nothing but this

[[ 

Someone regrets life and contemplates running away from the current situation, but it seems like this is not the first time the singer has run away. Always between things, always nowhere, geographically and on the radio dial: white noise, static, lightning.

And it's about escaping this desert and finding the sea, but maybe just a fantasy.

]]

nighttime's a real thing

crackles like lightning 

up all the bones of my spine

how did I ever

land in this desert

with nothing left that was mine?

between radio stations

there's nothing but static and hiss 

there's nothing but nothing but this

when you're so far between

a room in an attic

listening to static

feeling the sun coming down

I'll send a letter

out of this desert

baby please let me come home    [[ or baby please come take me home ]]

I'm going down

where the rivers run down

I'm going down 

to the sea

coming in from Canada

[[  The old story of listening to radio at night when signals were clear and noise was lower and the ether was full of nostalgia. ]]

we would lie in bed at night

secretly awake

listening to radio 

from out across the lake

listening for New York and Berlin via Brampton

listening for London from the Bank of Montreal

listening for Canada for Canada for Canada

coming in from Canada

in from out of bounds

pulled from out of northern air

world made of sound

we would run a single wire 

up above the bed

feeling for a distant tower

topped with a blinking red

listening for New York and Berlin via Brampton

listening for London from the Bank of Montreal

listening for Canada for Canada for Canada

coming in from Canada

in from out of bounds

pulled from out of northern air

world made of sound