La’s

He cut your strings so that he could float
– lit by lights, lifted by alcohol
– over acres of loving coast,
far away from your lonely ghost.
Now he’s cool and all,
floating anchorless. Ports of call:
where it’s fabulous, after all
of this watching himself just crawl.

Think you see him?
He’s not there,
that’s just light
that’s not yet dead.
Wait two hours
and watch what’ll be there instead.

Was he small and cold,
like a ring you call up from home,
held so tightly his limbs went numb,
worn away between your finger and thumb?
Well, now he’s bought and sold.
Cry his call number down the phone,
he can’t hear you ‘ he’s on his float,
waving down to the folks at home.

Think you see him?
He’s not there,
that’s just light
that’s not yet dead.
Wait two hours
and watch what’ll be there instead.

As the cameras love all of his faces,
they hide all the traces of you in his heart.
Stand in line to hold forth on his grace,
but you won’t even get a head-start,
Get a head start

As his close-up comes
cascading down from above,
the eyes of a nation in love
are looking on all of their hopes
held up.
And the words that some
screenwriter counted and chose,
and then set in their sequence and froze,
unfreeze on his tongue as he speaks
for all of us
but one.
And honey, he’s gone.
And baby, he’s everyone’s.
In the dark sky tonight,
cast your eyes
on the dim light
that he will become.
You’re like everyone
Who thinks they see him
He’s not there,
that’s just light
that’s not yet dead.
Wait two hours
and watch what’ll be there instead.