1. deeper in the
passenger seat
the pain
that i'm about to sing about is much deeper.
deeper
than the shame of what i've done wrong
deeper
than the first video game (bloop bloop) pong
deeper
than the characters cheech and chong
deeper
than their hits from the water bong
deeper
than the disappointment when they bang the gong
deeper
than the guy from 16 candles long duck dong
deeper
than a word that sounds like schlong
deeper
than the crack that hides her thong
deeper
that the moon when the night is long
deeper
than the love in the heart of king kong
deeper
than the crack that hides her thong
deeper
than the four chords of this song
and much
deeper than the words that go along
she
had all of her shit together, a
sense of humor good job, and a pretty white smile. she
said she's happy being single. you
see, the last boyfriend that she had totally fucked
her over.
he
was four years younger, a
little bit immature at the time, but she thought she
could change him. she
caught his ass in a web of lies, she
realized that she was blind. oh
she cried, and wanted to die. she
sped off in her car, but was in no condition to be
driving.
he
said he was sorry. i'm
a little bit totally confused about love at the time. i
know that i love you, but maybe somebody else too. i
know though in the end you are the one that i want
to be with.
she
said don't try, you've already lied. you've
broken something that could've been special in our
lives. i
would be a fool to settle on you. you
treated me like shit and now you are the one that is
crying.
he
writes in his journal...i know i'm the biggest fucking
idiot that has ever walked the earth. i would smash
my guitar and never write another song if
i could take back the crimes i committed against my
love.
"we'll
still get together" she said, "every now
and then, cuz i'm fucked in the head by you, and i
love how you make me feel."
and
then he said...please don't make love to me in the
passenger seat of your car. i
would rather be alone than doing this for no reason
at all. myself
i hate because i made a mistake. i
love you with all of my heart today, but
i'm afraid it is too late.
2. your uncomfortable couch
don't
give me those eyes. because you know that i've tried to
pretend the word consequence has never been invented
and our words
are like flies, and the shit where they sit lies. what
i really need is a good night sleep, not all of the decisions
on me.
everyone
is different. some
like shoulder length hair, others 2 and a half feet. some
like mrs. garrett others like blaire or tootie, and
some are sick of that old guy from knight rider getting
all of that beach booty. some
are sucking margaritas till their brains freeze, others
are smoking until they can't walk and they're down on
their knees. when i'm deep in my sleep, you're dancing
in my dreams
it
doesn't sound boring, things you've never ever done in
the morning. how
soon you forget what we did on the 26th. did
you think it was right? did you think that i might choose
to sleep on your uncomfortable couch the next time i
stayed over?
everyone
is different. some
play with fire, others climb trees some
stare at cleavage, others stare at teeth and someone's
afraid to call because they're afraid that you have caller
ID. some liked
mr. T while others hated the A-team, and
you don't realize how much time you waste watching tv. when
i'm deep in my sleep, you're dancing in my dreams
they
said it was gonna be a big party, but how could i believe the
events that would transpire on that eve. a
little shot of whisky, bloody mary to chase. beer
goggles necessary because her face. things
got a little shady-crazy, they got out of control so
you picked up the phone and you phoned the patrol. police
red and blue, ambulance red and white, lights
spinning in circles like it was the 4th of july.
everyone
is different. some
like days of our lives and others like to sleep. some
like my live shows better than my live cd. some
a playing drinking games more than they should be, some
are lazy, some are crazy, and some wish they were baby dirty
dancing with patrick swayze.
when
i'm deep in my sleep, you're dancing in my dreams
3. Shakespeare's tuesday
shakespeare
wakes up from a deep sleep of dreams . he
can't wait to see who he'll be seeing late on this
tuesday evening. it's
a beautiful woman with a spirit like a bird. they've
got this incredible chemistry like a love story that
he wishes he could write. shakespeare
you see, is a poet and a play write. he's
working on this new project with words that he has
yet to find. he's
inspired by this one girl, and the confusion of her
love. at
1st the two of them were blind to see that they could
be so good for each other.
he
sat on the floor, she
sat on her ankles. she
cured his writers block while she was breaking his
heart. you
see she's got a second lover at home, but
shakespeare loves her more than the other, this he
knows, as
he writes her lyrics and poems.
for
years she's been in love with an average man, but
now she's falling for an artist, the poet at hand.
shakespeare writes and writes and writes and writes
and writes. he'd
love to see that beautiful bird but she is caged up
by that other man at the moment. she told shakespeare
she didn't want to hurt him. he
smiled at her and said my dear that will never happen. you're
only hurting yourself. the
tears i bleed will evaporate indeed before you come
to your senses.
shakespeare
and his fear of being alone is not stronger than his
fear of never being near his star crossed lover. he
tries to hide behind the quill of his pen, but
that woman is inside of him too deep for him to try
to forget her. days
go by without a written or spoken word, then
he says you know how you love to read all of my stories
about the pain people feel? well
i'm feeling that pain right now, right here in my heart. you
wouldn't happen to have a pen and a piece of paper
so i could write this one down.
4. all of this music for your wedding day
melissa
on the cover of a bride magazine. she appears to be everywhere
this september morning. don't you miss me? maybe she
does. no she doesn't, that was just my imagination. she's
not pretty she is beautiful. full of herself it seems,
but not as much as me. i'm a smartass musician, she's
a super-model looking woman waitressing.
there's
got to be more to the story than that. as a matter of
fact, on the floor we sat and the 2 of us we had a blast,
but then our love did pass and now i'm flat. on her memory
list i'm last and my pain at, she laughs and the poetry
comes out fast. here comes the bride as i try to get
where the streets intersect. i'm just a guy in my car
i fly, who wishes to object and now i would like to make
a trade. all of this music for your wedding day.
i'm cold
and i'm shaking and i'm scared and i'm hot. my heart
beats hard and my heart is about to stop. the oceans
of my palms and the cotton of my mouth as i head south
looking for a way out.
5. i'd love
so i'm
trying to go back and track through my thoughts and figure
out where this idea came from. i think it started with
you when you dropped me a line and then i took those
lines and turned them into lines. so much has happened
since our last communication, about a year and a half.
you're in manhattan, visiting new york city, coming to
junctures and wondering about me.
if you
got the time, i'd love
i'm always
traveling and slowly working on a new cd, playing the
guitar and dating 18's. driven by a vision, sentimental
to the past. the last place you thought you'd end up,
you ended up there fast. i needed your last name certainly,
certainly you are not the only emily. how young we were,
how old we thought. both of our debt above your heads
when our memories crossed.
so
dorothy, lion, johnny, toto, tin-man, and the scarecrow
all went for a stroll down that golden road. they went
to the wizard of O.Z. and said what can you do for
me? he said if you believe, your wishes are easy. here's
your brain, here's a heart, here's the nerve, and here's
a rolls, but dorothy i don't know how to get you back
home. would you stay please? would you marry me? i'd
be the king of oz and you could be the queen.
if you
got the time, i'd love
6. potential lover
i told
her she's an even bigger headcase than i thought. she
laughed, laid on her back, i've always been attracted
to girls like that, but this one is different. she reminded
me of a movie i once saw she said i can't stop that,
go fast, at last.
she's a
magazine cover, curtain puller, potential lover, compulsive
liar, tank top wearer, preview giver, passionate kisser,
poetry liver. i can't have you, but maybe that's why
i want you love to spend the night. you're so fine. i
can read you like braille to the blind like the pegs
of a lite brite. i know wrong from right, but maybe i
lied, when i told you love that i didn't mind being the
other guy.
let me
rub your back and your arms let me rub your legs. anyway,
what are you thinking now? are you thinking how did you
get yourself into this? let me put your pieces together
let me clean your mess. lets talk about the attraction,
on my bed rest. when you're gone i wish you hadn't left.i
told you how i wished we'd never met.
she's a
magazine cover, curtain puller, potential lover, compulsive
liar, tank top wearer, preview giver, passionate kisser,
poetry liver. i can't have you, but maybe that's why
i want you love to spend the night. you're so fine. i
can read you like braille to the blind like the pegs
of a lite brite. i know wrong from right, but maybe i
lied, when i told you love that i didn't mind being the
other guy.
7. every song is not about love
listen
all you people to the song i have to sing. i may not
be zz top but i can do my thing with the state of the
art attraction and a diamond ring. woke up in the quicksand
of a one night fling. gonna make the dancer smile with
a dollar bill and give q-bert some ritalin so he can
sit still. go once go twice go three times to get your
fill. what was thought, what we did, what she felt, and
what we will.
if i thought
your name was susan, would it be ok if you thouhg that
my name was jimmy? round and round she goes and i'm gonna
prove to this girl that every song is not about love.
8. some little known author
i know
she has forgotten me, but what she doesn't know is that
i'm like a stone, a bookmark, folded corner, some little
known author. the tragedy is so comic that i can't get
off her. i drop a line, she drops an anchor, she put
these tatoos all over my body.
memories
disappearing faster, faster than this pen can make it's
way to a ziplock bag. someday this little known author
will be a father. if i had things my way she would be
the lovely mother.
here's
the hook, was she real? late saturday she taught the
moon to float. a song unfinished can you please give
me a minute? the second verse is appearing and you are
appearing in it. i draw conclusions, she draws circles,
she's flipping radio stations. alcohol is removing unusual
reservations.
9. the last thing that you hear before you
fall asleep
nobody
would ever believe it, what you did. that overcast afternoon,
when you laid in my bed. i seemed to have somehow talked
you into taking all of your clothes off while i volunteered
to sit at the end of the bed and write you a song. oh
how hard it is for me to concentrate and my mind is flying
so far away.
every
song that i hear on the radio reminds me of you and that
day that you were naked up in my room. all of the promises
we made and then we failed to keep, but please let this
cd be the last thing that you hear before you fall asleep.
10.
beauty rise once again
it's
always about a girl.
met in
front of TV cameras and studio lights. she
took me to my apartment and we talked for a while. she
taught me how to dress myself. that
woman she had an incredible sense of style.
oh i
miss you (in my head)i wish i could see your beauty
rise once again.
even
though her bed was nothing more than a mattress on
the floor. her bed frame leaned up against the whitest
wall. piles
of her clean clothes at the bottom of her closet. she
would spend 40 minutes everyday picking out her daily
outfits
closure
flies as lies collide. i stare at her she doesn't notice
me, but that's all right, because tonight i'm fine
for the first time in a long time. lunchbox of ziplox
locked tight. i think this molecule train ride is best
kept left on the outside, or something seems and needs
to be removed because there seems to be no room on
the inside. there's no room in that space behind. there's
no room in that space behind my eyes. and i would love
to be anybody but myself for a day and scorpios points
are made, but capricorn doesn't know what to say.
two hundred
and fifteen songs. six years since we dated. the rumors
of my brokenness have been extremely extremely exaggerated.
11.
the last six years with my wife and my mistress
double
parked within myself and if i say it is love it's a
lie. a day without sunshine is like night. she's wet
and i'm dry. i wish you could come, but you can't.
on the other hand there's different fingers that point
to the sky, to the limit of my drive. writer's speed
bump, but i can fly because my wife is in new york
tonight. actually more like fifteen miles, a million
paces in her smile.
the
last six years with my wife and my mistress. the music
it was the music it was the music it is.
she
doesn't wanna know what happened, because if she did
she could picture it, but she walks so slow and her
imagination runs just like a little kid. i sit with
my guitar and i write photographs of emotion, but when
the meaningful becomes trite, i need to remind myself
that that love was not just a phase. and the memory
it stays and the rhythm it lays in my bed. woven into
the threads of my sleeping pants and what is that i'm
wearing under that.
the
last six years with my wife and my mistress. the music
it was the music it was the music it is.
12.
Maybe
why
the hell did you move far away, to california? everything
here was as nice as bathwater. honestly, i want you
to be happy, but not happy without me. it all continues
to mean nothing without you.
maybe
maybe maybe if i could trick her next to a guitar maybe
she could, maybe she would fall for me
a
little but smaller than the moon, this crowded room.
every time she tries to hide i can find her. she's
2 inches taller than me (i think), but she said i was
so smooth, but i forgot your name, i think it starts
with a "k". do you have a nickname?
please
don't make me sleep alone when it's thundering. please
don't play this song on the radio. please tell me when
we will meet again. please unlock this vault of songs
in my head. please give me what i need, a little company.
please tell me what it is bothering you. please catch
me in the act. please don't pass. please let me dance
to this groove.
13.
The complete opposite of a boy band
don't
get me confused with one of those five member pretty
boy groups. they all seem way too contrived to be true.
no not i that's not me, it's not he that she sees,
she sees pirouettes caught in silhouettes. one of these
days some hollywood big shot has got to write a movie
about us.
the
pain is not painted, truth not airbrushed. scar above
my lip and my hair's messed up. clothes from a thrift
shop, once, twice, three. you'll never see this face
on a teen magazine.
the
complete opposite of a boy band, cuz i write my own
words and play my own instruments. could it be somehow
that this lack of choreography is somehow holding me
back. you gotta believe me when i say, all of the movement
is behind my eyes.
i
think i found it in the drunk drawer. she left me wanting
less and i left her wanting more. another poem, but
i'll try to keep it short, i never wrote about this
girl before. and then she said to me that i am starting
to sound like one of those cute boy bands. i'm not
a scam, i'm not a map (a tiger beat blueprint) at a
newsstand.
14.
Ears, eyes, and my heart
something
like you've never heard. with this unsteady flow of
emotional security. convey, much to the chagrin that
it is slowly taking over me. i will carry my character
on my back to chicago with no shoes and shirtless.
you were right when you said that this would be different.
ears
eyes and my heart. the kind of emotion you can only
feel by blowing apart into a bazillion and one pieces.
i'd like to draw this parallel into this ground with
this stick with this piece of this music.
she's
the tilt o whirl and i am the eyelash.
forty-seven
minutes away. this speech of fire in my chest rests.
one hundred and ninety-three steps. it's the beat of
the song like the beat of a drum. thunder and lightning
storms are my playgrounds. fingernail biting and writing
some sounds. she clothes my tongue with the words of
love.
she's
the extravagant rodeo and i am the clown. she's the
beautiful silence and i am the sound.
15.
Anthony
this
angel anthony likes to role-play. woke up from a daydream
in the middle of the night. he dreamed that he was
human and living on earth, just like everyone else.
it was fun, he said, i'm not use to feeling potential
and i would love to do it again.
all
of the other angels laughed when he said, he said,
i did not want my dream to end. squeezed shut his eyes
and tried to fall back asleep. he said, please, let
me continue my dream. less than perfect he didn't mind
being. he said please let me continue my dream.
rachel
told anthony to hold her hand. she said you don't understand
what you're saying. you would be a fool to give up
all of this and the consequence you cannot understand.
rica giggled and charles asked, he said, why would
you want to be a living man. jessica looked away and
rolled in the grass. dakota snapped and covered his
face from the flash as anthony became the most famous
ex-angel.
up
in the clouds, he would rather be me. he said please
let me continue my dream.
16.
,but I still remember
maybe
it's better if you don't understand. maybe i don't
know what i'm saying again. maybe i'm running circles
deep inside my self. i can try, but i cannot help
myself. maybe what i'm saying is fading cuz i'm thinking
and sinking and drinking and singing.
yes
she is and she has venus flytrap like eyelashes.
she's
forgotten, but i still remember.
i'm
the one that never touches. one that gives, but never
gets. i'm not her lover, i'm just one of her crutches.
little less than fire, little more like this. twice
together, once apart, and now she's his. i'm trying
to find out where i've been.
the
door was ajar, but in retrospect i should've knocked,
now i wish i could forget. flip myself upside-down
and shake around, i will still remember, cuz i'm not
an etch a sketch. the pages of our novel look thinner
to the left than to the right. to the side that has
already been read.
17.
Catch in my breath
she
makes me pace in circles. she makes me stumble into
walls. she begs me to blow her name into oak and requests
that it be carved into the sky. she dawns grey sometimes,
she wore gray wednesday, and her clothes are often
tight and feels like snow this evening.
let's
see how many snowflakes i can catch in my breath. if
you want me to i can easily catch them with somebody
else.
what
did you think about the experience? was it comparable
to an alcoholic shot? she doesn't wanna draw flowers
like everybody else. her mouth is open and her eyes
are shut. she dreams dreams of being famous more than
anything. more than anything i do not understand her
reasoning so i say to her, what do you think about
this experience, this experience with me.
i
hope she's breathing in what i just said. on my chest,
asleep she fell. harmonica in closet, guitar under
bed. her voice is silent, but screaming in my head.
here's another song, i took a little break. i took
a little break, to bathe in the sun, but now i'm home
and i'm feeling cold. i feel more at home when i'm
alone.
18.
She requests the sun
the
pressure between paper and pen, like the heimlich maneuver
stomach to chest. you can try to clean up the mess
inside of me with a drawn out conclusion like a game
of chess. she likes to take out all of the trash, not
realizing that there is a lot left under my bed. my
closet is filled with many things i'll never wear again.
she
could be anywhere else in the world, but instead she's
here. she could be with anyone else in the world, but
instead she's with me. i will sleep in your bed with
all of these lyrics and all of these notes she said.
just give me the sun boy. you've gotta let me read
through the pages of your diary if you want to call
it love.
the
same way she waits for a telephone ring, she calls
late to make sure i'm sleeping alone. priceless are
places you can be yourself and fame is on the faces
of everybody else. lora sleeps, lora sighs.
she's like a lois lane in disguise. super guitar
man is clark kent again, mild mannered college student.
19.
I would promise to call you up again
please
don't talk above my head. let's communicate on the
most basic of levels. so anyway, what's your name?
don't know what to say, how about the truth. if i fall
in love another time today what should i do?
let's
wash our hands together in a sink and shower together
in the rain. if we actually hit it off, i would promise
to call you up again.
mona
lisa. can you please kick him to the curb cuz you're
a big girl with a very big pair of very big scissors.
lets not waste time watching t.v., unsolved mystery
or reruns of webster. you will rarely win a race against
the wind. when you're single you want to be in a relationship,
and when you're in a relationship you wanna be single
again, cuz it's more fun not giving a shit.
little
lisa, you know my favorite color is orange, and i see
that you've got that color on. what i really want is
to see that color off.
it
seems i dream dreams of time machines because she cut
me quick like the light of a laser beam. she loved
gold and silver, i loved sunshine and rain, but then
the rainstorm hit eighty-three ninety-four ways.
20.
Her hair color was different back then
some
of these words have already been said, but please allow
me to refresh. if i haven't made my point yet, i'll
just write another line. she was right, she said the
time would go by, and now i wonder why the seasons
never seem to change they seem to rewind my mind and
remind me of a time i was hers she was mine. i was
her boy and she was my girl.
it
all starts to make sense twelve months after the fact,
her hair color was different back then.
you're
cutting your nose off in spite of your face. you're
cool as a cucumber, but nutty like fruit cake. the
voice of reason makes you say, makes you act, makes
you play, makes you think in cliché.
at
the mercy of my emotions, but some confuse it as genius.
was it love? was it lust? did it last longer than a
month? yes it did. yes it does. it's my eyes and it's
my touch. my love loves to love long without reasons,
as much as i love the different seasons, and the change,
but i still remember september, october, november,
december all with a girl.
21.
Everyone keeps asking me who Melissa is
if
anyone asks you never saw me. this never happened.
i pinballed all around the room seventeen times.
i fell on the floor and it hurt. i'd have to say
these last four days have been the worst. you keep
reading and reading my words, and then you say they
don't mean a thing.
it's
getting late. the sun is coming up. black to blue,
just like you and your name came up again. more than
a fling you were a friend. more than anything you
started this. and you get pissed when i use your
real name and roll your eyes when it is in the lyrics.
everyone
keeps asking me who melissa is. i said, i do not
know, but the worst part is that this is all of my
fault.
everything
from a smell to a shiver down your spine. i'm on
the verge of writing my best stuff in a long time.
gonna get in my car gonna drive gonna hide, not gonna
stay. gonna live to write some songs some other day.
everyone keeps throwing themselves at heather, but
i'd rather throw myself at someone else.
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