I had the last verse of this song written for a long time, along with a bunch of earlier verses that I didn’t like as much that I eventually discarded. One quiet day when I was not doing too much of anything, I started to come up with the lyrics of the earlier verses — just in my head without an instrument or speaking them out loud, which is unusual for me. So the song was generated by this out-of-the-ordinary writing method, but I think this resulted in a song that is pretty different from anything else I’ve written to date.
These songs are poetic, and not just because the words are poems. Their poetry lies in the music itself: Chapman’s reserved but powerful delivery, their lulling, hypnotic repetitions, the avian chorus of squawking guitars and chirping synths. This marriage of words and music captures something ineffable that lies between thought and expression (to borrow a phrase from Lou Reed), and with it, Nap Eyes have produced a beautiful, literary, aspirational, and inspiring work. post-trash
On the parade ground across the great divide
I saw 1000 candles flickering
And through a peasant’s eyes I saw a green-clad man
Ringing blue bells of offering
Beside him, astride, in neon fuchsia robes
And more beautiful than anything
A woman the sight of whom changed his mind
In a permanent way
Well, as for me, I rode the three miles north
Back to old York town
And lodged my horse in a stable there
Before walking to the castle grounds
Strange to make a parade so far away
Where there were so few others around
But I let the thought drop from my head
And that night my sleep was sound
When I awoke, I knew not the hour
But it seemed all the people had fled
I returned to my room and where the mirror had been
I found a blue doorway instead
Bracing myself against a bone-chilling wind
I wrapped my scarf around my head
And entered down a rainbow crystal pathway
Strangely compelled to follow where it led
Well, ever since then I’ve been in this gem-sea land
Where the night is as warm as the day
People talk on phones and they drive down roads
To places many miles away
As for me, I remain by my edge-of-town home
Watching the ocean’s peaceful sway
I’ve been drifting in and out of a mysterious dream
Of that old-time passageway
Is this what I get for listening to “Iris”
At nine o’clock on a Monday morning
In the shadow of the foreboding sculpture
In the diamond circular saw ring?
Far away, the dawn-bright dew
On some blue fields sparkling
In the deep mind, in the well,
In the heart of things
