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Bright Eyes ~ Haligh, Haligh, A Lie, Haligh


The phone slips from a loose grip. Words were missed then some apology like I didn't want to tell you this it's just some guys she has been hanging out with oh I don't know the past couple of weeks I guess. Thank you and hang up the phone. Let the funeral start. Hear the casket close. Let's pin split-black ribbon onto your overcoat. Still laughter pours from under doors in this house. I don't understand that sound no more. It seems artificial like a T.V. set. Haligh, Haligh, Haligh, Haligh this weight it must be satisfied. You offer only one reply. You know not what you do. But you tear and tear your hair from roots. From that same head you have twice removed a lock of hair you said would prove our love would never die. Well ha ha ha. But I remember everything the words we spoke on freezing South street. And all those morning watching you get ready for school. You combed your hair inside that mirror. The one you painted blue and glued with jewelry tears. Something about those bright colors always made you feel better. So now we speak with ruined tongues and the words we say aren't' meant for anyone. It's just a mumbled sentence to a passing acquaintance, but there was once you said you hated my suffering and you understood and you'd take care of me. You would always be there, well where are you now? Haligh, Haligh, Haligh, Haligh, the plans were never finalized but left to hang like yarn and twice dangling before my eyes. As you tear and tear your hair from roots, from that same head that you have twice removed a lock of hair you said would prove that our love would never die. As I sing and sing of awful things, the pleasure that my sadness brings as my fingers press onto the strings you get another clumsy chord. Haligh, Haligh, an awful lie. This weight will now be satisfied. I will give you only one reply, I know not who I am but I talk in the mirror to the stranger that appears. Our conversations are circles and always one sided, nothing is clear. Except we keep coming back to this meaning that I lack. He says the choices were given and now I must live them or just not live, but do you want that? more free lyrics

The phone slips from a loose grip. Words were missed then some apology like I didn't want to
tell you this it's just some guys she has been hanging out with oh I don't know the past couple
of weeks I guess. Thank you and hang up the phone. Let the funeral start. Hear the casket
close. Let's pin split-black ribbon onto your overcoat. Still laughter pours from under doors in this
house. I don't understand that sound no more. It seems artificial like a T.V. set. Haligh, Haligh,
Haligh, Haligh this weight it must be satisfied. You offer only one reply. You know not what you
do. But you tear and tear your hair from roots. From that same head you have twice removed a
lock of hair you said would prove our love would never die. Well ha ha ha. But I remember
everything the words we spoke on freezing South street. And all those morning watching you
get ready for school. You combed your hair inside that mirror. The one you painted blue and
glued with jewelry tears. Something about those bright colors always made you feel better. So
now we speak with ruined tongues and the words we say aren't' meant for anyone. It's just a
mumbled sentence to a passing acquaintance, but there was once you said you hated my
suffering and you understood and you'd take care of me. You would always be there, well where
are you now? Haligh, Haligh, Haligh, Haligh, the plans were never finalized but left to hang like
yarn and twice dangling before my eyes. As you tear and tear your hair from roots, from that
same head that you have twice removed a lock of hair you said would prove that our love would
never die. As I sing and sing of awful things, the pleasure that my sadness brings as my fingers
press onto the strings you get another clumsy chord. Haligh, Haligh, an awful lie. This weight will
now be satisfied. I will give you only one reply, I know not who I am but I talk in the mirror to the
stranger that appears. Our conversations are circles and always one sided, nothing is clear.
Except we keep coming back to this meaning that I lack. He says the choices were given and
now I must live them or just not live, but do you want that?

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When the lights dim and the first note is played, strangers become synchronized. The tremor when thousands sing together, and the melody that still echoes after the crowd disperses - this is an experience that no screen can convey. We look forward to the return of large-scale concerts to the essence of music, and we also look forward to small livehouses continuing to nourish the most vibrant soil of music.

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