Our Life

it’s just a bad movie, where there’s no crying

handing the key to me in this red lion

where the lock that you locked

in the suite says there’s no prying

when the breath that you breathed

in the street screams there’s no science

when you look how you looked then to me

then i cease lying and fall into silence

Is Not A Movie

it’s just a life story, so there’s no climax

no more new territory, so pull away the imax

in the slot that you sliced

through the scene there was no shyness

in the plot that you passed

through your teeth there was no pity

no fade in: film begins on a kid in the big city

and no cut to a costly parade (that’s for him only!)

no dissolve to a sliver of grey (that’s his new lady!)

where she glows just like grain

on the flickering pane of some great movie

Or Maybe

it’s just a house burning, but it’s not haunted

it was your heart hurting, but not for long, kid

in the socket you spin from with ease there is no sticking

from the speakers your fake masterpiece is serenely dribbling

when the air around your chair fills with heat

that’s the flames licking

beneath the clock on the clean mantelpiece

it’s got a calm clicking

like a pro at his editing suite takes

two weeks stitching up some bad movie

Okkervil River