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Where the Circle Ends

This song is by Thursday and appears on the album Waiting (1999).

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Mountain ranges
Morning red-bathed ridges

Stab up at the trembling blue horizon
Grey slides lazily off rooftops
Lands on the incandescent ground and dies

A flock of little men touch down on the thin surface of the porchlight
Dawn's foot soldiers return
To match twilight across our faces

Skylights ignite and explode
Scattering shards of April around the room

No one even lives here
We're too busy crashing our cars every morning in the same house
Paving the same roads
Unwilling to walk them

And even when we extend ourselves
It's only to be included in a moment that stands still

So often we don't struggle to improve conditions
We struggle for the right to say
"We improved conditions"

And so often we form communities
Only to use them as exclusionary devices

And we forget that somewhere a man is beside himself with grief
And somewhere people are calling for teachers
And no one is answering

Somewhere a man stands
Walks across the room and breaks his nose against the door

And somewhere these people are keeping records
And writing a book

For now we can call it "The book about the basic flaw"
Or "The book about the letter A"
Or any title that a book about a man that no one cares about might have

And as we turn the pages we call out the sounds of nothing
Sounds of a vanishing alphabet
Standing here, waiting...


Lyrics by:

Geoff Rickly.

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