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lyrics
Pelican Hill
On Pelican Hill, I stared at the world
I saw lights, but no people—
I heard sound, but no quarrels.
I parked the car at a park off the street,
And the view of the county had me counting the cities.
God was there too, but not all too close to me
So I reached in my pocket for my mom’s wooden Rosary.
I like to believe that His voice then came down—
I’d write what He said, but I’d just put words in His mouth—
And in one sanctified second, through my sigh of the cross,
All of my sorrowful heartache was gone,
But it snapped back and tied a tight noose around my neck,
And it spun me around—made me hang my own head.
So, I stomped to the car, and I hit the ignition
While thinking of my current, failing ambitions—
I’ve now been stood up on each end of the country,
And no one has called me to say that they miss me.
On Pelican Hill, I sang to the world
the songs of my brothers who write their struggles with girls.
We’re and army of marksmen who pitifully march:
We keep aiming; keep firing; keep missing your hearts
And retreat back to places like Pelican Hill,
Where we scream up to God one more verse of our will
Until we have to leave, because our throats are too sore,
And drive home through the echoes of our scratchy, raw vocal chords.
Pelican Hill, from which I drove home
To let my spider-webbed typewriter assure me I’m still alone,
But I passed a Church and I genuflected,
And I hope I felt the soul of my dead love being resurrected—
Perching itself up on Pelican Hill
So that I might retrieve it lest I remain still
With this dissonant tension inside of my head—
Stop my whining in lyric; start my living instead.
But if I knew how to cry, O I swear that I would.
I’d make a salt water ocean comprised of my tears and blood.
On Pelican Hill, I stared at the world—
I saw myself, but no angels; I saw God, but no miracles.
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