A Stone - Okkervil River

Hot breath, rough skin

Warm laughs and smiling

The loveliest words whispered and meant

You like all these things

But, though you like all these things

You love a stone.

You love a stone

Because it’s smooth

And it’s cold

And you’d love most to be told

That it’s all your own

You love white veins, you love hard grey

The heaviest weight, the clumsiest shape

The earthiest smell, the hollowest tone

You love a stone

And I’m found too fast, called too fond of flames

And then I’m phoning my friends

And then I’m shouldering the blame

While you’re picking pebbles out of the drain, miles ago

You’re out singing songs, and I’m down shouting names

At the flickerless screen, going fucking insane

Am I losing my cool, overstating my case?

Well, baby, what can I say?

You know I never claimed that I was a stone

And you love a stone

You love a stone, because it’s dark, and it’s old

And if it could start being alive you’d stop living alone

And I think I believe that, if stones could dream

They’d dream of being laid side-by-side, piece-by-piece

And turned into a castle for some towering queen

They’re unable to know

And when that queen’s daughter came of age

I think she’d be lovely and stubborn and brave

And suitors would journey from kingdoms away

Just to make themselves known

And I think that I know the bitter dismay

Of a lover who brought fresh bouquets every day

When she turned him away to remember some knave

Who once gave just one rose, one day, years ago