Slurs

Moon Rabbit - 4th Of July

From separate rooms I can't unwind.
Don't know if I will sleep tonight.
I’m logical when I fantasize
or go beyond the pale.

I've got ideas but nothing to write.
Day dreaming of another time
while fatalists review paradigms
thinking they could tip the scales.

I wonder where I am meant to be.
The opera house or the armory.
Of all the countless possibilities.
There's still no check in the mail.

I guess I lost all my sense of place.
The simple things I just throw away.
Feel adrift on a crested wave,
thinking of the promised land.

Had too much when I took the stage.
Didn't care for the songs I played.
Hey man, I thought you sounded great.
What's your master plan?

I know it's late but I want to talk.
I know you hate that I’m so critical.
I won't succumb to all those flippant thoughts.
I'll change if you think I can.

I've got a sense of the great unknown
in all these poems or ransom notes.
Maybe I spend too much time alone.
At least that's what my friends say.

Separate Rooms

New Wave

She pines, the times,
have been dramatic.                
Those smoke signals still rolling
off the hill

Down Sherman ave,
where she lights her cigarette.
It's been a while,
but she still got time to kill.

Every station plays
the same old static.
The backseat dreamers
drive to drinking songs.

Up the way,
well, I used to know a quiet place.
But someone had come and claimed it
while I was gone.

And from the corner bars to
the windowsill,
those distant stars,
little wishing wells.
She's wagging 
a crooked finger
at the lord.
Saying I’ll get mine
when you get yours.

She pines
she pines, but it ain't no-one's fault.
There's just nothing here
for your kind after all.

Smoke Signals (Radio Edit)

Shrug my shoulders at the new wave. 
Drink a little in the day. 
kick my feet up on a long chaise 
sleep off everything I can. 

Think I wound up in the wrong place 
When I stole home base. 
I never think about the long game 
When I need a place to land. 

It's all right to be bad sometimes 
To get a little peace of mind. 

There's a lightning on the water front. 
A fire in the west. 
And you, and I, I guess. 

I take up arms against the new age, 
smoke a little for the taste. 
I only travel at my own pace, 
stumbling down the barrio. 

I’m always wearing such a long face. 
Drifting out to space. 
While Serpent charmers in a failed state 
are playing on the radio. 

It's all right to be bad sometimes 
To get a little peace of mind. 

There's a black out in the gallery. 
A murmur in my chest. 
And you, and I, I guess

The New Age (Radio Edit)

Jory Avner is a Singer-songwriter based out of Chicago Illinois. Blending traditional Folk style lyricism and guitar with deeply textured synthesizers and electronic percussion, he strives to create soundscapes that are both atmospherically complex and yet succinct in terms of narrative.

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Jory Avner

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