THE POET'S PAYDAY

I'll get the ball rolling by posting the lyrics to my newest song, THE POET'S PAYDAY.

He said to she, “I’m a poet on payday”
She said to he, “I’m a hooker on shore leave.”
As night turned to day, their words weren’t all spent yet
So they spent another night and a day.

And at dawn he found the courage to say,
“No other hooker’s made me feel quite this way,
I’m enamored of your diction and the way your legs splay
I’m enraptured with your syntax and the way your hips sway,”

She said, “I’m in love with the fact that soon you’ll go away,”
She said, “I’m in love with the fact that soon you’ll go away,”

He said, “you’re my muse, from you I never could go.”
He said, “you’re my muse, from you I never could go.”

She said, “Other men have tried to love me, body and mind,
four went crazy and two went blind,
eight pillaged convents, one carved carousel horses,
three made shoes for birds, four committed murder and were remorseless,
and all of them recanted at the foolishness
of loving a hooker for the wit in her kiss.”

He said to she, “I am sick at the heart,”
She said to he, “At noon we shall part,”
As the sun rose higher, their desire wasn’t spent yet,
So they spent one more night and a day.

And at dawn she found the courage to say,
“No other poet’s made me feel quite this way,
I’m entranced by your assonance and your ballads risque,
I’m ensnared by your knowledge of Neruda and Dante,”

He said, “I promise that I will never go away,”
He said, “I promise that I will never go away,”

She said, “I’m afraid that I’ll destroy you if you don’t go,”
She said, “I’m afraid that I’ll destroy you if you don’t go”

She said, “Other men have tried to love me, body and mind,
four went crazy and two went blind,
eight pillaged convents, one carved carousel horses,
three made shoes for birds, four committed murder and were remorseless,
and all of them recanted at the foolishness
of loving a hooker for the wit in her kiss.”

He said to she, “I’m a fool and I’m staying,”
She said to he, “dear heart, I believe you.”
As days turned to weeks, their love wasn’t spent yet
So they spent one more night and a day.
Over and over again.

___

This song was pretty much directly inspired by listening to The Decemberists, and born out of my longing to expand my writing scope--I do write an awful lot of first person autobiography songs, and while this song is lifted from my life emotionally, it is expressed in a much more stylized, story-like way.

Plus I enjoy the word-play, especially the sort of dirty sound that "assonance" has.