New Jeff Buckley was born — Notes for My Quiet Disaster — lyrics
Texty skladeb z alba New Jeff Buckley was born — Notes for My Quiet Disaster.
Město v šedi. Déšť na skle. Cigaretový žár, který nic neosvětluje. Pokojové ticho, rádio za zdí, ztracené texty a hlas, který už nechce nic dokazovat.
New Jeff Buckley was born — Notes for My Quiet Disaster je Original Book Soundtrack ze světa Poslední noci v New Yorku. Jedenáct skladeb, které se pohybují mezi městem a pokojem, hlukem a tichem, potřebou zpívat a potřebou už nic nevysvětlovat.
Tracklist
- Ash Over the City
- The Cigarette Spits in Rain
- Eva 1, Eva 2, Eva 3
- Room Tone in the Glass Garden
- Short Life Question
- Poisoned River (Memphis)
- My Songs Were Taken
- Sing It Like Truth
- Bitter Hymn
- Tip Tap, Tip
- No Duty Here
Lyrics
01 — Ash Over the City
City in grayscale, no edges clean
Paper-ash falling on everything
I lean on the rail like it’s all I own
My breath sounds borrowed, not my tone
Headlights blink and then forget
I count them like a rosary of wet
Ash over the city
I wear it like a name
Ash over the city
Nothing burns the same
If I light a little tower in my hand
It only bites my fingers, understands
A cigarette spits in the patient rain
Small red hill, stubborn and vain
I draw thin circles in the air
Like I’m rehearsing the end somewhere
Street noise hushes into foam
Even my thoughts come home damp and slow
Ash over the city
I wear it like a name
Ash over the city
Nothing burns the same
If I light a little tower in my hand
It only bites my fingers, understands
In a cab with a sleeping god
Radio says “today” like a loaded nod
I don’t answer, I just stare ahead
Let the word sit heavy in the chest
Ash… over the city
Ash… over me
Room tone, room tone
Let it cover what I can’t say
02 — The Cigarette Spits in Rain
Rain writes static on my sleeve
I keep my hands where I can see
On the bridge, the fog stitches shut
Every answer I almost loved
A tiny coal, a stubborn dot
I hold it up— it gives me not
The cigarette spits in rain
Like it’s trying to speak my name
No light, no sign, no flare—
Just heat that bites my fingers bare
The cigarette spits in rain
And I pretend it means “stay”
I pull a breath, then let it go
Three small motions, soft and slow
My eyes keep water under lock
But my body breaks its own rules off
Pressure sitting on my chest
Some pains arrive before the rest
The cigarette spits in rain
Like it’s trying to speak my name
No light, no sign, no flare—
Just heat that bites my fingers bare
The cigarette spits in rain
And I pretend it means “stay”
Fog turns the river into cloth
I watch it move, then watch it stop
If I drop this ember down below
Would it float, would it drown, would it know?
Spit, spit— in rain
Say nothing, say my name
Spit, spit— in rain
No light… just the same
03 — Eva 1, Eva 2, Eva 3
Glass all around me, like an excuse
To say I live in green—
while I live in smoke
I love the quiet dirt and leaves
But un-named things
make a mess of me
So I write it down
like it’s a spell that holds
Eva 1, Eva 2, Eva 3
Three little lifelines, breaking on me
Eva 1, Eva 2, Eva 3
Same prayer— three times, same debris
If I can name it, maybe it stays
If I can name it, maybe it stays
Outside, the city turns into gray
Blocks of weather and weight
Lights like pins in a map
Someone’s radio behind a wall
Humming like a wound
that won’t close up
Silver rain on my skin
Smoke and breath— I can’t tell what’s what again
Eva 1, Eva 2, Eva 3
Three little lifelines, breaking on me
Eva 1, Eva 2, Eva 3
Same prayer— three times, same debris
If I can name it, maybe it stays
If I can name it, maybe it stays
I touch my face like wiping paint
Not water— something else I can’t explain
I keep the labels straight, neat, aligned
So I don’t have to read my mind
Eva 1… Eva 2… Eva 3…
Room tone in the glass garden
Eva 1… Eva 2… Eva 3…
Hold, hold— then pardon
04 — Room Tone in the Glass Garden
Glass garden, late-hour green
But I’m living in smoke between
Leaves hold still like they’re listening
To the house’s thin breathing
City far below—
radio behind a wall
Everything important
comes in small
Room tone in the glass garden
Don’t call it peace
Room tone in the glass garden
Just the ache on repeat
Silver rain on my face
like paint that won’t release
Room tone in the glass garden
Let me be
I label the pots like medicine
So the room won’t start rearranging
Without a name, it’s dirt and leaf
And my mind makes a mess of me
A spoon on a cup—
tiny private bell
I stay quiet
so I can tell
Room tone in the glass garden
Don’t call it peace
Room tone in the glass garden
Just the ache on repeat
Silver rain on my face
like paint that won’t release
Room tone in the glass garden
Let me be
I wipe my skin, not water— color
Breath and smoke, I can’t untangle
If I keep the lines straight, square, aligned
Maybe I won’t have to read my mind
Room tone… room tone…
behind the glass, behind the glass
Room tone… room tone…
I let the city pass
05 — Short Life Question
Pan hiss, city far away
Spoon on ceramic— tiny gray
I’m sitting still, but I’m not calm
My voice comes out like it’s not mine
I hate the way I sound
When I’m trying to be found
Short life question—
Do you hurt yourself to feel?
Short life question—
Is your love even real?
Short life question—
Are you sick, are you scared?
Too many doors in the air
And I can’t laugh them off this time
My cigarette turns wet and mean
Bitter like ash I shouldn’t drink
I keep my answers small on purpose
So no one hears the cracking surface
I line the papers, edge to edge
Like that could hold me at the ledge
Short life question—
Do you hurt yourself to feel?
Short life question—
Is your love even real?
Short life question—
Are you sick, are you scared?
Too many doors in the air
And I can’t laugh them off this time
If I say “I’m fine,” it’s just a coat
If I say “I’m not,” I start to float
Hold your care like a candle, please—
Not a floodlight on my teeth
Short life question…
Ask it, then stay
Short life question…
Don’t turn away
06 — Poisoned River (Memphis)
Day after day, I drink it down
Like it’s the only song in town
Poisoned river in my mouth
Memphis on the label, south
I ask the water, I ask my hands
Who tipped the dark into the sand?
Poisoned river (Memphis)
I get drunk on what I miss
Poisoned river (Memphis)
Your love comes through it like a kiss
On the waves, on the waves—
You send it soft, you send it brave
But it burns all the same
Bitter ash behind my tongue
Like I swallowed what I’d become
Room tone ticking in the sink
Little sounds that make me think
If love can harm me and still feel true
What does that make me, what does it make you?
Poisoned river (Memphis)
I get drunk on what I miss
Poisoned river (Memphis)
Your love comes through it like a kiss
On the waves, on the waves—
You send it soft, you send it brave
But it burns all the same
Don’t call it rescue, don’t call it crime
It’s just a cup I fill each time
I hold it up to the light— no glow
Only the need that won’t let go
Poisoned river (Memphis)
On the waves, on the waves
Poisoned river (Memphis)
Say my name, don’t say my name
07 — My Songs Were Taken
I ran into rain like a loose alarm
Cold on my face, loud in my arms
Tonight was a table, a corner, a plan
A few thin pages and a trembling hand
I come back careful, like entering a room
Where anyone could be standing in the gloom
My songs were taken
Like someone took my mouth
My songs were taken
And poured them out
I still got the melody
stuck in my bones—
But I can’t give it to you
without the words, without the tones
Bag turned inside-out, private mess
Paper on the floor like a mind in distress
I sit where the cup ring used to be
And feel the air staring back at me
I can play three songs, that’s all they’ll hear
And now the three don’t have a body to wear
My songs were taken
Like someone took my mouth
My songs were taken
And poured them out
I still got the melody
stuck in my bones—
But I can’t give it to you
without the words, without the tones
If I explain, it sounds like shame
If I stay quiet, it’s still my name
I count my breath like I count my change
Trying to prove something didn’t change
My songs were taken—
not the need
My songs were taken—
but I still bleed
Room tone… room tone…
08 — Sing It Like Truth
Sin-é light makes a stranger of my face
Warm in the front, cold in the back-place
Wet coats breathing, tea and coffee steam
Door cracks open— winter like a scream
I used to laugh first
so nothing could hurt
Now my mouth is quiet
and the quiet works
Sing it like truth
Not like a weapon, not like a rule
Sing it like truth
Even if it shakes in you
No pretty rescue, no polished youth—
Just room tone and a pulse going through
Sing it like truth
They call it “soul” like it’s a costume you wear
Like you can fake it with a look and a stare
I lost my pages, but I kept the ache
Melody in the bone I can’t break
If I can’t prove it
I can still do it
If I can’t explain it
I can still sing it
Sing it like truth
Not like a weapon, not like a rule
Sing it like truth
Even if it shakes in you
No pretty rescue, no polished youth—
Just room tone and a pulse going through
Sing it like truth
A strip of cold comes in— I don’t flinch
I let it hit me, I let it live
If you’re “from the soul,” then don’t perform
Just stay in the weather, stay in the storm
Sing it like truth…
soft, not sweet
Sing it like truth…
until it’s real to me
09 — Bitter Hymn
My cigarette’s gone wet and cruel
Bitter in my stomach— ash for fuel
You hold my hand like it’s a rail
Like that could make the shaking fail
You hush me soft, you hush me near
But hush can’t fix what I can hear
Bitter hymn, bitter hymn
I sing it low to keep it in
Bitter hymn, bitter hymn
No choir— just my broken skin
If mercy’s real, let it be small
A mouth that doesn’t ask for more
Glass on the shelf turns into snow
Pretty danger falling slow
Two voices arguing in my chest
One wants the end, one wants “the rest”
Clean up the room, pretend it’s fine
Lay the shards in a straight line
Bitter hymn, bitter hymn
I sing it low to keep it in
Bitter hymn, bitter hymn
No choir— just my broken skin
If mercy’s real, let it be small
A hand that doesn’t make me fall
I stopped crying like a switch
Something hardened, something quit
Don’t ask me for a song as proof—
I’ve only got this bitter truth
Bitter hymn… bitter hymn…
Room tone where the prayer begins
10 — Tip Tap, Tip
Water in the pipes, the house exhales
Cold on my face, the thought derails
For one second I’m above the river again
Then I shut the tap, I shut it in
Laughter’s far— like radio light
Announcing something that breaks you quiet
Tip tap, tip— on the glass
Wake up, driver, let me pass
Tip tap, tip— simple sound
Like a heart trying not to drown
No speech, no show, no myth—
Just tip tap, tip
Every step is heavy, wet cloth weight
I move like I’m dragging my own fate
Warm room too warm, sweet wine too sweet
I keep my face on, I keep it neat
A bell over the door— soft, almost sorry
Small noises carrying all the worry
Tip tap, tip— on the glass
Wake up, driver, let me pass
Tip tap, tip— simple sound
Like a heart trying not to drown
No speech, no show, no myth—
Just tip tap, tip
If I knock too hard, it turns to blame
So I do it gentle, same and same
A civil rhythm, a private plea
Trying to wake what’s asleep in me
Tip tap, tip…
don’t make me big
Tip tap, tip…
let the door give
11 — No Duty Here
I kept a list to keep from breaking
Lines and labels, careful spacing
But the page can’t hold the weather
And I’m tired of being measured
If I owe you proof, I’ll drown
So I’m putting proofs down
No duty here
No debt to pay in song
No duty here
If I’m quiet, I’m not wrong
Let the room tone tell it true
Let the ash fall through
No duty here—
I’m going on
Glass around the green, around the smoke
I watched my own hands learn that joke
Bridge lights blinking into fog
I stopped begging them to talk
Radio behind the wall
Keeps saying “today” like a call
I don’t answer— I just breathe
And let it leave
No duty here
No debt to pay in song
No duty here
If I’m quiet, I’m not wrong
Let the room tone tell it true
Let the ash fall through
No duty here—
I’m going on
Tip tap, tip— I touched the glass
Not to ask permission back
Just to wake my body up
From the habit of the cut
No duty here…
(soft) no duty here…
Room tone, room tone—
That’s all I swear.
New Jeff Buckley was born — Notes for My Quiet Disaster
New Jeff Buckley was born — Notes for My Quiet Disaster je Original Book Soundtrack ke stejnojmenné části světa Poslední noc v New Yorku / PNVNY Universe.
V jeho středu stojí Pavel Mokroš — hudebník, jeden ze tří hlavních hrdinů PNVNY a člověk, který před dvaceti lety skutečně vstoupil do mého života. Právě přes Pavla a můj cit k němu se ke mně tehdy dostal také Jeff Buckley: ne jako hudební encyklopedie nebo vzor k napodobení, ale jako hlas spojený s Pavlem, jeho světem a tím, co mezi námi bylo.
Stejně jako kniha se i hudební svět New Jeff Buckley was born vztahuje především k Pavlovu traumatu a tajemství. Příběh je vystavěný pozpátku a jeho osou je cena svobody. Oznámení o smrti Jeffa Buckleyho, k němuž se vyprávění vrací, tak není jen dobovou událostí: v příběhu může znamenat i okamžik, kdy se Pavel symbolicky osvobozuje od osudu umělce, k němuž vzhlížel.
Album proto není poctou Jeffu Buckleymu ani pokusem vytvořit jeho hudební napodobeninu. Patří Pavlovi a příběhu, který jsem kdysi napsal z lásky k němu. Jedenáct skladeb rozvíjí jeho vnitřní svět a cestu k místu, kde vedle zmaru přichází také úleva z pochopení toho, co se vlastně stalo — a co všechno může stát svoboda.
Slova, hudba, koncept — Antonín Deliš
Original Book Soundtrack
PNVNY Universe · Endralon Universe