Thursday, July 30, 2009

The Good Life - Album of the Year

These are truly some of my favorite lyrics of all time. Seriously, this song makes me die a little inside every time I hear it. I mean "die" in the most positive way, really. It is the kind of song that crushes your heart and makes you so happy that geniuses like Tim Kasher (lyricist/songwriter/singer/guitarist behind The Good Life) exist and are sharing their art. Oh, this song could play on repeat for months, and I would still find it hopelessly romantic and simultaneously tragic.

The first time that I met her
I was throwing up in the ladies room stall
She asked me if I needed anything
I said, "I think I spilled my drink"
And that's how it started
(Or so I'd like to believe)

She took me to her mother's house
Outside of town where the stars hang down
She said she'd never seen someone so lost
I said I'd never felt so found

And then I kissed her on the cheek
And so she kissed me on the mouth

The spring was popping daises up
Around rusted trucks and busted lawn chairs
We moved into a studio in Council Bluffs
To save a couple bucks
Where the mice came out at night
Neighbors were screaming all the time

We'd make love in the afternoons
To Chelsea Girls and Bachelor #2
I'd play for her some songs I wrote
She'd joke and say I'm shooting through the roof
I'd say, "They're all for you, dear
I'll write the album of the year"

And I know she loved me then
I swear to God she did
It was the way she'd bite my lower lip
And push her hips against my hips
And dig her nails so deep into my skin

The first time that I met her
I was convinced I had finally found the one
She was convinced I was under the influence
Of all those drunken romantics

I was reading Fante at the the time
I had Bukowski on my mind

She got a job at Jacob's
Serving cocktails to the local drunks
Against her will, I fit the the bill
I perched down at the end of the bar
She said, "Space is not just a place for stars
I gave you an inch, you want a house with a yard

And I know she loved me once
But those days are done
She used to call me every day
From a pay phone on her break for lunch
Just to say she can't wait to come home

The last time that I saw her
She was picking through which records were hers
Her clothes were packed in boxes
With some pots and pans and books and a toaster
Just then a mouse scurried across the floor

We started laughing until it didn't hurt

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