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Writing A Novel by Father John Misty


 



                          Writing A Novel






 
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I ran down the road, pants down to my knees, screaming please come help me that Canadian 
shaman gave a little too much to me
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and I'm writing a novel, cause it's never been done before
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First house that I saw, I wrote house up on the door, and told the people who lived 
there you have to get out cause my reality is realer than yours
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ya there's no time in the present. and there's a black dog on the bed
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Went to the backyard, to burn my only clothes, and then the dog ran out he said you 
can't turn nothing into nothing this would be no more
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and I'm no doctor, but that monkey might be right
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and if he is,  then I'll be walking him my whole life

Drove to Malibu, on a dune buggy with Neil, he said you're gonna have to drive me out on 
the beach if you ever wanna write for real
and I said I'm sorry, young man what was your name again?

Everywhere I go in West Hollywood, it's filled with people pretending they don't see the 
actress and the actress wishing that they would
we could do ayawaska, baby if I wasn't holding all these drinks

Something bout the way, Violet whips her hair makes me empty my pockets, I'm cutting the 
corners, bumming twenties as if I was the mayor
I don't need any new friends, but I could really use something to do

so if you're up for it sometime, I swear you wouldn't have to be my muse

Heidegger and Sartre, drinking poppy tea, I could have sworn last night I passed out in 
my van and now these guys are pouring one for me
I'll never leave the canyon, cause I'm surrounded on all sides








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