Wild City

Leave a comment

Wild city, all your windows have eyes.
Wild city, what do you see tonight?

Wild city, tell me what I should feel.
Wild city, whose secret will you reveal?

Wild city, before I tell you good-bye,
I want to be your lover;
please take me for a ride.

You were my sunshine.
You were my rain.
You were everything I feared to lose,
but never gained.

Tonight the avenue is so beautiful.
The yellow moon is hanging full and low,
like a traffic light,
telling me I have to go.

Advertisements

Black Beer

Leave a comment

(From the ill-fated Beacon EP) 11/21/12

When she poured me my third glass of  black beer,
I must admit I looked into her blue eyes.
She looked deep in thought,
as she watched the cream rise.
And in the sweet silence,
we shared a friendly smile.

When she poured me my fourth glass of black beer,
I must admit I might have been pushing it.
Then some friends of hers came in,
and they laughed and talked.
And one of them put some death metal on the jukebox.
It was then I realized just how young she was;
it was then I realized just how young she was.

As I pretended to look at the bottles of liquor on the shelf,
I caught a glimpse in the mirror
of myself.
It was then I realized just how old I am;
it was then I realized just how old I am.

So I left my glass half empty
and went softly into the night.
I walked along the edge of a creek,
and looked at the stars in the sky.
It was so dark and quiet,
and I felt so alone.
It was so dark and quiet,
and I felt so alone.

Come This Summer

Leave a comment

(From the ill-fated Beacon EP) 11/21/12

No bearable audio clip.

Come this summer,
I’m gonna have it all figured out.

Like where my heart is,
where my home is;
is it with you?
Where my thoughts are,
how long or how far,
can I go with you.

Come this summer,
I’m gonna have it all figured out.
When this cold is over,
and I’m a little older.

Where my love is,
where my life is;
is it with you?
Where my thoughts are,
how close or how far,
can I go with you.

Come this summer.
When this freeze is over.

Astoria

Leave a comment

Astoria,
the Greeks got it made.
They fled from their ruins,
and chose you for their graves.
Your cost is so high;
the struggle is the same.
Oh, Astoria, free your slaves.

Astoria.

It will always be
the Triboro.
The skyline promises
a better tomorrow.

The Hellgate dirty river
in their young veins:
kids are getting high,
and everything seems the same.

The church bells strike
on Ditmars Boulevard;
widows still dressed in black,
cross their lonely hearts.

Their aging sons
watch young girls walk by.
History is sold
for another coffee shop.

Astoria,
the Greeks are betrayed.
They saved you from ruin,
but you’ve changed your face:
the hookah pipes,
the hipster babes.
Oh, Astoria, free your slaves.

Astoria.

It Was My Last One

Leave a comment

What do you do about the pregnant lady in a fur coat?
Do you give up your seat, or do you just let her stand?
She’s a killer.
She’s a mother of life.

What do you do about the girl scout who cusses out all the time?
Do you call her out, or do you just buy her cookies?
She’s a criminal.
She’s just a kid.

What do you do about the homeless man who wants a cigarette?
Do you give him one, or do you just go your own way?
It was my last one.
But he aint got twelve bucks.

You’re Doing Fine

Leave a comment

If you can make a song
out of a car alarm,
then you’re doing fine.

If you can ignore
that you’re always gonna be poor,
then you’re doing fine.

But some people can’t relate.
They’ll set up a mother fucking rake
on your face.
Just like Tom and Jerry.
You’ll fall down a manhole
on your roller-skates.
And that shit hurts.

A Fake

Leave a comment

I’m disappearing.
I’m insincere-ing.
I’m miles away.
I’m tired of being a fake.

So many days
in this office malaise.
I just exist
to kiss your excel list.

What will become of me
when I am 43?
Will I still take this seriously?
Will I do the best I can?

What will become of me
when I am 53?
What will my kids think of me?
Will I be a better man?

I take the train
and it’s always the same.
I’m pushed to the brink
and it’s so unlimited.

I’m disappearing.
I’m insincere-ing.
I’m miles away.
I’m tired of being a fake.

Older Entries