A Knock Upon The Door - Cass McCombs

«Hell!»

sang the young minstrel, «hang tightly to your purses!

Bitter winter on this blonde city and utter curses!»

The song ended and the onlookers did roar

Were I sincere, you bet I’d hear

A knock upon the door

«Hell!»

went the Muse, intent, «you take me for granted!

You’ve made me a harlot, if I may be candid!»

The label dropped her, not before they shopped her in a bidding war

Were I sincere, you bet I’d hear

A knock upon the door

The tired minstrel, leaving town, heard the Muse’s weeping

He turned up the Elvis tape in his grey car, creeping

«Sex and Death!

Was I not the breadth among the two?»

she poured

«Were you sincere, I bet you’d hear

My knock upon your door!»

He said, «Dear Muse, Come here!

Need a lift somewhere?

You’ve got the wrong man, I was only kidding back there

I worship you!

Forgive me for behaving like such a boor

I am sincere: I hope to hear

Your knock upon my door!»

«The Causeless Cause of Flawless Flaws has video on you.»

She scorned

«Evidence, in none defense, should I have you burned, deformed

Hey!

Hell is real and so will be your sores!

Heck with sincere, hark, I hear

A knock upon the door.»

The derisive Muse said, «your therapy isn’t working, is it?»

Memphis huckster-Hitler-hustler!

Aren’t you a Clear yet?

Always brooding the meaning of sex, pretending to be poor

Klock is here!

Hark, I hear

A knock upon the door."

His head throbbed under her voice, ubiquitous and soft

Beads streamed from his hair, soaking his black t-shirt's cloth

Gut feeling was to leave her words on the cutting-room floor

He thought, «If I stay here, I’ll never hear

That knock upon the door»

Muse, exhausted, peered the accosted, her hand on her abdomen

A human voice to her songs, she could not condemn

Because of a communion they had had of yore

The blessed day is near, soon they’ll hear

A knock upon the door