The Queen of Hearts - Ezra Furman

It’s the search for a church in the bottom of your purse

A spiritual home that you can take to the mall

You dig and you dig but you can only find your wallet

And your phone with a hundred missed calls

You could never return them all

And I watch you with your purse from the adjacent coffee table

At the Starbucks they built inside my heart

When your makeup starts to run I can see you’re getting older

I can see your life has been hard

Your face is worn like an old playing card

The Queen of Hearts

I am working in my bedroom, I’m composing all the music

For a film that will never by made

It’s the story of my life, a 1, 000, 000-hour epic

About a good man who went down in flames

Who got lost in God’s multitude of names

I am searching, I am searching, I am waving my antennae

Trying to pick up some signal through this dream

I’m an ant in a hill, but I think and I feel

And I’m composing these love letters to the Queen

Hoping somebody will see what I mean

The Queen of Hearts

I always heart about God with a wink and a nod

I guess I took it all too seriously

But I was five years old and I took what I was told

To mean that the sublime was in my reach

That the ocean of the known ends at the beach

Just up the street

But these days people like that are considered aberrations

And I’m being corrected as we speak

This is my heart, it’s a motor, it will search the world over

A search engine — see what I mean

I don’t need the Internet, I don’t need TV

To find the Queen

So if you ever find that church that fits in your purse

Put it into your cold metal shopping cart

And keep on wandering the aisles on the sick fluorescent tiles

We’ll be miles and miles apart

I’ve got my own search and I’m still just at the start

I’ll be out on the highways looking for my counterpart

The Queen of Hearts