Interpret:

Bright Eyes

Album:

Letting Off The Happiness

the city has sex with itself i suppose 
as the concrete collides, the scenery grows 
and the lonely once bandaged lay fully exposed 
having undressed their wounds for each other 
and there is a boy in a basement with a four track machine 
he's been strumming and screaming all night, down there 
the tape hiss will cover the words that he sings 
but then they say it's better to bury your sadness 
in a graveyard or garden that waits for the spring to awake from its sleep 
and burst into green 
and i've cried and you would think i would better for it 
but the sadness just sleeps and it stays in your spine 
for the rest of my life 
and i've learned and you'd think i'd be something more now, 
but it just goes to show it is not what you know 
its what you were thinking at the time. 
this feeling's familiar, i've been here before 
in a kitchen this quiet i waited for a sign or just something 
that might reassure me of anything close to meaning or motion 
(with a reason to move) 
i need something i want to be close to 
and i scream, but i still don't know why i do it 
because the sound never stays it just swells and decays 
so what is the point? 
why try to fight what is now so certain? 
the truth is all that i am is a passing event that will be forgotten.