“The Killer”

i know i’m not supposed to say this-
not at this point-
but i miss you

tonight-
i miss you

when i was seventeen i had a fantasy that i would know everyone in the world
i wanted to be the king
i would travel the country-
then abroad-
putting names to the faces that i passed
and offering mine in return-
trading names like promises-
secrets spread wide
to decrease their power

i got names now-
names i picked up without thinking-
secrets i’d give back-
secrets i’d give to you-

i got names now-
and i got a couple dollars in my wallet
i got conversation to pass the time
and i got a tendency to be too obvious around girls when i get lonely
i got this mean ringing in my ears from that night when the music was so loud that for a second it almost drowned out the noise in my head
i got snapshots in my mind’s eye of what a girl in new orleans looks like without her dress on
i got all the meaningful glances i can exchange with people who see right through me
i got this righteous energy sending me out the door
and i got a feeling i could go forever-
and all i want from you is a reason not to do it

i can tell you secrets and i can tell you the names i learned one day when i walked around for a few hours through vermont city streets
thinking about what those streets would look like if i were a native to those parts-
thinking about what the conversations that surrounded me would sound like if i didn’t speak english-

i replaced the fantasy i had when i was seventeen
with one about building a cabin in the woods-
i’d teach myself how to cook and maybe how to fire a bow-

i spent a couple hundred miles
tripping on that fantasy
as i wound my way through the mountains of upstate new york

i spent a couple hundred miles
with bob dylan on my headphones
singing about a girl from the north country-

i didn’t fall in love with a girl from the north country-
but i wanted to
more than anything-
i wanted to

in a new york state of mind-
i wanted to forget your name

in skinhead bars-
i wanted to forget your name

in suburban shopping malls-
on empty highways after midnight-
in philadelphia ghettos-
in fantasies-
between the thighs of every name i wished i knew-

i wanted to forget your name

i wanted to sleep with that girl in new orleans
so i’d have a secret to regret
instead i looked down the shirt of a sixteen year old girl
as she leafed through a book of poems i gave her

i wanted to be the killer
and i wanted to be the king

i wanted to find a part of america that no one had ever been to-
a part of america without names to haunt it-
to see if starting fresh
could beat the secrets back underground

i don’t know if there’s a place like that left in america
and i’m not sure just how far i’d go
before i wanted to turn back around

so i walked memphis streets searching for the ghost of elvis
and i wanted to find it-
i wanted to find him-
so i could ask him what to do

i didn’t find the king down by graceland-
he don’t live there anymore-
but jerry lee lewis stumbled down the street with a bottle of bourbon in one hand and a revolver in the other
and the killer told me to put your memory to rest

i crossed the wolf river instead on the way out of town
and darling-
let me tell you-
your undertow almost dragged me right on down

i resurfaced on the nashville highway
coming up for air
thinking about the peace of mind that i might find
if i made my way to canada

i caught my breath with a heavy heart
and called for a vote of no confidence
in kings and killers-
in ghosts and legends-
in promises and secrets-
in names i wished i didn’t have-

i wanted to start fresh-
i wanted to spend months in a room with you down in texas-
taking confidence in only the few absolutes that would provide-
i wanted you to give me a reason not to see san francisco in september-

there’s a girl in milwaukee who calls me late at night
and sometimes when we’re sad we trade secrets-

i’m tired of secrets-
i’m tired of promises-
i’m tired of names-
i’m tired of grinding miles beneath tires like a prayer for less grinding and more love-

i wanted to trade my name
and every name i picked up along the way-

i wanted to trade my name
and replace it with a title-
to be the killer or to be the king-

i wanted to trade my name
so it wasn’t attached to you-

i wanted to wake up one day in a cabin in the woods-
to build a fire-

i wanted so much less than what i had-
i wanted to leave it to the professionals-
i never wanted to know how easy it is to hitchhike in arkansas-
i never wanted these to be the secrets i could bring back to you-

when i was twenty-four
i had a fantasy
that i would live without names
in a cabin in the woods
cooking for two-

you could be whoever you wanted
and i would be the king-

there are no kings in cabins-
there are no kings in texas-
there are no kings in graceland or anywhere else-

and if the time is right to let the undertow take your memory-
if i can’t be the king-

i’ll settle for being the killer