Vedder Tuesday Ⅳ: Sleight Of Hand
For week four, a song that should, I believe, just have been a poem to begin with. A poem published two years into the Bush Ⅱ regime. Here it is, without music:
Sleight Of Hand
Routine was the theme; he'd wake up, wash, and pour himself into uniform
Something he hadn't imagined being
As the merging traffic passed he found himself staring down at his own hands
Not remembering the change. Not recalling the plan. Was it...?
He was okay, but wondering about wandering
Was it age? By consequence? Or was he moved by sleight of hand?
Mondays were made to fall. Lost on a road he knew by heart,
It was like a book he read in his sleep. Endlessly.
Sometimes he hid in the radio, watching others pull into their homes,
While he was drifting.
On a line of his own. Off the line, on the side. By the by.
As dirt turned to sand
As if moved by sleight of hand
When he reached the shore of his clip-on world he resurfaced to the norm
Organized his few things; his coat and keys
And he knew realizations would have to wait
Till he had more time. More time.
A time to dream to himself. He waves goodbye to himself;
"I'll see you on the other side" --
Another man moved by sleight of hand