Dive Shrine from Birthmarks by Bambara
Tracklist
| 8. | Dive Shrine | 3:04 |
Lyrics
He sits slumped on the barstool. Lips twitch as he fights to hold a grin. Aiming sighs at designs on the bottles. The owner’s dogs, when they whine, kind of look like him. But when old thoughts arise, he’s the happiest hound drooling on the bar. Howling divine from the bathroom line while pinballs trigger visions of dead stars.
Says he’ll stowaway to Rome. Itching to smash a holy skull.
While back, his girl picked out his casket—high sheen, shellacked, jet black, and cheap.
She said, “I like that it reminds me of his jacket. Hate to think he’s cold in the earth so deep.” Now, he shivers alone when he’s home. Haunts the bar for some company. Says, “Let’s leave these fiends to tweak freely in the shadows. My roof’s got a view of the neighbor’s new TV.”
His face looks like a painting in the disco light. He’s treated like a stranger though he’s here each night. A lotus slowly opens in a bowl near his seat. He wishes he could smell it, but his nose always seems to bleed.
Says, “This place is kind of a memorial site for a sprouting love whose bud was cut. I’d sign the lease, tend the needs of this dive-shrine, to keep its relics from the jaws of the garbage truck. ‘Cause it’s getting hard to protect, you see. Time untwines all ties to memory. And people rarely come to pay their respects or sing some Pasty Cline over a backing beat. Soon I’ll find a room in the city. Leave my things for the weeds, ‘cause all I’ll need’s a radiator and some space to breathe. A place to get some sleep and outlive my dreams.”
