I don't cry,
I don't lie,
and I like to stay up late.
I have my alibi,
but I like to stay up late.
I stay up past the dawn,
I turn the TV on.
I stay bright through the night.
The days go one by one.

And she was just sleeping through the night,
it's just the way she feels.
And she was just sleeping through the night,
it's just the way she feels.
And she was just sleeping through the night,
it's just the way she feels.
But my dear, I say I disagree.
And she was just sleeping through the night.
But my dear, I say I disagree.
And she was just sleeping through the night.
But my dear, I say I disagree,
it's just the way she feels.

I don't cry,
I don't lie, (it's just the way she feels)
and I like to stay up late.
I have my alibi, (I don't cry, I don't lie)
but I like to stay up late. (it's just the way she feels)
(I stay up past the dawn)(Where have all the children gone?)
The day has carried on.
But my dear, you can sleep,
the time has come to weep.

And you're softly sleeping through the night, there is no use in fighting.
There is no use in crying.

Photo by Elijah Asdourian

I Like To Stay Up Late

It's not the pale moon that excites me,
That thrills and delights me.
Oh, no. It's just the nearness of you.

It isn't our sweet conversation,
That brings this sensation.
Oh, no. It's just the nearness of you.

When you're in my arms,
and I feel you so close to me,
all my wildest dreams come true.

I need no soft light to enchant me,
If you'll only grant me
the right
to hold you ever so tight.
And I feel in the night,
the nearness of you.

(Hoagy Carmichael)

The Nearness of You (Hoagy Carmichael)

The days are quite lonely after you've gone, I run run run run run to you.
My legs get so tired from running so long, but I like to see these things through.
And once it is over I go back to bed, I think think think think think 'till two.

Hey hey, my dear, I miss you so dearly the sunshine has come to an end.
For what was so cloudy I now see so clearly as nighttime does come round the bend.

Yes the loss of the old is the Shock of the New, and baby that's hard to perceive.
And it drives through my soul as I burn through a few Diet Cokes and I beg on my knees.

Can you please rearrange all the thoughts in my head?
And I turn and I thrash and I pull out my hair,
And I don't have a single goddamn thing to wear.

Hey hey, my dear, I think that I love you but those things are hard to explain.
But hey hey, my dear, who else is above you? - and so I will end my refrain.

Illustration by Elijah Asdourian

The Shock of the New

Yes even though I love you, the days they can be long.
And just because I kiss you, it doesn't mean I'm strong.
And when I say I miss you, I will not say goodbye.
No, I'll try, and I'll try, and I'll try.

And when the sun is shining, never celebrate.
Only throw your hands up in the air when it gets late.
Though the dark does not illuminate your face in many ways,
It's okay, it's okay, it's okay.

My Beloved, your mind, it's so byzantine.
But I love it, yes I love it, but sometimes it makes me scream,
and I dream of yesteryear when you could be so insincere,
and I'd hear exactly what I want to hear.

Yes even though I'm falling down a well in an abyss,
just the sound of your voice calling tells me nothing is amiss.
And the thoughts ricocheting through my tiny brain are loud;
they are amalgamating quickly as they pound out every shroud of innocence that my brain once contained,
now excavated from my veins,
poured into a sewer drain,
drowned by every single drop of rain.
After every tragedy let your mind think upon me.
Save me with the sanctity of a mind that always will be free.

My Beloved, your lips, they are across the room.
I sit, eclipsed, banished to my gloom,
and I dream of older times when something simple was sublime
and any innovation was a crime.

Yes my mind can precipitate a storm of acid rain.
The wrath of these dimensions can only cause you pain,
so do not wait in suspension for an ounce of common sense.
Storms pass, and therefore wait for the future to commence.

Your blinking eyes in the corner of the television screen,
they are enough as to remind me of a world that is serene.
No I love your eyes, I love your hair,
but they don't hold a candle to your words.
I collapse atop my feet.
I am lying in the street, resuscitated only when you speak.

Yes to love someone so true,
(I've counted one and it was you)
can kill me but it is worth living through.

Illustration by Elijah Asdourian

My Beloved

Junior Day is my favorite day.
What would I do without The Great Outdoors?

I'm kidding, of course.
Junior Day sucks.
(Everybody knows it sucks.)

Junior Day;
Please scream Juniors! louder.
I couldn't hear you the first 800 times.

Junior Day deserves a modulation.
No it doesn't! Everybody knows it sucks.

Junior Day shut up.

Photo by Dakotah Jennifer

Unlimited Edition Multiple Day Rant (Junior Day)

The city of Paris would be full of naked ladies if they took off all their clothes.
The city of New York would be full of naked men if they all disrobed.

My sweet Paris: Naked in the streets!
New York City: Nudist colony!

The Eiffel Tower would garner more attraction if the ladies all were nude.
The Empire State Building would be a different scene were it full of naked dudes.

Beloved France: You're missing all your pants!
Manhattanite: That's very impolite.
My true bourgeois: What's happened to your bra?
Good old Times Square: Put on some underwear!
Arc de Triomphe: I think that is your rump.
My dearest Queens: I can see your weens!

Walking through Central Park I can see your private parts.
On the Champs-Elysees the ladies are on full display.
Walking through Central Park I can see your private parts./On the Champs-Elysees the ladies are on full display.

The City of Paris by Robert Delaunay

The City of Paris by Robert Delaunay

Calypso-

1
The stone had skidded arc'd and bloomed into islands:
Cuba and San Domingo
Jamaica and Puerto Rico
Grenada Guadeloupe Bonaire

curved stone hissed into reef
wave teeth fanged into clay
white splash flashed into spray
Bathsheba Montego Bay

bloom of the arcing summers...

2
The islands roared into green plantations
ruled by silver sugar cane
sweat and profit
cutlass profit
islands ruled by sugar cane

And of course it was a wonderful time
a profitable hospitable well-worth-you-time
when captains carried receipts for rices
letters spices wigs
opera glasses swaggering asses
debtors vices pigs

O it was a wonderful time
an elegant benevolent redolent time--
and young Mrs. P.'s quick irrelevant crine
at four o'clock in the morning...

3
But what of black Sam
with the big splayed toes
and the shoe black shiny skin?

He carries bucketfulls of water
'cause his Ma's just had another daughter.

And what of John with the European name
who went to school and dreamt of fame
his boss one day called him a fool
and the boss hadn't even been to school...

4
Steel drum steel drum
hit the hot calypso dancing
hot rum hot rum
who goin' stop this bacchanalling?

For we glance the banjoy
dance the limbo
grow our crops by maljo

have loose morals
gather corals
father out neighbour's quarrels

perhaps when they come
with their cameras and straw
hats: sacred pink tourists from the frozen Nawth

we should get down to those
white beaches
where if we don't wear breeches

it becomes an island dance
Some people doin' well
while others are catchin' hell

o the boss gave our Johnny the sack
though we beg him please
please to take 'im back

so now the boy nigratin' overseas...

Kamau Brathwaite

Kamau Brathwaite + Melodica Jam = Yes Please

Xandi, I never meant to hurt you.
Xandi, just like candy.
Xandi, I love you.

Egginton, look at what a state you're in.
How hurt have your feelings been?
Poor little boy.

Xandi, you'll never cry again!
You're the man-di, a ten out of ten.
I love you, but every now and then, I feel so lonely.

Asdourian, look at what a state I'm in.
Without you I'm not worth a thing,
you funny little man-di, candy, Xandi, Xandi!

Xandi, I never meant to hurt you.
Xandi, you're just like candy, Xandi,
I love you.

Xandi

Thank you thank you thank you no thank you thank you thank you thank you have a good day.

One! Seven! Ten! Sixteen!

Dakotah Dakotah Emily Jennifer Jennifer Drachman Drachman.

Thank You No Thank You

Park Jazz Trio

Drums - Daniel Neiman
Bass - Mike Fishman
Piano - Eli Asdourian

Cherokee

Recorda Me

My Favorite Things

All The Things You Are

There are no footprints when I walk, it's on the surface when I talk, and when I think of you everything weeps ancient tears.
There is no meaning to a phrase, I could go on for days like this hoping to recast what was once a love of years.

But life is love, and love is incest, and incest sucks for those involved.
But life is love, and love is regret, and regret stings and isn't solved.

There is no antidote to shit (except perhaps some newer shit, but even that will rot, leaving me to think what could've changed, and of the ways I am deranged, of the ways you are deranged, and how our history wilted after we became estranged.)

But love is work, and work is trying, and trying fails when fate is set.
And love is work, and I was lazy, so who am I to be upset?

There is no strength with which I speak, every word I say is weak, my fortress has no walls and pouring in is a torrential rain.
My power has been repossessed.
I sing from an empty chest.
The edges of my soul are eroding and becoming plain.

You are watching me turn tame, and the fact there was a flame doesn't bother you, coldly skinning the beast you have slain.

Illustration by Elijah Asdourian

When the Shrew Tames

I wake up on my side and my ear is stuck to itself.
I heat up mashed potatoes and I go for the salt on the shelf but there's no salt anymore.
I walk up to the window but I can't seem to figure out the blinds.
I have to write this paper but frustration has colonized my mind and there's no thoughts anymore.

I'm so lost. I'm so lost.

I wanna be a snowman but this carrot won't fit inside my nose.
I went to costume parties but I always had inappropriate clothes.
I have no fun anymore.
I want--always--to see you but I fear that my hair has grown too long.
I'd like to be a writer but it took me a year to write this song and it was better before.

I'm so scared, so beware.

Blockage

Jazz Piano/Songwriter. Follow me if you want! Email me at eliasdourian@gmail.com or yodang2@gmail.com.

bikini amish

Popular tracks