The Whoops Goddamn Blues

It's raining pretty hard outside, the water's seeping through; i should've paid the 10 bucks for the nicer pair of shoes. It's getting fucking cold outside, I don't got much to do but sit here at this piece of shit and write a minor blues.I held her hair back and she thought that it was love. i tried to shoot the shit but whoops goddamn, i shot the dove. I've tried these metaphors before, and once more is enough...it's hard to win it every time when every time's a bluff.Missy told me, missy told me, missy told me thrice, don't drink too much, but if you do for god's sake keep the ice...well, its getting fucking cold outside, and the frozen drops of dew are to say the least inviting, since they have no other use; i'm in no mood for beauty, striking or sublime. I got no money in the bank, and i ain't got the time. So light me up a cigarette, steal away my lungs. I'm at the last verse anyway, the chord progression's done.

Veni, Vidi, Vodka

“I’m coming home…don’t wait up, mom, I’m alone.” And oh, how the echoes of these easy lies make their way through the phone. Time won’t slow this quickly creeping cold; I’m not coming home tonight.

Veni, Vidi, Vodka…odd that every song should sound the same. Make me believe God can hide in bottles, then maybe I’ll pray. I know right and I know wrong, but who the hell am I? I’m not coming home tonight.

Who told you rising without me was okay to do? Ooh, sorry I assumed…but Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun, you must be tired too. Let the rain come round, water down these drinks I pound; I’m not coming home tonight.

Veni, Vidi, Vodka…odd that every song should sound the same. Make me believe God can hide in bottles, then maybe I’ll pray. I know right and I know wrong, but who the fuck am I? I’m not coming home tonight.

Young and Ordinary

Wordless conversation in the backseat of the car between me and Lady Luck; but now she’s looking for somebody new she can fuck and I rue getting too greedy too soon. Now she’s posing downtown, cigarette in her frown, she moonlights as headlights ignite the sad sight of my loss.
Shadow still scares me, love. Can’t you see I am young and ordinary?
The boardwalk is dark now
And I’m going home.

I can fight the midnight, take a cold shower to wash wanton dreams from my skin; but they’re deep in. How I wish this were shallow, I wish this were shallow and I
Hanged from the gallows for days before you cut me down…but I don’t like the ground. It’s cold and it’s hard and it’s lonely so lonely and I…
Shadow still scares me, love. Can’t you see I am young and ordinary?
The boardwalk is dark now
And I’m going home.

Say Go

Carrie, puffing on a cigarette, never wary of the dawn’s regret, kisses me once again with a hey-oh! Shoot a round and say go. That’s the way it goes oh wait my clothes are not close but we are. We are such terrible people, with our consciences in a flask; one sip too hardened and feeble. But I only want to drink with you…I’d only want to drink with you.

Steer me. Our designated driver can’t be found. Growing weary of no thoughts aloud as your Dionysian charm still whispers hey-oh! Shoot a round and say go. That’s the way it goes oh wait my clothes are not close but we are. We are such terrible people, with our consciences in a flask; one sip too hardened and feeble. But I only want to drink with you…I’d only want to drink with you.

Lately, I’ve been thinking maybe I’ve been wrong, along with all the armies, arms raised strong; while they’re throwing stones, we’re throwing smiles with a hey-oh! Shoot a round and say go. That’s the way it goes, oh but I know that its close but we aren’t such terrible people, with our consciences in a flask; one sip too hardened and feeble. But I only want to drink with you…I’d only want to drink with you.

Pirouettes

Paid my debts, compliments for pirouettes
And lying post-duet, “all I know is I have no regrets.”
So she said as she rose from her rose red bedspread
I let her know I’d let her go, expecting better luck to show
I set my hopes to rest with the rest of the dope on her bedside table;
A lovely bowl of dreams to hold…I’ve smoked since I was 10 years old.
I should quit but I’m not able.

Your side of the mattress is cold and so flat, less the weight of your heat next to mine, it’s
Easily ninety degrees in this room, but I think I might freeze without you…alone we entwine.

I watched her sleep, a quixotic pastime to keep, I know. But Oh, the realist seeps into my bones…so I walked as she dreamed and seemed to talk of lips locked.
I let her know I’d let her go, expecting better luck to show
I set my hopes to rest with the rest of the dope on her bedside table;
A lovely bowl of dreams to hold…I’ve smoked since I was 10 years old.
I should quit but I’m not able.

Your side of the mattress is cold and so flat, less the weight of your heat next to mine, it’s
Easily ninety degrees in this room, but I think I might freeze without you…alone we entwine.

Reflecting through empty wine glasses, the morning light shines through the door. I follow the source till my bed [heart] isn’t yours and my conscience burns no more.

Mr. Morgan

Mr. Morgan, I remember when we were first introduced…twenty minutes later I was pretty damn juiced and I’ve gotten used to facing more proof than I would choose. And you’re always there with the evidence, always helping me drink in reverence for those lost at sea…Oh, Mr. Morgan, you’re the captain for me.

And she just walked in through the door
(Come on and hit me again!)
So sail me farther from the shore
(Come on…) while my
Heart is on my sleeve
And my shirt is on the floor
I’ll steal one kiss or four or ten
Give my regards to Mr. Morgan

Mr. Morgan, you’ve helped me meet more girls than I can recall. No, really, the memories stop at the bathroom stall. Names and numbers blend with faces and diseases, swirling all together like one of these Bay Breezes. And you’re always there with the evidence, always helping me drink in reverence for those lost at sea…Oh, Mr. Morgan, you’re the captain for me.

And she just walked in through the door
(Come on and hit me again!)
So sail me farther from the shore
(Come on…) while my
Heart is on my sleeve
And my shirt is on the floor
I’ll steal one kiss or four or ten
Give my regards to Mr. Morgan

Oh Mr. Morgan, it was you and me and the cop makes three in the parking lot behind the bar. We made clever conversation leading to a year’s probation but…I’ve still got a couple bottles in the car, it’s not far and your hazy semblance is always here with the evidence, With another swig, it’s so evident…I am lost at sea…Oh Mr. Morgan, you’re the captain for me.

And she just walked out through the door
(Come on and hit me again!)
So sail me farther from the shore
(Come on…) and my
Heart stays on my sleeve
As I’m passed out on the floor
Alone with retrospect and a bottle but the bottle still holds more
Give my regards to Mr. Morgan.

Just to Hear You Say

Just to hear you say (lyrics: Mike & James Glasgow)

What if I met you in a hurricane? The wind would throw our hair around and round again, and if you said I love you, then the words would just blow away. I would go anywhere just to hear you say…

What if I met you on a cold winter’s day? So numb, you couldn’t feel the kisses on your face; and if you said “I love you,” then the words would just freeze in place.

Just one more kiss, don’t spread your lips; I know everything, everything, every word you won’t breathe eases an empty peace into every sigh I heave. I can deny, still dignified, that all this time I fly on lies…still I would go anywhere just to hear you say…

What if I met you in the deep Deep South? Magnolia blossoms hanging heavy on the bough…and If you said “I love you,” then the words would just melt in your mouth.

What if I met you on a turtle’s back? We’d walk in endless circles, tracing out the cracks. I’d lose the minutes, hours, days, while praying that you might say…I would go anywhere just to hear you say…