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Mount Eerie – When I Walk Out Of The Museum lyrics
[Julie Doiron]
When I walk out of the museum
The wall of sudden light makes me crinkle up my nose
And standing, coat half on, between marble columns
I sneeze into the wind
[Phil Elverum and Julie Doiron]
When I walk out of the museum
I have centuries of dust behind my eyes
I hunch a little bit
From the culminated weight of all these other peoples' ideas
I see a tipped over garbage can blowing in the street
[Phil Elverum]
When I walk out of the museum
I think about a snorkeler surfacing tangled in kelp
That is me: writhing, wild attention, glancing around
The huge museum door behind me slam
And I flinch
[Phil Elverum and Julie Doiron]
In all of these brief flashes of momentary clarity
The emptiness that cuts through
Is like a bowl beneath the sky
Empty, not yet pregnant
Fertile, without form
It terrifies me, the raw possibility
And I want to go back inside
But when I walk out of the museum
Everything I see seems rippling and alive
On a freezing January day
Everything:
The museum
And the garbage
And the internet
And the constellations
All collapse into a heap
And light floods out
From this compost pile
When I walk out of the museum
The wall of sudden light makes me crinkle up my nose
And standing, coat half on, between marble columns
I sneeze into the wind
[Phil Elverum and Julie Doiron]
When I walk out of the museum
I have centuries of dust behind my eyes
I hunch a little bit
From the culminated weight of all these other peoples' ideas
I see a tipped over garbage can blowing in the street
[Phil Elverum]
When I walk out of the museum
I think about a snorkeler surfacing tangled in kelp
That is me: writhing, wild attention, glancing around
The huge museum door behind me slam
And I flinch
[Phil Elverum and Julie Doiron]
In all of these brief flashes of momentary clarity
The emptiness that cuts through
Is like a bowl beneath the sky
Empty, not yet pregnant
Fertile, without form
It terrifies me, the raw possibility
And I want to go back inside
But when I walk out of the museum
Everything I see seems rippling and alive
On a freezing January day
Everything:
The museum
And the garbage
And the internet
And the constellations
All collapse into a heap
And light floods out
From this compost pile
Lyrics taken from
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