°lyrics°

On the car ride over 
no one said a word and that’s okay 
we checked in and I swapped rooms with Kate
pooled together one-word responses, rum and lemonade
killing off the plans we entertained

they’re flickering out
irrelevant now
one hit and they’re down   

at the Tulsa show
fucked up the hits to ‘wiretap me’ one last time
the rhythm escaped me but the line
in the second verse put notes to thoughts I can’t define
I wasn’t the only one , the only one who’s

 filtering out  
unwanted sounds 
you were always louder 
cancelling out 
indifferent crowds
now we’re strike-out looking bastards

Checked Out

Came up through maidenhair and stumps of old oaks
and flaming orange and red,
with the loggers pulling cord.
Came to the base of the refrigerated wood,
a little band of spruce
blazed to be cut.

We climbed the talus to a palace of quartz
An anticlinorium geological fort
What kind of mountain gets so turned around?
Do you think that we'll ever make it down?

A rare forest with a vulture overhead
Alicia Daniel said:
'this is precious. let it stand.'
By love, by god, by chance,
this backward wood remains
by the skin of its leaves.

Business is business, and I understand
the company has got to move wood.
Sometimes the data doesn't come on time,
but story and data can rhyme.

Bristol Cliffs '99

Prompt: "A song about a clown who does not want to be a clown."

---------------

A two-door sedan zigs and zags down the freeway
Packed to the brim
Outside a bright yellow smile with headlight eyes
Inside, just a tangle of limbs
Screeches up to the curb and says,
"Get in."

Drops me off at my dressing room where I
Paint a tear down my cheek
Grab my popcorn, check my ticket stub and
Find my way to my seat
At the dunk tank
In the center of the ring

Whose circus is this?
Whose monkeys are these?
Who's driving
Who's driving the clown car?
Is it me?

Start off with some pantomime where I'm
Trapped in a prison of my own creation
Dazzle them by reaching into my sleeve and pulling out and endless tapestry
Of pain and desolation
Yes I'm ringmaster
Of my own humiliation

My two big shoes walk through streets paved with regrets,
Peanut shells, and cigarettes
Gather round now for my final act,
Juggling the fragile remains of my self-respect
And tonight could be the night
But I haven't dropped them yet

"Everyone just wants to be seen," I say,
Donning my bright red nose
"Teamwork makes the dream work," I quip,
From my unicycle perch as I'm pelted with tomatoes

Whose circus is this?
Whose monkeys are these?
Who's driving
Who's driving the clown car?
Is it me?

All I wanted
All I wanted to do
All I wanted
All I wanted to do
All I wanted
All I wanted to do
Was entertain you

Who's Driving The Clown Car?

Prompt: "3 Ways to Blunt a Sword or Knife"

-----------

So they're stabbing in the back
Or they're cutting down to size
They just can't help but twist the knife

Adorning their collections with
Yet another axe to grind
And this goes on for their whole life

You can smile and nod
At the promises they make
But you know they're gonna change
In ways they can't anticipate

Being pulled apart
By their wants and needs
A thousand crossroads, a thousand devils
They're shaking hands with each

They can stop on a dime
Turn around at any time
Just when you've got 'em figured out
They up and change their mind

It's never done
No telling what they'll become
Conflicting tides that swirl inside
That's why you can't trust anyone

So they'll stab you in the heart
And then apologize
And later say that they were nice

Wonder who they really are
Like way deep down inside
Beneath their layered raincoat disguise

Hear noises in the dark
Don't see anything when
You turn on the lights

They can stop on a dime
Turn around at any time
Just when you've got 'em figured out
They up and change their mind

It's never done
No telling what they'll become
Conflicting tides that swirl inside
That's why you can't trust anyone

Can't Trust Anyone

Valerie In The Morning

I remember you waiting for the news
To know if it was over
Hesitantly you asking if it's true
That the world goes on without you
Neither of us cried when Mary-Ellen died.
She was such a bitch, though.
Nasopharyngeal cancer of the neck
What a stupid kind of cancer

Monday on the porch. Why not go to church?
Better late than never 
Then it was me and you smoking in the pew
We called them holy spirits
Edward 40 hands at the Golden Hoosier Bar
No one dared to stop you
Kneeling by the creek in a puddle of puke,
Better this than nothing

I remember sweat, the smell of your neck
when they told me it was over
Prepping vegetables with the Japanese knife
That I stole from you the last time
Staring at the sink, waiting to cry
I thought I heard you joking:
That there are only two ways to dull a knife
You can rust it, or you can thrust it inside

Edward 40 Hands

'Will you pee on me?'
The billboard graffiti
One more night on the cleanup committee
You were good to me
As good as you can be
Taught me how to escape my demons

But they will find you anyway
Find you cowering and scared
They will take you by the hair
and they will whisper in your ear:

There are two ways to dull a knife.
You can rust it where it lies
or you can jam it in your side.

You told the judge that I had not repented.
You could have told her that you loved me.
There's an anger in your hands
When I take them for to dance
To the music of the rubber rubbing violent on the bridge.

At the end of the night
I'll be free, you won't own me anymore
I'll be entirely free and fully alone
How much gas does the pressure washer have?
How much soap to make this clean?
'Go fuck yourself.' 'Suck my cock.' 'For a good time, call ___.'
How much gas does the pressure washer have?

Community Service

Itsgg

lyrics

"if we subscribe to the idea that our anger and our fear 
are truths our hearts will never rid themselves of 
how have we learned to be their guide?"
we all shrink and reappear when the new guy volunteers
with the limp and the quick smile that never thought about making the trip to meet his eyes
he says 
"one thing you can do when someone stomps on you is pretend they're an old friend from school you didn't recognize. You think 'that's just how Matt gets.' It helps to forgive, OR to forget"
His smile widens
"Or you can blast rock radio hits from the turn of the century."
The guy starts singing
"I hate everything about you"
Now he's yelling
"Save me from the nothing I've become"
The counsellor politely coughs
The spell wears off
The new guy stops and sits back down
I keep humming

KISS FM

chapter 1 of a rock opera that i don't have to write the rest of. prompt was "A psychic from Toledo, a Wichita county clerk."

when they founded the jerk-filled town
surrounded by chert-filled hills
they paved the roads and sidewalks
with hospital bills
when the jerks crawled to work
they spread the ink all around
in an alley lurked a county clerk
painting lines on the ground

in the beginning were some words
they were screamed but weren't heard
now they echo in the limitless absurd
and so every living soul
is a part of one big whole
but that whole we are is at least half-full of holes

out walks Mary Jane 
liberating Rite Aid chardonnay
the county clerk has eyes
in a panoptic kind of way
Jane says "reality's a prison
there is no good news in hell
my once-a-week ttrpg is going pretty well"

in the beginning were some words
they were screamed but they weren't heard
"Tom Aquinas is a catastrophic turd"
in the end there was a pain
murmurating through the brain
we were gone before we ever learned its name

but being's the queen
of containing things
chardonnays
minestrones
bracelet charms
antique rings
gatorades
for the soccer teams
piles of twigs
piles of leafs
fudge eggs
and other candies

the beginning

Spacious Barn

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