Things Gone and Things Still Here Lyrics – Juno (band)
Singer: Juno (band)
Title: Things Gone and Things Still Here
The writing between us was beautiful
Some of it is sad, but all of it is always useful, and always funny
Even the angry ankle biting bits
It’d be a shame to lose it all in some fit of rationale
One day you may be glad we chose to keep these letters
They do a better job of telling what was going on in our life than the songs or photographs
But if you want to put them in the trash, then I can’t tell you not to
You could always save them in a file or some place
I {?} around the globe for the next 40 years, occasionally retrieving them for posterity
A wiser, more just future self
Scrutinizing the contents that are in
With a keen mind, dry eyes, and steady hands
You can play
Remember when we were young?
Perhaps shaking your head only in pity further for who we were when we were the people we all had
Your heart long since given up
But maybe not
Maybe I’ll read the letters and your heart relays withdraw for having known those times
This place
And those terrible, wonderful people
You’ll look back in your 70s and perhaps feel stronger, more contented in your quieter years for having suffered this time
The love and frustration, the odd stupidity written on the pages, the correspondents hidden in the lines of your hands, and in the creases of your face
Your blood will boil a volatile mixture of sex and sentimental yearnings
The thin invisible hairs in your arms will sing a subatomic song
A subatomic song
And in the distance {?}, the Mediterranean cruise ship around serves tea and biscuits at midday
You’ll say to yourself, in that funny sort of parrot-like voice you do so fantastically, “Ahh, ooo, I like tea and biscuits with {?}, yeah, I’m gonna get me some”
Go 73 you will scoop yourself up with ease and grace in a fluent motion
For even in your old age you will have such magnificent pores and stable connective tissue
The letters will be left to fend for themselves, vibrating with the air
Your song, George, who will be in his early 40s by this time, will happen by
Recognizing the scraps of the tickly blanket his mother has clutched since she was a little girl
He will sit there under the dead chair next to yours
He will spy the letters lanyard in tied a heap, humming on top of the crumby file folder in the breeze
And having had secret service training, coupled with his mothers finest investigative genes, he would be naturally inclined to sneak
He’ll read the letters quickly and quietly, smartly having a good sense to keep a look out for anyone that might come upon him, especially his mom
As he reads, a snake of electricity will wrap itself around his spine, and slowly uncoiling itself out across every lane, through each perfect passageway, chamber and pore that his mother gave him
He will look at the dates of the correspondents and his mind will reel, doing the math of your life time
Putting faces to names, and names to places
His guard will come down, no longer able to keep watch over the ship’s passengers
On his fingers he will do a quick bit of age mapping
Again, putting faces to names and names to places
A few things very succinctly will become clear to him
Like a squirrel foraging for nuts, you will return to your dead chair, napkin in hand, jam on your fingers, crumbs on the upper lip, the teeth and gums toying with the goo that was once a biscuit
{?} said that the letters will feel like an icicle piercing your heart
Your eyes will quite literally bulge from their sockets, more so than they generally do
Despite your instinct to grab the tickly and run, you will rather quite suddenly compose yourself
You will sit down adjacent, and you will not look at him in the face for many moments
Instead you will continue to nibble at your biscuits, while periodically pursing your lips and testing the symmetry of your jawline
You keep your eyes downward, and your head slightly cocked sideways, as though you were a sheepish 4 year old gazing at the sun from behind an anthill
You take a deep breath and leave a {?} to the {?} as you sort of fidget in your chair
George will gaze upon you in dismay, feeling such happiness and confusion that he cannot bring himself to speak
In fact, he’ll not ever another sound for the next 7 years
In this moment, a weight will lift from you
A weight so great it cannot be measured or defined
It covers your eyes {?} in waves, in levels, in firms
The sum greater than all the parts you ever played, all the {?} and bonnets you ever tamed, more numerous than all the cells you never lost along the way, and more terrifying in it’s beauty than any imaginable act
The sum that is more than you, the divine darkness, the vibration of naked light over true meaning
All this will lift
It will collapse and rise like ashes in a barely visible aura around your entire body
It will flutter in the newly open space within you like a feather down, swirling from a goose upon takeoff
Later that evening, you will die with a smile on your face and love for all things, all people, all places and passings of time through your heart
Most of all, love for your son, because despite the odds, he was kind, good, and smart
The universe will reveal itself to you in your final tangible moments, willfully becoming a thread in the tapestry of all existence
And look at this way, at the very least, you’ll never have to pay rent again
You suddenly feel no sorrow at your passing, only respect, only calm
And I wish I would’ve been there to see it, but no
By this time I would’ve been so many years gone
So yes, do what you like with our letters, if they are lovely and funny, then keep them, and if they are a burden to you, then destroy them
All in love, and all in memory of the women we will one day be, my friend
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Lyrics Juno (band) – Things Gone and Things Still Here
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