lyrics to a few songs i wrote. enjoy.
"Pregnancy, 1953"
"you have some nerve"
"being black in this part of town"
my wayworn trumpet
case hit the ground
fatigued street corner
coruscates with traffic and siren bulbs
the forlorn moonlight
watches on as the cement sulks
uniformed savage
brandishing as he's enervating me
a glimmering pistol
hits my hind leg as i'm supplicating
peaceful solutions
are ignored by the vocation of sedition
tasting my own blood
vituperation yields no submission
[chorus:]
one index finger on the trigger
and the other's on your pulse
if i have to die, i'm taking everyone
within an earshot along (repeat)
the only bystanders
were parked cars and the metal trees
"in the wrong place"
"at the wrong time? that's a felony"
but i am a scholar
not a street-dweller, burglar or a thug
sluggish movements
and the dash of blood underneath my gloves
[chorus]
"Don't Mind Me, I'm Just Unconscious (revision)"
i was in between your crosshairs
underneath an orange sky
you saw my heart adorned with cheap bandages
with callused fingers and black eyes
beneath the subtle percussion
of gunshots and exploding grenades
you exclaimed, "manifest destiny is treacherous"
those bastards looked at you, betrayed
[chorus:]
tomorrow's a sleeping pill away
as selfish as that may seem
goodbye, consciousness
hello, girl of my dreams
we were born on a barstool
among deputies and outlaws
you slid down my favorite pitcher of poision
knowing i wasn't thirsty at all
as we exchanged illusions
disputes sailed through smoky skies
i proceded to seize my trusty revolver friend
clutching your heart, i robbed you blind
[chorus]
[break]
[chorus 2x]
"Lullaby for a Retired Model"
i stayed awake between my sheets last evening
to prevent myself from dreaming about your kiss
sometimes, i stay unconscious too much
a vessel sailing in a cloudy mist
pick up your ink pen and write me a sonnet
and i'll sing you a hagiography
unflattering words subject to omission
magniloquent gestures and clotted speech
i stayed awake between my sheets last evening
hoping for fugacious moments in the grass
you, me, a blanket, some partially dressed words
and a photo for every trolley car that passed
the freeway kissed you and you never looked back
to see my chest tied neatly into knots
light rain gently massaged my overcoat
as i lovingly nuzzled the pavement blocks
carnivores behind photographic lenses
look both ways before crossing (refrain)
pick up your ink pen and write me a sonnet
and i'll sing you a hagiography
"Flood Party"
cigarette smoke
lingers in artificial light
if three's a crowd,
then fifteen's an audience
i smile and shake hands
hoping desperately
that we don't run
out of alcohol anytime soon
the sun has easy workdays
during tragic natural disasters
mr. daniels lets us address
him by his first name
scarves and neckties
strangling myself with
fashion; nooses with pricetags
my cardigan sweater smells like cologne
that lawyers wear to impress their lovers
[chorus:]
a conclave of hydrogen and oxygen
where little boys who can't swim run away with Jesus
bottoms up; let's get drunk
and pretend that we have something to celebrate
surrounded by survival kits
and half-empty cans of vegetables
we mourn the dead; because they weren't alive
long enough to betray us
[chorus 2x]
"Pregnancy, 1953"
"you have some nerve"
"being black in this part of town"
my wayworn trumpet
case hit the ground
fatigued street corner
coruscates with traffic and siren bulbs
the forlorn moonlight
watches on as the cement sulks
uniformed savage
brandishing as he's enervating me
a glimmering pistol
hits my hind leg as i'm supplicating
peaceful solutions
are ignored by the vocation of sedition
tasting my own blood
vituperation yields no submission
[chorus:]
one index finger on the trigger
and the other's on your pulse
if i have to die, i'm taking everyone
within an earshot along (repeat)
the only bystanders
were parked cars and the metal trees
"in the wrong place"
"at the wrong time? that's a felony"
but i am a scholar
not a street-dweller, burglar or a thug
sluggish movements
and the dash of blood underneath my gloves
[chorus]
"Don't Mind Me, I'm Just Unconscious (revision)"
i was in between your crosshairs
underneath an orange sky
you saw my heart adorned with cheap bandages
with callused fingers and black eyes
beneath the subtle percussion
of gunshots and exploding grenades
you exclaimed, "manifest destiny is treacherous"
those bastards looked at you, betrayed
[chorus:]
tomorrow's a sleeping pill away
as selfish as that may seem
goodbye, consciousness
hello, girl of my dreams
we were born on a barstool
among deputies and outlaws
you slid down my favorite pitcher of poision
knowing i wasn't thirsty at all
as we exchanged illusions
disputes sailed through smoky skies
i proceded to seize my trusty revolver friend
clutching your heart, i robbed you blind
[chorus]
[break]
[chorus 2x]
"Lullaby for a Retired Model"
i stayed awake between my sheets last evening
to prevent myself from dreaming about your kiss
sometimes, i stay unconscious too much
a vessel sailing in a cloudy mist
pick up your ink pen and write me a sonnet
and i'll sing you a hagiography
unflattering words subject to omission
magniloquent gestures and clotted speech
i stayed awake between my sheets last evening
hoping for fugacious moments in the grass
you, me, a blanket, some partially dressed words
and a photo for every trolley car that passed
the freeway kissed you and you never looked back
to see my chest tied neatly into knots
light rain gently massaged my overcoat
as i lovingly nuzzled the pavement blocks
carnivores behind photographic lenses
look both ways before crossing (refrain)
pick up your ink pen and write me a sonnet
and i'll sing you a hagiography
"Flood Party"
cigarette smoke
lingers in artificial light
if three's a crowd,
then fifteen's an audience
i smile and shake hands
hoping desperately
that we don't run
out of alcohol anytime soon
the sun has easy workdays
during tragic natural disasters
mr. daniels lets us address
him by his first name
scarves and neckties
strangling myself with
fashion; nooses with pricetags
my cardigan sweater smells like cologne
that lawyers wear to impress their lovers
[chorus:]
a conclave of hydrogen and oxygen
where little boys who can't swim run away with Jesus
bottoms up; let's get drunk
and pretend that we have something to celebrate
surrounded by survival kits
and half-empty cans of vegetables
we mourn the dead; because they weren't alive
long enough to betray us
[chorus 2x]