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lyrics

1.
I read an old philosopher
who writes about a man,
who inebriated as a youth
was led into a brothel.

Who as a man, upon the shore,
on country roads, and in the city,
watches little faces
looking for a sign.

He’s waiting for an indication,
something in the jaw or eyes,
something that could settle it
and put an end to his ceaseless speculation.

He is afraid that
having known that
fatal, painted woman,
unawares, he might have
fathered a child.

CHORUS
Reality is not the terror
possibility is (x 3).
That’s why everything is slipping away.

2.
Like a scar that comes and goes,
like an echo ‘cross the water,
like a ghost that’s never visible,
this could be, or not be.

But he seizes the impression,
he sustains it through the night.
Must be getting sicker—
what was maybe feels like certainly.

He’s thinking back
and he is looking in the mirror
and he makes their inky images
on every surface that he can.

He sees his lover’s features,
he makes the choice:
I am a father.
I made the mother;
I abandoned the child

CHORUS

3.
If you do not get it,
then get this.
Picture this:
you are alone without a boat
over seventy-thousand
cold, cold fathoms.

And if you do not like
this morbid story,
remember this:
you are alone without a boat
over seventy-thousand
cold, cold fathoms of water.
Unawares you might have
fathered a child

CHORUS

credits

from An Eighth of a Bottle of Something Sticky Green, released July 11, 2018

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about

Cameron M. Thomson image

Cameron M. Thomson Toronto, Ontario

Cameron Thomson is a Toronto-based moral philosopher, musician, and writer. When he’s not writing or making music, he may be found on the beach, searching for beach-glass and other treasure, or in the woods, digging for historical glass in former dumpsites. Visit him on Instagram at @cameron_m_thomson. ... more

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