Story Behind The Song
Negative capability is described by John Keats as: "when man is capable of being in uncertainties. Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason." This song paints vivid colors for me, and it reminds me of the way you can't capture beauty of a sunset, or a painting. you are just left with a beautiful mystery that you can't explain or even fully feel. It's also about the way that we remember history through our own context and personal feelings, it is subjective.
Song Description
Negative capability is described by John Keats as: "when man is capable of being in uncertainties. Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason." This song paints vivid colors for me, and it reminds me of the way you can't capture beauty of a sunset, or a painting. you are just left with a beautiful mystery that you can't explain or even fully feel. It's also about the way that we remember history through our own context and personal feelings, it is subjective.
| Song Length |
2:59 |
Genre |
Pop - Easy Listening, Folk - Alternative |
| Tempo |
Medium (111 - 130) |
Lead Vocal |
Female Vocal |
| Mood |
Serene, Enchanting |
Subject |
Painting, History, Past |
| Similar Artists |
Elliott Smith, Christina Perri |
Language |
English |
| Era |
2000 and later |
| |
Lyrics
I'm not too good with words until the ink has dried/ even then i find myself spilling a word or two/ the picture in my head is not what I've created/ with the space between my heart and mouth. /
Like a beautiful sunset never translated in a photograph/ "you cannot describe someone you're in love with"/
chorus: if i were a painter i would/ cultivate the moments we neglect/ it can't fit in a frame but we could/ take a moment to reflect what we have left/ and where the light hits./
Something about the way your/ smile says a little more/ I won't call you beautiful, I will take you with a grain of salt/ cause we all have bags of it at our feet.
chorus/ and where your eyes are looking/ the colors show something internal and lurking/ and who we are when we walk away/ i'm not a painter, but i/ think i see something in the background/ watching you walk away in this/ forced perspective makes me wish i believed/ i have to believe
that in two hundred years/ this is the way we'll be remembered/ and in the corner is my name.