Diluvia from Lake Victoria by The Sweet Clementines

Would you want to be known to yourself
after the last of the light leaves your body?
Don’t know that you should: one leg is longer. Your liver’s on fire.
You’re so long at war with the dreams of your father (you wrote them all down).

Why would you choose to be known to yourself
after diluvia comes to remove you?
The waters take everything, came for the very thing
closest at hand, the quick from the man.
A memory can hardly such mercy withstand.

John had a dream or two he might not have shared with you
but nobody noticed the oath that he wrote in the sand.
John was a hypocrite. He said one thing, another did,
but no one was harmed, at least not very bad.
John used to educate. Now he’s in real estate,
emptied of offices. Lost his command.
No one remembers the shape of the man.
And some scribbled Greek at the edge of the beach
is all that remains of his hand.

Would you want to be always yourself or door number two?
Ocean to land, shingle and sand.
Spun into glass, breaks on the strand.
A memory can hardly such violence withstand.

No one remembers the shape of the man.
And some scribbled Greek at the edge of the beach
is all that remains of his hand.

• Rock
• art rock
• guitar pop
• indie rock
• smart
• spy
• New Paltz