The Suburbs Of Birds

The summer here will come late, I know
And when it comes it might last forever
But I have the man on the radio to keep the rain out
And the piano in the corner to warm the flowers for the spring
Every time I look from the window I think of the factories
Over on the East side of the city
There was a fire, of chemicals and grass not long ago
The ground is still charred, it nearly reached the brothels
The casino was saved by some quick thinking
A tree fell down I wondered if it hurt, or if the birds cared
The suburbs of the birds, as boring but as flammable as our own
When I heard them talking of the fire on the radio
I wondered how long it would take for them to put on a song
It wasn't very long, but I don't remember what it was
I was looking at an atlas at the time, at the west coast of America
The area that I have a curious fascination with
I would never like to go there, but if i did I am sure I would enjoy it
I have a friend who went there, she hired a car and drive around
She says she enjoyed, but she doesn't talk about it much
I remembered what the song was, or the singer at least
It was Jens Lekman, the guy from Europe
He sings from the heart, he sings from the soul
But he never seems to learn from his mistakes
And I wonder if he has been to the west coast of America
And if he has, does he talk about much, and who too?
He sounds as though he is comfortable with his emotions
I am lucky if I buy a comfortable pair of shoes
I am lucky if I get time to read an atlas these days
What with always trying to look for signs of summer
Always trying to keep my voice louder than the man on the radio
Always trying to keep my battery charged
Is it a trick of the light, a trick of Hollywood, residue from Hitchcock?
Our emotions and what our portrayal of comfort
I heard a neighbour talking to his wife about the state of the weather
He has decided to hold off on the planting of his summer garden
I have decided to hold off choosing the soundtrack for my summer
It will probably be Jens Lekman, or something from France
I don't know, maybe something from the west coast of America
Maybe I will write my own album, call it 'The Suburbs of Birds'
I don't know, I guess it all depends on whether Summer even comes