Okkervil River: Black

Im coming into your town. Night is falling to the ground, but I can still see where you loved yourself before he tore it all down. April 12th, with nobody else around; you were outside the house (wheres your mother?), when he put you in the car, when he took you down the road. And I can still see where it was open, the door he slammed closed. It was open, the door he slammed closed. It was open, long ago. But dont lose me now, dont lose me now. Though I know that Im not useful anyhow, just let me stick around while I tell you, like before, you should say his name the way that he said yours. But you don't want to say his name anymore. Oh, Cynda Moore. Baby daughter on the road, youre wrapped up warm in daddys coat. And I can still see the cigarettes heat. I cant believe all that you're telling me, what is cutting like the smoke through your teeth as youre telling me forget it. But if I could tear his throat, and spill his blood between my jaws, and erase his name for good, dont you know that I would? Don't you realize I wouldnt pause, that I would cut him down with my claws if I could have somehow never let that happen? Or Id call, some black midnight, fuck up his new life where they dont know what he did, tell his brand-new wife and his second kid. Though I tell you, like before, that you should wreck his life the way that he
wrecked yours, you want no
part of his life anymore. Oh Cynda Moore, dont lose me
now, let me help you out.
Though I know that I cant help you anyhow, when I watch
you Im proud. When I tell
you twice before that you
should wreck his life the way that he wrecked yours, you
want no part of his life
anymore. And itll never be
the way it was before, but I wish that you would let me
through that door. Let me
through that door, baby.