The Archives – The Lyric Book “Dropping a Porcelain Heart”

 

Well  I think I may have a knack for songs surrounding break ups.  Have you ever screwed something up so terribly and hurt somebody so bad and you weren’t sure how you could ever fix it?  It’s very much like dropping a valuable and watching it shatter and not knowing what to do next.

I remember being little and seeing all kinds of trinkets and jewelry on my great grandmothers dresser.  That imagery stayed with me.  Old iridescent perfume bottles with the scent still faintly in them, long, draping gold necklaces and large jewels.  There was something about the way the grandma’s seem to accumulate porcelain objects that make it difficult not to want to pick them up with curiosity.  When you drop one….well, that’s what I thought would be the perfect metaphor for this song.

Where do you start when you’ve dropped a porcelain heart
Dropping a porcelain heart
A destruction of art
She wouldn’t (refuses to) tell me the instructions
The glass bottles atop the dresser clinking and teetering

attracted
habit
imagined
fastened
calloused
fragments
balance

among the love letters and memories and sentimental debris
(just as I had found exactly what I was looking for)
(with careless, curious hands I let it fall to the floor)

Dropping a Porcelain Heart – version 1

What will my mother say, when I tell her what happenend?
Was I a careless boy, or did I just loose my balance?
Some of them seem to be made out of stone
Some of them you regret to find become ice cold
You can be careless together from the bar to the dresser
With whoever you want (in every adventure)

They’re usually stone or ice, but never so tender (in every adventure)
Touching things that didn’t belong to me
Holding them carelessly between the bar (bed) and the dresser

We can be careless with stone hearts, we can sleep around on them and they don’t care anyways

Object Write – Grandmothers Bedroom

Coarse thick, itchy carpet like cream brillo pads against my soft bare feel. The dark wooden dresser of mysteries. Hollow wobbling as I open a drawer, the jangling hanlle like mini door knockers to a counts estate. Dust and antiquated perfumes catch my nose, sweet, sweet musky floral in every shape and color bottle clinking and teetering like an alchemists xylophone. An led clock radio plays a faint fuzzy love ballads from the 80’s. I taste mothballs and date filled cookies in the air. My curious hands scour the assortment of jewely and trinkets, old faded pictures, sun bleached and crinkled, worn pewter chains. I stand tip-toed, peering into this strange treasure chest and buzzing with wonder and excitement of all these spoils.

Go back to poetry?
Back to not saying I love you?

Embossed Dresser
Engraved Floor
Glass Shards
Ornament Shatter
Nude Crackle
Technique Drawer

Scouring my memories for old faded pictures

Porcelain Heart – Version 2

What will my mother say when I tell her what happened
Am I an awful boy, or did I just loose my balance
They’ve always been stone or ice, in every adventure
Holding/It’s easy to be careless with between (near) the bed (bar) and the dresser

Where do you start when you’ve dropped a porcelain heart
Where do you start when you’ve dropped a porcelain heart

Treating things carelessly is a terrible habit
No broom and pan can clean up the fragments
As soon as she gave me herself, I held (reached for) another (was mine)

I guess I grew use to holding ones made of stone
ones that had once been tender, but had grown ice cold
I guess I grew used to ones like my own

Where do you start when you’ve dropped a porcelain heart
Where do you start when you’ve dropped a porcelain heart

Dropping a Porcelain Heart – Final Version

I’ll take extra care of her, I swore to her mother
And as soon as she gave it to me, I reached for another
I thought I could have as many as I wanted and it wouldn’t matter
Until I heard the sound it makes when it shatters

Where do you start
When you’ve dropped a porcelain heart?
It’s a destruction of art
When you’ve dropped a porcelain heart

I was so used to stone or ice in all my adventures
As I staggered that same worn path from the bar to the bedroom
Littered with shards of my own first love, now sentimental debris
I thought everyone else had become as heartless as me

If I broke your heart would you let me put it back together

Where do you start
When you’ve dropped a porcelain heart?
It’s a destruction of art
When you’ve dropped a porcelain heart