Heroin Part 2
It’s never easy reaching the masses
I find myself increasingly distracted
I have foibles or perhaps weaknesses
It is my privilege to share you with them
Here is where I might steal a riff
Coast just a bit on old ideas I can lift
Turn of phrase, metaphor, add simile
Things get tough, summon the rhyming dictionary
In the scheme of things there are greater and lesser drug songs
Some drugs deserve more attention than others
Look at the feathery object up in its perch
It is my privilege to welcome you to this church
My Maserati goes 185
And we love to work at nothing all day
Your pants are too tight, it’s gonna be alright
There I go turn the page
Pussycat, pussycat, where have you been?
I’ve been to London to look at the Queen
Pussycat, pussycat, what did you there?
I frightened a little mouse under her chair
Who drives the wrecking balls into our guitars?
You drive us wild, we drive you crazy
We’re coming to your town, we’ll help you party down
Stick a pen in my heart, spill it on the stage
Voices
Hear the voice of the vivisection
Cable cues and the Sunday section
Doctors say you should quit today
But the markets move and your mental space is so
Clogged and cloudy water muddy
Like comic strips in Silly Putty
Turn it up, don’t turn away
Hear the voice and what they say
Turn it up, don’t turn away
Here’s a choice, choose away
On the edge of a generation
On a broom bringing revolution
Reverting back to Reagan’s revenge
And a Bronze Age God’s apocalypse to arrange
Keep them coming keep them wanting more
Keep them wandering in the desert in decades of four
Signal Problems
We’ve got signal problems
This train’s not moving
No one knows why this is
There is no explanation
We’ve got signal problems
There’s nothing one can do
It is what it is
What it isn’t is on you
You will know not when though you may understand why
There are no secrets, only surprises
There are signal problems
The kind you don’t outgrow
It’s not so much “that’s weird”
More than “believe me, I know”
Which is better, terrible ideas or even worse judgement?
You know being awkward isn’t permanent but awkwardness is
You wear your disappointment well, anyone can see that in your eyes
I don’t have secrets, only surprises
Shell Game
Well I guess it’s another one
A shell game of lovers and
Another empty ending when
Connection could have been
Made by a better man
I’m not a better man
It’s not like I don’t try
Sometimes
Well I guess it’s going down
Like a ship that forgot to sound
A frog kissed and gigged
Under the bed again
Overrating it
Subterranean
It’s not like I don’t try
Sometimes
Dead Man’s Clothes
I don’t wanna wear the dead man’s clothes
I don’t wanna hear the dead man’s songs
I don’t wanna eat the dead man’s food
All we are is stuff upstairs: broken-in shirts and broken housewares
All we become is things on stoops: unworn windbreakers in yellows and blues
All we were was trash picked up: half-empty boxes of unused junk
All we hoped for is still back home: a mother, daughter, or wife left all alone
All we ever wanted was never all we ever needed
All we ever end up is there in some lady’s arms
And we’re lucky to be in some lady’s arms
That’s When I Began My Solo Career
Of all the things about which I stayed silent back in the early days
None reveal so much as when you’re simply unseen in the first place
I paid dues, I spent time serving my masters
Cliche after cliche, line after line
That was when that was when . . .
Say what you must about my taste in covers
I have definite thoughts about your side projects
But it’s pointless revealing the secrets behind the magic
Of whatever’s still lingering at the back end of the demographic
That was when that was when I began my solo career
Resist inevitable calls for reunion
As if someone could change that much
Because if you could somehow survive reentry
You’d still have to regain gravity’s trust
I’ve never made a comeback, none one could claim as such
Where once we scaled new heights now I’ve fallen and I can’t get up
That was when that was when I began my solo career
I know of nothing precious languishing in some vault
But if we were to speak conditionally the worst would not be catastrophic
And if we admit there were, and if by “were” we meant all of it
The few left who might find that tragic are the ones loitering at the back end of the demographic
That was when that was when I began my solo career
Good Night
You and I
Gemini goodnight
Tongue tied and tried
To turn sin to sight
Yeah a good night
Cab drive alive
Undenied
Undressed in the light
Underdressed last time
Black tie
Almost lost an eye
An eye for an eye
Impressed, precise
Impossible pride and possibly ill advised
Along the lines
A long time on this silly rhyme
Awake and winding
A canyon run and a starting gun
Can’t be undone
Downhill in the sun
An eye for an eye
Anthem
This thing here is rare
Rarer than a perfect game
Or an unassisted triple play
Or the Triple Crown
I’m going to scream it loud
Loud and proud, louder and prouder than a
CrossFit class on the sidewalks of Midtown
In the middle of the lunch rush
During the holiday season
Of course I don’t personally know it to be true but someone around here has probably finished the book
I have here in my hand a list
A list of the greatest bumper stickers of all time
Handed to you on a silver platter with truffle oil chips
And a side of crispy wonton strips
And I know so, so many things without even having read the book
The irrefragable reality here is clear
Irrefragably clear to my ear
And to my ear, regardless
Every time I tune in I hear exactly what I want to hear
I can use “brobdingnagian” in a sentence without even having read the book
I can misuse “quixotic” in a sentence without even having read the book
Not Counting on Sheep
Like a tree losing leaves
I fell into a dreamless sleep
Not counting on sheep
No water to waste on these frivolous things
Not counting on sheep
The frivolous things
Like a seed in the spring
A summer fan rooting
Like ice to a river running
I see what I’m no longer missing
Counting on sheep
No longer missing
Try to keep the beat
Leave behind the backseat
Lessons learn like a leak
In my heart and on my sleeve
Not counting on sheep
My heart on my sleeve
I Need Your Love
First thing in the morning
Last thing at night
When I’m walking down the street
Now I’m running down the street
I need your love
I’ve got a heart attacking my mind
Retying all the binds
Reminding me
Of what’s not mine
I need your love
Her mother’s name
Always caught out in the rain
If it can’t be the same
I could be your slave
I need your love
Here Is My New Emo Song
Dr. Spock never spanked us and we suffer the statistics
Self-absorbed, self-obsessed, self-indulgent, solipsistic
I hate to break it to you, your disappointment’s not logical
My only purpose on this planet is to disappoint my mama
I spent the weekend with the collected works of Psychology Today
Digested it all, even the stuff that seemed like clickbait
Came out the other side edified and equipped
Equipped to manage all the toxicity in my midst
The cat has discovered its bit
Its own multi-level marketing pitch
It scratches at the back door trying to get in
It’s got a mouthful of feathers and thinks it’s giving a gift
We’re sorry to have startled you
You caught us off guard
This thing in my hands?
Here is my new emo song
We’re sorry to have startled you, you caught us off guard
This thing in my hands? Here is my new emo song
Common Road Song
As much as you privilege the coast I stay stubborn toward the interior
In hot pursuit of wild goose made weary and wearier
Criss-crossing the country, rest stop on the edge of baloney
Later on eyes dewy on the back end of a Lifetime movie
The whole wide world wastes its breath at every critical juncture
Who is this elusive “they” changing infrastructure?
Big deal: it’s a dam, a hole in the ground, a burial mound
And I am forever determined to stay miserable in the backseat of a car
My mind is unmoored with mental space unencumbered
Who really cares how the Interstate Highway System is numbered?
Math means 400 by 65, 300 by 75 200 by 85
Stay awake, stay alive when you drive on 95, or I-5 or I-75 or I-55 or even the 15
North to south, eye on salinity downstream
And no: I don’t know just where I think I am going
No, I don’t know just where I think I am
No, I don’t know just where I think I am from
But I have a pretty good idea just how far I’ve come
Two trains leave the station
One gets rerouted, the other’s really not built for speed
Two trains leave the station
One sort of putters around, the other’s thinking more theoretically
Two trains leave the station
But all things being equal, both would really rather stay inside
Two trains leave the station
But all anyone really wants to do is drive