Stendhal in an Airbnb

Anacortes, up the hill
island like a turtle shell
the surface so calm
it's starting to look like the television
that white noise you fell to sleep with
that white noise you fell to sleep with

war rolls in, water like an oil spill
trees swinging in the breeze
the same tempo and melody as
the little birds singing in the trees

Anacortes, in the shallows
smoke rolls in from the pits
and sparks like an oil spill
bleeding over into the horizon's island
starting to look like the pixels that you got lost in
and now the horizon and the Cascade mountain on the horizon
starting to look like a hologram that you're lost in

the surface so calm
it's starting to look like the television
that white noise you fell to sleep with
that white noise you fell to sleep with

war rolls in, water like an oil spill
trees swinging in the breeze
the same tempo and melody as
the little birds singing in the trees

the red eye
who do i run to?
who do i cry to?
why is it obvious that the feeling's mutual?
why am i feeling like its so simple?
everything was once so simple
everything, oh everything
was once so simple, everything
was once so simple, everything

Anacortes, the music, the music
the music they make
(war rolls in, water like an oil spill)
the music, the music, the music they make
trees swinging in the breeze
the same tempo and melody as
the little birds singing in the trees
Anacortes, in the shallows