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Alien to this World

April 21, 2006

Subterranean Homesick Alien

The breath of the morning
I keep forgetting.
The smell of the warm summer air.

I live in a town
where you can’t smell a thing,
you watch your feet
for cracks in the pavement.

Up above
aliens hover
making home movies
for the folks back home,

of all these weird creatures
who lock up their spirits,
drill holes in themselves
and live for their secrets.

They’re all uptight, uptight,
uptight, uptight,
uptight, uptight.

I wish that they’d sweep down in a country lane,
late at night when I’m driving.
Take me on board their beautiful ship,
show me the world as I’d love to see it.

I’d tell all my friends but they’d never believe me,
They’d think that I’d finally lost it completely.
I’d show them the stars and the meaning of life.
They’d shut me away.
But I’d be alright, alright,
I’d be alright,
I’m alright.

I’m just uptight, uptight,
uptight, uptight,
uptight, uptight,
uptight, uptight,
uptight.

Working tonight and listening to some Radiohead, I particularly related to these lyrics. Here on Earth, I am an alien. This is not my home; I am merely passing through. I can say all that I can say, but some people will continue to “shut me away.” Moral truth, absolute truth–they’d say “I’m just uptight.” But “I’d be alright, I’m alright.”

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