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What Am I Going To Do With Everything I Know

by The Weather Station

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I slept on couches, other people's houses, overwhelmed in borrowed sheets. I went through their records, they had piles of bills and letters and all these photographs of people I would never meet. Laid out in the light, shirt on my eyes, and I try but I know I won't sleep. And I don't understand anything that has happened to me. Like I'm telling a friend and I don't even believe me. Where had I put it now, where had I hidden the proof? I looked down at my hands lined with nothing but the ways I had moved. And in waking and in sleeping everything irretrievably new - and I go out for meals, and I meet up for coffee. Could be how it feels, irreversibly free.
No matter how much, there's always more of it. And a tender touch cleared all of it. I said nothing - you said nothing - we did nothing at all. Like a maple key - graceful in our fall. But what am I going to do with everything I know? What am I going to do with everything I know? When I set it out in letters, work in my fingers, and now I don't remember what I touched. Oh, I would throw out all the water for want of a cup - as though it didn't matter if it can't be drunk. So what am I going to do with everything I know? What are you going to do with everything you know? I was staring at you - felt like staring out a window. It all becomes true if we say so.
Seemed True 03:22
It seemed true - and it was too. I expect to be fooled, to be won over by no-one. Oh, but when I was won - I was not fooled. Maybe it's a little soon, he moved in on the weekend. Was it the way he tied his shoes? The careful way he placed them in my hallway, I saw it all change, or it's just the same, the same as it's always been. I've always known better, I'm never taken in. Till I was taken in, glad not to know better, to know the pleasure of being somewhere. In your youth, you wanted to know only the truth. And so, you were so confused how so much escaped you. Left with so little, you felt like you'd been robbed, I sat down beside you so lost. You feel like love would not hold still for you - the sun dropped and the evening brought a chill that you shivered through, fall all you knew. You expect to be moved, to be shaken and shuddering. Oh, but when you shook, you were not moved. And I can't do this for you if you won't allow me to.
No great auspicious day, I been here so many times, and I wasn't sure I'd stay. I felt shy and stressed, with a man to my left, waiting. It struck me, the way I saw him - a familiarity almost haunting. He was saying his name, I could hardly even hear him, and I lean in - I wouldn't want to see him through your eyes. I only want to see him through mine. One in the well never minds the water, for it's clear and still. In time, light can come to be a stranger, and it takes will. Always will. Such a soft spoken man. I had to do most of the talking. I didn't mind, we stayed up late that night, patient.
Time 02:51
I began to believe it was serious, you and me. Like the lines of the streets - so straight in this whole city. I was scared, I dreamed of grey, how it would come to your hair, someday, your touch would change, you might look away. I thought time moved in with us too, when it was only me and you. Every day became it's messenger, its frame. You don't care, no, it's not your way, you smile and you make a joke, and I don't know when to laugh, or think, or ask - Is it all on the line? It is all in my mind? I said "this is love, we'll go through all the stages." You said "my love! This song! Do you hear all the changes!" When it's all on the line, when it's all in your mind - there's light, colours that come through in the afternoon on the walls red lit of our quiet living room. Sometimes we brush past one another like brothers, cool and casual with one another. Again I touch your hand for the first time or forever, like the first line of the first letter.
Set out just after supper, I felt stiff cold in my fingers for the first time this year. Subtle every inhibition, subtle ever gently lifting to feel good again. I don't know why on this day, half way to the bank and the news stand. Don't know why in this way, absent minded feeling the leather of his hand, in my hand. There's a new bar on the corner, all they left was faded letters of the old address. Every day a shaken image, every day a mirrored surface of our love and darkness and happiness. "What if we get married?" I said it almost careless, as though it was nothing to me. He laughed and coloured and nodded yes. Then we turned across the park's expanse, open fields of last year's grass, heading back with one question less, one less, one less, than we started out with.


released October 14, 2014

Recorded by Daniel Romano (2, 4, 5, 6)
Brian Haran and Jim Bob Aiken (1,3)

Mixed by Stew Cookes (1, 4, 5, 6) and Tamara Lindeman (2, 3)
Mastered by Jeff Elliot
Design and Photography by Colin Medley

All songs written by Tamara Lindeman (SOCAN 2014)


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The Weather Station Toronto, Ontario

I write songs about things that exist.


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