Without Mythologies

The Weakerthans

A soft breeze with slippery concrete black

And full of muddy slush

Contrasting with the hoarfrost, clean and hung

On a tunnel of silent shivering trees

The ones you said you'd like to be

And the birds that screamed at the sun

Now buried deep down below the ground

Beneath the snow

I press my shoulder to this wall between us

I know you are behind me

And I press my shoulder to this wall

Determined not to turn around

I didn't see you standing

Still that statue that I molded in my mind to kiss

So beautiful, you'll never move again

Someplace far away, some sad table littered

With chipped plates, with bad light

In 48 frames from a movie on the cutting room floor

You've said, "True meaning would be dying with you"

And though I wanted to, I did not smile

But now I will give up on this wall that I have fought with

Never uncover meaning behind our rich words

If I could, I would make you a raging river

With angry rapids, supplied with rain

So you could always meander

And forever be able to run away

Without contending with myths, wrongly interpreted

With pain, a harsh wind

A harsh wind