another try

The girl who would be queen
Walks along the shore
The boy who’d be her fool
Leans against her door
And listens to her breathe

The dreamer who was king
Lies in the hospital
The courtesan he loved
Walks down the narrow hall
And wills him to breathe

And I haven’t known you long enough
To count the time in years
But if we keep going as we are
I’ll drown in my own tears
But even Alice could dry her eyes
Take a deep breath and give it
Another try

The poet with the scheming heart
Is often at the bar
The whore who wrote his best work
Was named after a star
And she leaves him room to breathe

The child with the shining eyes
Is swiftly growing old
And the tongue-tied balladeer
Is wishing he was bold
But he can hardly breathe

This one's so new it's still wobbly like a little colt. I think it'll grow into a fine ride someday, though.

I don't know what, or who, it is really about, but just re-reading it and singing it in my head makes me want to put my head in my hands and cry.

I think I'll go to sleep instead.

alternate/additional verse for whisky

So far, Ciso loves it, Adam hates it, and I'm still on the fence.

I guess I just had to accept the challenge to come up with something "better." I don't know if it is better; it certainly is different, and fits the tone of the song well, I suppose.

"if you were walking, I'd be your footsteps
if you were dying, I'd be your last breath
if you would love me even though I'm not perfect
the world would seem new again"

Meh. I think the last line is a little weak.

Whatever.

Things

In this song, I was trying to capture that hazy and half-awake state you find yourself in after dreaming about a past girlfriend - a relationship that should have worked out but didn't, etc....
After the first version, I wanted to lighten it up a little and make it less "suicide-y", so I included the someday I'll see part to the chorus.

THINGS


i have the worst dreams
i dream the worst things
a wave of your hand
the turn of your head from a distance

i save the least things
the things-i-need-least-things
the song of your sigh
the dance of your breath in December

they wander and drift through the door
intruders i cannot ignore

then i hear the worst things
your voice in the morning
calling to me
invitations to sleep a little longer

the answers i never could get
the stain that has not lifted yet

but that’s just me
someday i’ll see
the world wakes up
and moves on

i lose the worst things
colors and shadings
the purpose and drive
to fill in a new frame come tomorrow

i want the worst things
bad worse and worst things
filling my head with the false-alarm red of a sunset

they wander and drift out the door
deserters i cannot ignore

but that’s just me
someday i’ll see
the world wakes up
and moves on. (c)2002 DAVE DONOVAN

one in progress

Still tinkering with this. One version is done; it was written for a novel an old professor of mine is writing, but had to be written for a thirteen year old character. I've redone the verses a lot, and I think I'm starting to get the hang of it now.

THE LONG WAY HOME (11/28/05 version)

In the room next to mine in this transient hotel
there's a girl who's called Emily
When I forget to light the candles, as I frequently do
she comes in and lights them for me
She says "you'd be lost if you didn't have me"
and tenderly touches my hand
as I stare out the window at the faces in the moon
and say my prayers as well as I can
I have never been lost
I have never been lost
I have never been lost
I've just taken the long way home

I feel like I grew old waiting
for the bus on water street
wandering around the telephone pole
under the late august heat
Emily says that's it's sort of profound
every time she sees me out there
wandering around in circles
but not getting anywhere
but I have never been lost
I have never been lost
I have never been lost
I've just taken the long way home


So I sat in a bar with the wood panelled walls
and looked at all the other people yesterday
While I was watching them, Emily was watching me
staring at my face, while the radio played
a song about traveling and coming home
I stepped to the floor and I danced my way across
everyone there was just passing through
but we have never been lost


Sometimes I feel like a hitchiking ghost
constantly fading away
but right now I feel how Abraham felt
when he first set out that day
I have never been lost
I have never been lost
I have never been lost
I've just taken the long way home

Big Blank Space

Why is there a huge empty space at the top of our blog page lately?
My right index finger is threatening to go on strike because he is tired of the extra scrolling required.

Sure - there is war in the Middle East, natural disasters ravaging the planet, a looming energy crisis, and so forth. But I am tired of the un-necessary scrolling.

Does anyone feel my pain ?

New York Rain

I'm an "editor" - and this song is a good example as to why. The chorus came first, over a year before the rest. I wrote a few verses for it and nearly recorded it for "Suburban Post-Modernist," but the verses I had for it just didn't work the way I wanted them to. It wasn't til I stuck on some lines from an old, long-abandoned song in the chorus that it started to take shape, and the verses finally came around a good year or so after the rest. And version 2.0 is about a million times better than the original, which had the same first line, then veered off into small-town "surruralism." It's still a bit surrural, but much more cohesive.

NEW YORK RAIN

How're you doing, Jane? I'm just watching the news
it says it's coming down where you are and it sounds like it's true
you always kinda liked it when things were coming down around you
Lately I've been thinking of asking you guys
to send back all my letters, they're all just lies
that I don't want published in some collection after my demise.
Every now and then when I go downtown
I throw money at the yuppies just to see them bow
like we always used to do, Jane, do you still remember how?
If I have an old soul, that's just because they're cheaper used
and my feet always hurt and I'm always tired - these old ones always break on you
 
       CHORUS
 There's nothing down this road but an old abandoned bar
 and a church that's been boarded up forever
 I've been sitting watching TV news in my underwear all night

 and I just called up to ask you one quick favor:
 Won't you hold the phone
 up to the window, Jane?
 So I can hear the sound
 Of the New York rain

I saw a naked girl who looked like you today
in the window of a brownstone on Juniper Lane
but she was only there for half a second before she turned away
Do you still have that jacket that hung down to the floor
that your grandmother sent you just before the war?
Speaking of that, Kevin's back, but he doesn't look much like he did before.
You know that empty lot by the pizza place
on Cedar Avene that used to be the arcade?
I wrote my name in the dust just to watch it blow away.
Dust is all that's left of the old downtown today
the new neighborhoods are built without any sidewalk and all I ever think about is getting away
 CHORUS
 
Just one more thing, did you ever know
that the night you first left three years ago
I was standing there watching as your footprints slowly filled with snow?
 CHORUS

the whisky song (expectations)

if you were some whisky I'd taste you
if you were lots of money I'd waste you
if you were an outline I'd trace you
and fill you in again

if you were lost, I would find you
if you were tired of looking I'd blind you
if you'd forgotten, I could remind you
that some girls are worth fighting for

and if you came to my door,
I'd let you in without hesitation
even though all my lovers before
have failed to meet my great expectations
I've been a fool for so many men
there's really no reason not to do it again with you
with you

if you were sleepy I'd be your pillow
if you were weeping I'd be your willow
if you needed a chariot I'd swing low
and take you home again

(chorus)

(repeat first & second verses)

and if you came to my door,
I'd let you in without hesitation
even though all my lovers before
have failed to meet my least expectations
I've been a fool for so many men
I'm really quite eager to do it again with you
with you

___

I still remember the day that I wrote this...it was on a rainy spring day, and I was walking down Hartrey in Evanston, on my way to work. The first line used to be "if you were a raindrop I'd taste you" which seemed sort of schmaltzy compared to the other lines that followed, so I changed "raindrop" to "whiskey" and thus made some sort of local history...

Something about this song--be it melody, or lyric, or my performance of it--seems to speak to people, and affect them deeply. All I really wanted to do was write a love song--a seduction song, really; this song was supposed to turn a boy's head and cause him to notice me--that was a bit, well, subversive. Some of the things the "I" would do are a little...um...well, "if you were tired of looking I'd blind you"? Take it as you will. I wanted to express that I'll pretty much do anything for love, as long as I get to do it in my own quirky, humor so black it's almost ultraviolet sort of way.

The "I" is so complex, and a little bit frightening--and perhaps infuriating--but there's an undercurrent of sweetness, and a desire to please, to love and be loved, and a willingness to take a risk, that I think a lot of people find appealing.

It's either this song or "Porn Zoo" that's going to be the song on which my legacy rests.

I hope it's this one, even though "Porn Zoo" is damn catchy.

The Singer But Not the Songs

Here's the current, with some footnotes for varied lines, as requested. When a line has changed, it's really just because I thought up a better one.

THE SINGER BUT NOT THE SONGS

I know which ring she wears on which finger each day of the week
And I know why she holds me as gently as a priceless antique
I know why she reminds me of poems built from leftover rhymes (1)
Why she puts on her socks and her shoes one foot at a time (2)
But I don’t know how she wears a floor length coat without dragging it along (3)
And I don’t know how she can love the singer
And I don’t know how she can love the singer
And I don’t know how she can love the singer but not the songs


I know exactly how long she likes her tea bag to steep
And just what she wants to hear most before she falls asleep
I know what it means when she adds one more name to her list (4) (6) *
And she doesn’t think I do, but I know just what’s clenched in her fist (5)
But I don’t know why she laughs at my jokes when the punchlines are wrong
And I don’t know how she can love the singer
And I don’t know how she can love the singer
And I don’t know how she can love the singer but not the songs

In my craft and sullen art I sit and labor all day (7)
The phony rubies in her necklace brush the table as she sways
And her eyes are like burned out wheatfields with smoke rising through the snow (8)
The music that she loves the best gets inside me and follows wherever I go

I know why she drives like she’s trying to get us both killed
What she does with the porcelain angels she buys at Goodwill (9)
I know why she throws away her days like old burned out lights (10) *
And I know why she sneaks out of bed and sits on the roof late at night
But I don’t know what she’ll remember about me after I’m gone *
And I don’t know how she can love the singer
And I don’t know how she can love the singer
And I don’t know how she can love the singer but not the songs


1 - formerly "I know why the roads rise to meet her when she goes outside"
2 - teehee. this is from an episode of All in the Family
3 - this jacket turns up in a lot of my songs, now that I think about it.
4 - couplet was originally "I know why she sits beneath the El tracks and watched the train / and how she always knows exactly the moment that it's going to rain"
6 - was later "I know why she reminds me of songs that may not exist." Changed for two reasons. 1. it clashed with the new line about "poems built from leftover lines," which I thought was much better, and 2. I sort of stole it. From Grandpa Simpson.
7 - from "in my craft or sullen art / exercised in the still night / when all the lovers lie abed / and only the moon rages" by Dylan Thomas.
8 - a leftover from an old song of mine called "Where the Sagebrush Grows." I think the lyrics are on adamselzer.com
9 - used to be "why she breaks the wings off...." Decided to go for something more vague.
10 - used to be "why she reads all the papers, then sets them alight."
* - denotes a line likely to change again

Me And My Cat

Per Julie's request....Damn - I never noticed how "slangy" this lyric is with all the "aints" and "comins" and whatever. Has anyone had this experience with their lyrics ? How certain characteristics stand out once you read them on paper ? Hmmm.............


ME AND MY CAT

my cat jumps on the windowsill
pokes his head around the blinds
keeps an eye out for the winter chill
gettin' closer all the time

he remembers how you went away
he remembers slamming doors
he remembers what you had to say
how you couldn't take no more

and it all fizzles out that way
withers
wilts
and dies away
and it aint comin back again

but that's not what he thinks

he wanders 'round this empty house
checking all his traps
he keeps an eye out for that certain mouse
the one that proved too fast

and i stand guard at windowsills
and laugh at his distress
its time now for that winter chill
but he don't know that yet

cause it all fizzles out that way
withers
wilts
and dies away
and it aint comin' back again

but that's not what he thinks.

Another November

Here ya go, Julie -

Another November
Copyright 2004 Narciso Lobo

A ways back I lost track of the sidewalk
Ain’t nobody’s fault but my own
The dogs are barking at me
It’s starting to get dark and I can’t see
How I’m getting home

I’d best just rest my legs for a minute
Wipe these tears from my eyes
Oh god, my heart is breaking
This part of the martyr’s taking
Too long to die

Oh Lord, get me through another November
Keep me strong, but keep me kind
Oh Lord, keep my heart and my leather together
Keep me warm ‘til wintertime

I’ll weave these leaves into a blanket
Sleep beneath this half naked tree
I’ll dream of Christmas time
And kiss my princess and watch her climb
Right onto my knee

My sweet little Sky, how I miss you
Every Summer sun and Autumn moon
God, tell my darling daughter
I’m not far, and I’ve not forgotten her
Daddy’s coming soon

Oh Lord, get me through another November
Keep me strong, but keep me kind
Oh Lord, keep my heart and my leather together
Keep me warm ‘til wintertime

lyrics requests

Dave: the song about the ketchup in the windowsill. Or that's how you mis-sing it sometimes. you know what I'm talking about? I hope so.

Ciso: The song that goes "oh lord get me through another November" -- I want those lyrics.

Adam: the singer not the song. with all the variant lyrics. and why they vary.

Susie: It's always July.

Al: the Wyoming wind one.

Nancy: the one about your brother.

Garrett: do you have any love songs?

Mike: anything, damnit!

I need a few more songs, especially from Susie, Al, Nancy, and Mike, before I can launch my project. And more lyricists would be great too--send me the email addresses of people you think would be interested!

I Declare a Nate Vasher Day in Chicago

An all-time NFL record was set today by Chicago Bear Nathan Vasher. He returned a missed FG for a 108 yard touchdown. So - c'mon everybody.....

LET'S SING !!!

"Bear Down, Chicago Bears" Lyrics
By Al Hoffman, 1941

Bear Down, Chicago Bears.
Make every play clear the way to victory!
Bear Down, Chicago Bears.
Put up a fight with a might so fearlessly!

We'll never forget the way you thrilled the nation,
With your T formation.

Bear Down, Chicago Bears.
And let them know why you're wearing the crown.

You're the pride and joy,
Of all Illinois.

Chicago Bears, Bear Down!

The Riot Smoke of Memory

This song features opening and closing motifs. The first time is just to set the scene. After the story is told throughout the verses, it returns to the motif - in the exact same wording - but this time to illuminate the man's current condition and state of mind.

Or at least that's what I'm going to tell Pitchfork, if they ever interview me.

Also, I submit this one as a late Veteran's Day/Armisitice Day tribute to veterans everywhere, but especially former Marine Cpl. Michael J. Donovan (Korea) who received his "final discharge papers" this past February. Best uncle I ever had - though this song is not about him.

THE RIOT SMOKE OF MEMORY

afternoons with walter
on his back porch drinkin’ beer
feet up on a wooden crate – yellow toenails cracked like antique mirrors
and ol’ bess the shephard collie with a tabby-cat asleep between her paws
they nuzzle one another now and then – born again outlaws

walter tells his story
we go sailin’ back through time
to a two-room dirt floor company shack of Virginia’s coal mines
where daddy swung his fist every time he got laid off and debts grew deep
momma grew so tired of that fist - she surprised him in his sleep

the memories fresh of bruises old
they circle ‘round to take their hold
but walter’s holdin’ on (C)
the stubborn will survive
and one by one they’ll fire their guns
to the last man left alive

too young for Iwo Jima
with their statues and parades
but just right for the Frozen Chosin – and a snowy unmarked grave
he says, “i beat those odds and made it back
and the schrapnel in my leg aint killed me yet
but a couple chinese faces and my ringin’ ears just won’t let me forget”

Repeat (C)

his temper and his nightmares kept him out of steady work
drivin’ trucks and packin’ crates – diggin’ lonely ditches in the dirt
the 50’s and the 60’s were a day-to-day tornado he survived
it only cost him his youth and a couple angry wives

but out here on the back porch
the demons disappear
the riot smoke of memory fades a little more and more each year
and ol’ bess the shephard collie has a tabby cat asleep between her paws
they nuzzle one another now and then – born again outlaws.

(C)2002 Dave Donovan

Half the Time

Here's my "motif" song:

Half the Time
Copyright 2003 Narciso Lobo

Half the time I’m drinking gin
The other half I’m drunk
Half the time I’m telling lies
The other half is bunk
Half the time I’m half awake remembering your skin
Half the time I lose the game
The other half I can’t win

Half the time you’re not around
The other half I’m alone
Half the time I’m smoking weed
The other half I’m stoned
Half the time I wish I hadn’t done half the things I do
Half the time I’m seeing red
The other half I’m blue

Half the time I need some cash
The other half I’m broke
Half the time I miss the the 8 ball
The other half I choke
Half the time I ain’t half the man that you wish I could be
Half the time I’m blind as a bat
The other half I can’t see

Half the time I’m so bummed out
The other half’s no fun
Half the time I walk away from love
The other half I run
Half a chance is all I need to show you I can change
Half a line’s all I got left
Won’t you please meet me halfway?

post, ye bastards!

So, you shy types---post some lyrics, would ya?

And please refer to me any songwriters you would like to add...Malcolm Palmer comes to mind as a person worthy of inviting.

Because I want a few more songs up before I unveil a great idea of mine...something to help us keep busy & creative during the long cold winter--

so, post some lyrics, and early next week I'll tell you my great idea.

tender is the night

I don’t know where you came from
I don’t know where you’re going to
I don’t know what love is made of
I don’t know a lie from truth

But tonight I know what I want
Tonight I know what I’d like

I don’t know what Tom waits for
I don’t know what you’re running from
I don’t know the girl you could adore
I don’t know how to follow the sun

I want you to see me as I am
I want you to be the one who understands
I want you to take this trouble off my hands
I want you to write a song for me that no one comprehends
Tonight I want you

I don’t know why it can’t be simple
I don’t know why it’s black and white
I don’t know why your kiss is so cruel
I don’t know why I put up a fight

*chorus*

Tonight, tonight, it all began tonight
I saw you and the world went away
tonight, there's only you tonight
and tonight I hope that you're gonna stay
tonight

I wrote this during the summer, on July 15th to be precise. All of a sudden there was a person in my life who came out of left field, and I had no idea what to do with him, or myself. I became extremely confused, in the nicest way--I never knew where to put my hands while talking, and I didn't know how I felt...the only thing I knew was that I liked the person that he saw in me.

I sort of enjoy songs that latch onto a motif (here being "I don't know") and sort of write themselves as they go along. With that opening, I just kept thinking of other things I didn't know.

I realized that I don't know a whole lot. When it comes to having romantic feelings for people, that is. I know quite a lot about other things, useful things, like 19th Century American literature and shit.

Tanget. Sorry.

And I've always wanted to have songs written about me.

Does anyone know what musical these lyrics are, um, borrowed from? : "Tonight, tonight, it all began tonight / I saw you and the world went away."

Goodbye Leaves

I wrote this one just to say goodbye to a lost love. There were some specific things I wanted to say goodbye to, so I thought I'd write a country song about it.

Goodbye Leaves
Copyright 2004 Narciso Lobo

I rearranged the bedroom
It was just getting to be a drag
The couch is in the big room
And the bed is in the back
I finally put up your poster
I knew you’d be shocked
But I put everything else you ever gave me
In a 4 x 6 inch cardboard box

Yes, I was crying
Yes, I shed tears
They fell on every note you ever wrote
To me for one week shy of a year

Goodbye angels, goodbye leaves
Goodbye Memphis and rooftop dreams
How much longer must I grieve?
Until I’m stronger than the ends of my jacket sleeves

I found that tape you made me
You know the one I’m talking about?
It’s you singing a cappella
Laughing and giggling throughout
I just let your voice destroy me
Took a breath and pressed rewind
Then I made sure that every word hurt
Because I knew that it would would be the last time

Yes, I was crying
Yes, I shed tears
One for every note you ever sung
To me that so much as blessed my ears

Goodbye angels, goodbye leaves
Goodbye Memphis and rooftop dreams
How much longer must I grieve?
Until I’m stronger than the ends of my jacket sleeves

Goodbye Privata, goodbye plans
Goodbye snowsuits and orange vans
Goodbye hiding and eyes that know it
Goodbye Pilsen and 3-year-old poets
Goodbye Landslide and noisy beds
Goodbye anger and heavy heads
Goodbye rooftops and IHOPS and beautiful dreads

Goodbye angels, goodbye leaves
Goodbye Memphis and rooftop dreams
How much longer must I grieve?
Until I’m stronger than the ends of my jacket sleeves
Goodbye Leaves

this one needs a great title...

...to set the scene.

* * *

He leapt from the gutter, his scarf all aflutter
From the force of the midday wind.
The girl in the velvet coat pulled it from his throat
With a force that nearly made him spin.

She spoke not a word, just took his hand in hers
And stroked his wrist as they walked down the street.
And they both had a sigh and a wink in their eye
For anyone they happened to meet

And she wore her heart on her sleeve
And in his he held an ace
She was tired of being deceived
And he was tired of being replaced

He stood tall and proud, and his coat swept the ground
as he bent to pull out her chair
And when the coffee was gone, and he had to move on
She made it so easy to linger there

Her hair was a briar patch, his hand was an easy catch
And like that they lay for six days.
His hands roamed her curvature, he fell in love with her
And hoped their lives would travel parallel ways

She wore her heart on her sleeve
And in his he held an ace
She had a fool’s will to believe
And he had a fool’s heartless grace

Her hair smelled of cardamom, her heart was a vagabond,
Aching to be caught and kept
Her soul sought discoveries, her touch felt like falling leaves
And whenever she left him he wept

And under the gaslight, in the cool tender night,
They made an exchange of vow
She gave him her emerald ring, he gave her a song to sing
And that is the way they live now

And he wears her heart on his sleeve
And in hers she holds his ace
She is all that he needs
And to her he cannot be replaced


This is my newest baby. I wrote it at work during my lunch break after eating a FABULOUS fluffer-nutter sandwich. It's going to have its debut tonight at Hoghead McDunna's at the Guilt by Association Radio Acoustic showcase.

It's about wanting to be loved. And wanting to pin a little black heart on a boy's sleeve.

yellow bucket

I have a yellow bucket
It doesn’t have a name
I use my yellow bucket
To play a certain game
A game of hearts
Played in fits and starts
The rules go like this:
Prolong the moment
Between first look and first kiss
Next make your presence felt
so your presence will be missed
and hope that no one asks you
what is clenched in your fist
that’s how you play the game
of the yellow bucket
with no name

I have a yellow bucket
I like to fill it up with rain
I use my yellow bucket
To brew tea all the way from Spain
If I threw a party
Would you still remain
When all the other guests
Have left?
Would you whisper a refrain:
Prolong the moment
Between first look and first kiss
make your presence felt
so your presence will be missed
hope that no one asks you
what’s clenched in your fist

that’s how you play the game
of the yellow bucket
with no name

This song is about several people, and I'm not really comfortable divulging all of the details, but I did know a boy who called himself Bucket, and there was a strange tension between us, and I gave a boy a yellow bucket once, and demanded it be filled with presents, and shortly thereafter his presence was missed.

Additionally, I've always loved the image of and the reality of brewing and drinking tea with the object of my affection, mostly because of Cohen's "Suzanne" and Leon Redbone's "I Want to Be Seduced", two of my favorite songs, both with lyrics about tea.