Lyrics

hey

2007-08-23T10:26:00.000-05:00

I'm trying to get something going again. Bear with me while I figure out the workings of google groups, and then I can explain it to ya'll.

julie

hellooo? where'd everyone go?

2006-11-29T11:26:00.000-06:00

did we just take a hiatus from posting lyrics? can we resussitate it? there are so many of you whose song lyrics need to be read; sometimes the din of the bar or whatever drowns you out when you're on stage. thanks

I Just Might Feel Better Tonight

2006-09-05T20:40:00.000-05:00

On my way to class this morning I accidentally jumped on a Purple line train to Howard after mistaking it for a brown line train, but I was in too good of a mood to get upset by it and the inherent lateness of my predicament. So instead I wrote this song about someone who was and still is a very dear friend to me although we have mostly lost contact with one another.

A Puddle looks like a pot of gold
when it is cast in the right light
at dawn the streets look paved in it
after it's been raining all night
and you looked like an angel to me

You would be a sight for these sore old eyes to see
After these last few years
Since we all left the valley
and went our separate ways
Now I'm not there and you're not here

Your laughter could always make me smile
and I'd forget about my troubles, if for just a little while
And I think if I knew you were doing alright
I just might feel better tonight

While Id pass out drunk
on the living room floor
you were there like a sister
watching over me
prop my head up on a pillow after another of my reckless evenings

When life would get a little too weird
I'd say don't worry Ill always be near
then the distance grew too much
we said we'd keep in touch
but now I'm not there and you're not here

Your laughter could always make me smile
and I'd forget about my troubles, if for just a little while
And I think if I knew you were doing alright
I just might feel better tonight

For Ray Augustine

2006-08-10T01:51:00.000-05:00

Chicago recently suffered the loss of a great musician and wonderful friend with the passing of Ray Augustine. I had the pleasure of playing with him at many an open-mic and backyard BBQ over the years, as many of us did. We will all miss him.

In his memory, I want to post a song that he especially enjoyed playing with me - one that suited his soulful, lonesome harmonica perfectly. I wish I had an audio file I could post here, but for now, the lyrics will have to do.

THE METER

hard knocks and want-nots
trace their way to me
lost rails and buzzard tails
weave a strand for me

dry runs and pale suns
lay their claim to me
word-knives and staggered sighs
tighten up to me

it’s good to remember that it pays to forget
the meter’s been runnin’ awhile and it ain’t done yet.

high roads and half-loads
slip around to me
spare skies and alibis
lean in hard to me

[SOLO]

it’s good to remember that it pays to forget
the meter’s been runnin’ awhile and it ain’t done yet.

first signs and last times
make that crawl to me
old bells and wishing wells
stand on guard for me

(C)2001 Dave Donovan

Ray, that last boxcar has left the yard. We'll meet you somewhere down the tracks...

zombie babies

2006-07-07T12:53:00.000-05:00

a bit of weirdness for the sake of being weird.

mama don't take your baby to the resurrection daycare
if he's dead you'd just better let him be
mama don't take your baby to the resurrection daycare
he'd be better off as a zombie

zom-buh-hee, etc

walking the divide (c) 96 nlc

2006-06-27T15:04:00.000-05:00

i wanted to celebrate the letter w, thus:

watching my culture
through the lens of disdain
waiting for the silence
to reverberate in pain
with a glass for my anger
and a window for my will
i wallow in the wanting
and wish that i was filled.

welcoming an old friend
an enemy disguised
i wander in my weakness
while i'm walking the divide

while i'm walking the divide... (repeats)

waiting for the winter
a whisper in the wings
i'm working yet i'm broken
as i'm pondering these things

and while i'm on the subject
i wonder if you'll find
that words are never worthy
when you're walking the divide

when you're walking the divide....etc.

the ballad of thom & lucy

2006-06-21T03:17:00.000-05:00

Thom stands on the hillside with the sunlight in his hair.
Lucy’s right beside him but he doesn’t know she’s there.
She is just a woman, so easy to forget.
When he leaves her all alone he’ll feel no regret
for those nights she’ll feel alone,
for those nights she’ll feel afraid,
in those beds she never made.

She says, “Kiss me, save me; I’m a girl in need.”
She says, “Kiss me, you could save me, I’m a girl in need, a girl in need.”

Her hair is full of daffodils & her pants are full of stars.
Her body’s made for cheap thrills in the backs of dirty cars.
Thom was her first boy but he sure was not the last.
Her body’s made for other’s joy and she likes to take it fast
on those nights she feels alone,
on those nights she feels afraid
in those beds she never made.

She says “Kiss me, save me; I’m a girl in need.”
She says, “Kiss me, you could save me—I’m a girl in need, a girl in need.”

Thom tells her rape isn’t real & the way that she feels is wrong,
but still she gets down and she kneels because he says, “It won’t take long.”
His days with her are numbered like the stars she knows by name.
She makes his heart beat like thunder,
but he doesn’t want to take the blame
for those nights she’ll feel alone…
and for those nights she’ll feel afraid
in those beds she never made.

She says, “Kiss me, save me; I’m a girl in need.”
She says: “Kiss me, you could save me—I’m a girl in need…a girl in need…”

Thom is in the gutter with Lucy at his side.
He just tried to kiss her, not noticing that she’s died:
her hair is full of lilies & there’s a raven at her eyes.
Thom was only looking for a girl he could define:
instead he found a girl who was alone;
instead he found a girl who was afraid
of those beds she never made.

She said “Kiss me, save me; I’m a girl in need.
Kiss me, you could save me…I could be the girl you need—”

—but he just didn’t see.

I wrote this a couple of years ago deliberately trying to write a song like "Shelter from the Storm" or "Tangled Up In Blue." I'm sure a lot of girls feel treated this way by the boys they know. I just hope Lucy doesn't come across as too "victimy" in this song... sometimes I think alot of my female protagonists (usually the "I") read as whiny and pathetic, but I don't think they are...or at least, I don't want them to be.

visions of the ideal

2006-06-14T14:07:00.000-05:00

jaded beyond my years,i sit and wonder when i'll go under.
i'm growing colder as i get older.
i have fewer hopes than fears,when i come home now i'm all alone now,
there are reflections of missed connections,
but i didn't fall as short as i shot high.

you know 'm doing the best i can,i get inspired but i get tired.
what will it take me,when will this break me?
but i've been taking it like a man...
but now i'm bleeding and i am needing a higher power to save the hour.
i didn't fall as short as i shot high.

why do i feel like i'm falling beneath the wheel?
all that i wanted was not to be taunted by visions of the ideal.

i'm trying to speak my mind,but what's remaining that's worth explaining?
there's noone near me that wants to hear me.
i didn't fall as short as i shot high.

copyright 1996 wm g lane a.r.r.

yet another true story.

The Kings Funeral

2006-06-05T18:05:00.000-05:00

This song is somewhat disjointed in the way that not every verse contributes to the same idea. At first I was'nt so sure of how it turned out. Most of it just popped into my head while I was driving one day. Eventually I got comfortable with it. I feel like every stanza can stand on its own; at least enough so that it works all together, even if not every verse directly contributes to the central theme.
Sometimes they just come out the way they do.

There was a knock at my door yesterday afternoon
It was just an old friend stopping by to ask me whats new
I said, "well not much has changed here how about you?"
It's the same old shit on a different shoe

As the world is getting smaller, it's not getting anymore sane
a lot of people on it are goin' through some pain
Its weight is on the shoulders of quite a few folks
six billion people waiting for the punchline to a joke

No one came to the Undertakers funeral
It was as though he already buried the whole town
Just the parson and the coronor
were there to put him into the ground

Your candle burns at both ends but it's burning twice as bright
with the kind of restless flame that burns all through the night
the wax once in the middle is now a puddle on the floor
You looked at me and said what else is living for

The king sat in his throne room and he sat there all alone
with nothing to console him, not all the riches in the world
in his endless quest for power he betrayed those close to him
thats what he was missing as his life drew near an end

When he died they came from miles around
Emperors and sultans to pay their respects to the crown
in that funeral crowd not a friends face could be found
as the world just kept spinning around

I stood out in the darkness and tried to face it all alone
when something that happened turned my heart into a stone
until I heard the voice of reason on the other end of a phone
sayin' "oh you foolish boy I think it's time that you come home"

Charlie was a good man though he never did have much
He was pis poor for a livin, always short a couple of bucks
but he never broke a promise and he always spoke the truth
taught me that sometimes trying is the best a man can do.

There won't nothing fancy bout Charleys funeral
Burried him in a pine box painted brown
but all his friends and family was there
to see him into the ground.

Late Nights

2006-06-01T02:27:00.000-05:00

This is an example of songwriting from the gut. Or maybe stupid certitude. One of those times when you automatically "hear" a word or phrase being sung over your melody. So, you pursue it and - whatever the hell the word is - you create a story/portrait around it. For me - this happened with "Late Nights" - and the notes are F and C, just for the record. The chords are E flatmaj7/Em79 - courtesy of Roberta Joan Anderson. Thanks Roberta.

LATE NIGHTS

late nights
underneath the stars
one wish
comin true so far

hollow in my hand
gotta meet the man
of slow dissolve
spinning shadow tales
underneath the bridge
as he allows

its the worst in me
the worst in me
is all
I see when meteors
begin to fall

thin lines
runnin through this town
one rail
bending gently down

stenciled on my back
a stubborn one-way track
to hide away
whistling so near
spikes of lead and hammers
here to stay

its the best in me
the best in me
is all inside

as i keep on trading
vultures out for whipporwills
with the branches
holding steady an unseen
murder of crows
waiting to take their turn
in the silent crossfire
that waits for me
indeed

dark doors
lining every street
driveways
snaking in between

scattered heartbeats sound
to check the echoes round
and contemplate
distances between
gates and borders
of these sad estates

its the worst in me
the worst in me
is all
i feel when this town's
pulse begins to fall

old roads
running out and back
circles
no one sems to crack

dancing out of breath
limping in the stretch
but shouldering
one more swing at it
got to think of it
as soldiering

its the best in me
the best in me
is all inside

and i keep on trading
vultures out for whipporwills
with the branches
holding steady an unseen
murder of crows
waiting to take their turn
in the silent crossfire
that waits for me
indeed.

(c)2006DaveDonovan

pelusa makes it home...

2006-05-27T12:53:00.000-05:00

Not trying to fill these pages with non-lyric crap, but this seems like the best place to publicly thank all y'all that i got to meet in person when pelusa blew through Chicago. We are safely home and done with our CD release show and all the stressful business that goes along with it,....

so, Garrett, Nancy, Dave, good to meet you in person. Julie, thanks for letting us pollute your songs at Phyllis' and sorry we didn't get to hang out more, but i was taking an urgent call from Ralph on Garrett's big white phone, then i was very busy being crumpled on the floor in the hallway....

maybe next time through we'll be a little more sober,.... maybe.

it's not your fault

2006-04-24T22:11:00.000-05:00

maybe when you're older you will understand my motives but for now,
i must go into the future trusting you will know my love is real.
i shall carry you with me regardless of the distance we will go.
and though our paths now part so sadly,
it's true your father hopes that you will know.
it's not your fault this can't be helped,
you must never blame yourselves.
all that i can do for now is cry and know that this was meant to be.
i pray that in the days to come my angels will look over you for me.
this is not your fault,
it can't be helped...
you must never blame yourselves.

(c)1996 wm g lane

fort campbell ky. 2005 today show 101st airborne.

wrote this jan. 9 1996 in 10 minutes,then got broadsided at a traffic light ten minutes later.weird day,but maybe the song closest to my heart,or should i say the truest story ever inspired it.

anything but sad

2006-04-24T09:24:00.000-05:00

it is so quite new a thing
this feeling that I have
I never thought I'd be
anything but sad

then you came along
in your canvas shoes
drinking coffee from a paper cup
and singing lonesome blues

doot doot doo doo doo etc

I can't recall the time or place
it was midnight maybe two
I only saw your face
I was aware of only you

you were shining like a beacon
in the dark and velvet night
I never thought I'd live to see
such a beautiful light

doot doot doo doo doo etc

you kissed me in a doorway
and instantly I fell
even though I skinned my knees
you liked me just as well

it is quite so new a thing
this feeling that we have
we never thought we'd be
anything but sad
anything but sad

doot doot doo doo doo etc

¿honest?

2006-04-07T09:37:00.000-05:00

i got faith in no man tied to nothing but a promise
'cuz the axe could fall on either side on something you'd want to stay bound
and it ain't my place to say what could be misconstrued as honest
but the last time the world was in your hands you had a hard time putting it down

-and the chase is on- across the floor and back- a thousand times a day
too bad that its all gone- too bad i never gave it away

try to find a way to be back in her arms by suppertime
but i don't have to try too hard to derail my one track mind
and i'll cash in my wanderlust and get all of this off my chest
for some wood, plaster on a square of dust and asphalt leading up to my front steps

-

--right now my floor's about 4x6, a little tight for sleeping but i don't mind
the roof ain't shingle & the walls ain't bricks, but it gets plenty warm after a couple hundred miles

but i got no faith in a man living on nothing but his word
and i got no words for a man who puts his faith in something he heard
'cuz you know me and i know you, and i guess there ain't nothing that you wouldn't do
and it looks to me like you're trying to see about crossing a bridge you burned

i know this seems to go all over the place, as seems to be my current trend, but trust me, it all connects in my head.....
i guess the goal would be to make things vague in a broad way so other folks can assign their own meaning to it, rather than just sit and wonder what the hell i'm talking about, eh?

oh, and cut back on the clichè....

The Song We Never Wrote

2006-03-30T10:56:00.000-06:00

The Song We Never Wrote

We jumped in the Jeep and left town
It was tough to take the top down
We hit highway 57 like a buck and wing
The lazy sun was setting
All our cares we were forgetting
500 miles and change to the city of the king

Well, we only had one more hour
When the skies began to shower
Kissing in the southern rain made my knees get weak
We thanked the barkeep that saved us
And the Graceland gods that gave us
Sweet Memphis blues to sway to cheek to cheek

Oh, my, my
I cannot tell a lie
But these words have a hard time coming out of my throat
Oh, well, well
It’s a story I had to tell
I just thought I’d write the song we never wrote

On a day I’ll always remember
We got married in September
The leaves on your bare feet just made me cry
You sang, I played guitar
Mahal kita*
You danced with your Umali, and I with Sky

We flew off to take a
Honeymoon down in Jamaica
We swore by the reggae beat we would never part
To our bungalow we go
To turn our lights down low
And make ourselves at home under the island stars

Oh, my, my
I cannot tell a lie
But these words have a hard time coming out of my throat
Oh, well, well
It’s a story I had to tell
I just thought I’d write the song we never wrote

It weren’t no dilemma
Of course we named her Emma
She’s smiling with my grin, playing with your hands
We clap and coo and curl
Around our baby girl
We’ll fill her days with love and do the best we can

This song is yours to keep
I guess it just put you to sleep
I’ll carry you upstairs; you just keep snoring
I’ll kiss you on your head
And tuck you into bed
Good night, my love, sleep tight; see you in the morning

Oh, my, my
I cannot tell a lie
These words have a hard time coming out of my throat
Oh, well, well
It’s a story I had to tell
I just thought I’d write the song we never wrote
The song we never wrote
The song we never wrote

* I love you (translated from Tagalog)

Brown Woman

2006-03-30T10:53:00.000-06:00

Brown Woman

Mm, your kisses taste like home to me
And your smile is like a sweet island song
Mm, we’re moving in harmony
In this tropical rhythm is where I belong

And now I know why all the white girls didn’t seem right
Now I know why I’m gonna sleep good tonight
Now I know why

Brown woman give a brown man wings
Brown woman strum a brown man’s strings
Ease my suffering
Hear this brown man sing
Brown woman’s where a brown man’s from
A brown woman calling make a brown man come
Sweeter than honey rum
Brown woman, brown woman

Mm, your love is like a summer breeze
Through the mango trees on an island shore
Mm, your skin gets me drunk just as well
As a bottle of San Miguel, let me drink some more

And now I know why all those white girls didn’t seem right
Now I know why I’m gonna sleep good tonight
Now I know why

Brown woman give a brown man wings
Brown woman strum a brown man’s strings
Ease my suffering
Hear this brown man sing
Brown woman’s where a brown man’s from
A brown woman calling make a brown man come
Sweeter than honey rum
Brown woman, brown woman

Like a summer breeze through the mango trees
You love me sweet and slow
Like a slow jam sung in our island tongue
You move me down below
When you’re not beside me baby
When you’re gone and I’m alone
Umiiyak, umiiyak, ang puso ko*

Brown woman give a brown man wings
Brown woman strum a brown man’s strings
Ease my suffering, please
Brown woman’s where a brown man’s from
A brown woman calling make a brown man come
Sweeter than honey rum
Brown woman, brown woman

* My heart cries (translated from Tagalog)

I Wish I Was Your Whiskey (Sweet Perdita)

2006-03-30T10:49:00.000-06:00

I Wish I Was Your Whiskey

Every Monday night
And every other Wednesday
Sweet Perdita gently breaks my heart

And I pour her drinks for free
And hope the boss don’t see me
But when sweet Perdita’s singing, I ain’t so smart.

She takes one shot of Jack
For every love song
That I dream she sings for me alone
She needs two shots of Beam
In between her covers of Nina Simone

O I wish I was your whiskey
‘Cause I can ease your pain
I’d cheer your ass up
Before you put down the cup
And if you fuck up
I’ll take the blame

I wish I was your whiskey
Ain’t nothing that I’d rather be
Honey, I’ll keep you warm
Through this cold winter storm
And you can drown all your sorrows in me

Every lonesome strum
Every limb goes numb
My feet uneasily hovering above the floor

Through these tears I see
She don’t sing for me
It’s those hopeless dreams I was hoping to ignore

She needs one shot of Black
Johnnie Walker
For every sad song she croons
And it’s Maker’s Mark
To harden her heart before she can belt out the blues

O I wish I was your whiskey
‘Cause I can ease your pain
I’d cheer your ass up
Before you put down the cup
And if you fuck up
I’ll take the blame

I wish I was your whiskey
Ain’t nothing that I’d rather be
Honey, I’ll keep you warm
Through this cold winter storm
And you can drown all your sorrows in me

Everybody knows
That every bar must close
Bleary-eyed and busted, I give last call

As her final tune
Leaves this old saloon
So does sweet Perdita pass these walls

And it’s old Wild Turkey
For the barkeep
As the regulars file down the stairs
I’m drinking Bushmills
‘Til I get the will
To confess to her empty chair

O I wish I was your whiskey
‘Cause I can ease your pain
I’d cheer your ass up
Before you put down the cup
And if you fuck up
I’ll take the blame

I wish I was your whiskey
Ain’t nothing that I’d rather be
Honey, I’ll keep you warm
Through this cold winter storm
And you can drown all your sorrows in me

fine

2006-03-25T11:29:00.000-06:00

I've been running since I fell down
trying to make my way in this damn town
if I thought that you wanted me around
I'd feel fine, fine, fine
baby I'd feel fine

I've yelled at the top of so many stairs
resisted the urge to throw so many chairs
if I dared to think that you could care
I'd feel fine, fine, fine
baby I'd feel fine

one flew east & one flew west
and one more shot will put us to the test
and one more shot after that
Maybe we'll feel fine, fine, fine
maybe we'll feel fine

I've written pages about how it begins
and it seems like ages since I've let anyone in
but when you walk my way with a swagger & a grin
I feel fine, fine, fine
baby I feel fine

I wrote this sometime this week. Emphasis on the chorus: I feel fine.

let the curtain fall

2006-03-22T16:28:00.000-06:00

elton at the piano

rays of light shine through my dusty window,
hanging in the air above my pillow.
3 pm i'm still in bed,
i feel the pressure building in my head.

the same bare bulb stares at me just like always,
i hear the sounds of screams in far off hallways.
it's just another normal day,
everybody's eyes are turned away.

i've just made up what's left of my mind,
to finally close my eyes to it all.
if i get up i'll leave it behind,
and finally turn my face to the wall.
it's time to let the curtain fall.

i'm so tired,got this burned out feeling.
i've had enough of staring at my ceiling.
city skylights hints of the sun,
one day soon into the void i'll run.
i'll see no more insanity in silence,
i'll never have to cry out for alliance.
there has to be a better way,
or is that second chance so far away?

i was 21 when i went through a depressing broke ass winter...my girlfriend broke up with me,the band i worked for collapsed under the pressure of a corrupt coked out manager...it was only the thought that there was nowhere worse than from where i'd come that carried me through. this song that i wrote the following spring attempts at the total drag it actually was to be alone that winter with my crappy reel to reel,scrounging for food and gigs,wondering how much of this shit could i take.a year later i was working for the headliners and in the black bigtime...but i still missed the girlfriend.

i came across a letter

2006-03-20T17:06:00.000-06:00

i came across a letter in a hand that seemed familiar,
and as i read on i recalled it came from you.
and the wall that i built up,
to keep your image out...
came crashing down in one fell swoop.
deciding it was fair and because no one else was there,
i indulged it for a moment.

the words upon that paper brought back our little caper,
and i heard your voice and belonged again to you.
i knew all the world was right,that is up until that night,
that you wrote to me to give me your goodbye.
they say all in love is fair,
if you leave it everywhere,
i guess you hadn't really meant it.

you said in your own understated way i'd always be,
followed by a line i could never read.
you said we weren't meant to be,and there we weren't.
you said you'd found somebody else,
and that our bridge had burnt.

the hell that i remember,and the times that i'd recover,
when you knocked me down i would come back up for more.
then there's the ways that you'd fuck up,
when i'd been there to bail you out,
that didn't count for much when we hit the crunch.
that's when i realized through my tears,
that you had been long gone for years.
and i crumpled up that letter.

copyright 2006 wm g lane a.r.r.
ah the lost art of letter writng...when in the letter/essay mode, that's when the magic happens.

telling stories

2006-03-11T09:36:00.000-06:00

peter was a lost boy
who thought that he could fly
but he kept wendy's thimble
til the day that he died

wendy was a child
who took all that she could
and peter would if she would
but he never would

chorus
we're just telling stories
before we say goodnight
we want a happy ending
before we're tucked in tight
some are tragic ballads
some have epic themes
and the farce disguised as romance
will haunt our dreams

alice was a rover
who couldn't stand still
no one's ever held her
and no one ever will

the white knight was a fool
who thought that she would fall
he thought she found him charming
but she didn't think that way at all

*chorus*

I am just a rambler
a storyteller by trade
and you are a character
I didn't realize that I'd made

I thought that you would ease me
I thought you would be true
but in the end it turned out
there was no such man as you

I was just telling stories
before I said goodnight
I wanted a happy ending
before we were tucked in tight
some were tragic ballads
and some had epic themes
but it's the farce disguised as romance
that haunts my dreams

03.08.2006.

it takes one to noone

2006-03-07T13:57:00.000-06:00

i don't believe in accidents,
or anybody's innocence,
we're here together present tense,
and i believe this is just what i told you.

remember who you're talking to,
remember i'm a lot like you,
remember all that we've been through,
remember how i have loved you.

it takes one to noone,
and you know i know,
no body better.

all i really want to say,
i'm sorry about yesterday,
there's no tomorrow in the way,
baby i want you to be happy.

but don't pretend at my expense,
you're playing truth or consequence,
but i'll still come to your defense,
because i believe you truly love me.

it takes one to noone,
and you know i know,
no body better.

another true story...posted for adam rebellious to do a cover!
remember ya'll,almost every song i write has secret subtext,wordplay,and downright cryptograms for you to find and decipher.
this one came out of a desperate situation made worse by the illogcal and intellectually dishonest. it was a failed plea for reason during an insurrection, as nancy likes to remind us "hurt people hurt people".i have yet to retreat from my original position on this subject,as i like to say,time will tell.

the photo is me and mike o'malley working on mic-ing up jason bonham's drum kit.that night he played misty mountain hop w foreigner because it was jon bonham's birthday.
the closest i will get to a zeppelin show.

Nancy and her "food obsessions" :>)

2006-03-01T17:15:00.000-06:00

I believe I have already posted a lyric, which contained a line that sounded like "my ketchup's on the windowsill". At least to Nancy's ear. (The line was actually "my cat jumps on the windowsill"). She recently asked me about a line that she thought sounded like "settling into the hot plate". You can see for yourself what the lyric actually is below.

Lest you think I'm mocking her, be advised that I am the King of Lyrical Confusion, and spent years believing that Jimi Hendrix actually sang, "Excuse me while I kiss this guy".

MIRAGE

Can’t you just see her in velvet
tiara of four half-moons
Servants on call at her bedside
ruling a torch-lit room

But she would never believe it
The left brain always wins
And I thank God I can see it in my dreams

Can’t you just see her in soft robes
wandering through the sand
Lookin’ for wine from the water
swearin’ that someone can

But she would never believe it
The bad guys always win
And I thank God I can see it in my dreams

She would never believe it
The lawyers always win
And I thank God I can see it in my dreams

Can’t you just see her in bearskin
tending an early fire
Settling into the high plains
leading a full moon choir

But she would never believe it
The left brain always wins
And I thank God I can see it in my dreams.

(C)DaveDonovan2001

a safe distance (c) 06 n. connelly

2006-02-15T00:09:00.001-06:00

i have a friend
who barely hides his sadness
who medicates his madness
he can't seem to tame the beast

he'll socialize
but he'll keep a safe distance
he always seems listless
and sullen underneath

even when he smiles
there's the tiniest trace
of resignation
in his face
he can't bend back into place
he can't bend back into place

i have a friend
who's like a hidden treasure
with a gift of quiet splendor
tainted with mistrust

he's kind enough
but preoccupied
with some monsters in his mind
he'd rather not discuss

even when he's here
he comes across as remote
like the word's caught in his throat
for a song he never wrote
even when he smiles
there's the tiniest trace
of resignation
in his face
he can't bend back into place
he can't bend back into place...
***

New album now at the printers!

2006-02-14T18:31:00.000-06:00

Clark Street Carols,The new Adam Selzer and his Revolving Door All-Stars album, featuring "Crooked Houses," "When Kevin Comes Marching Home," "New York Rain," "One Last Short Poem," "Bells of St. Julians," "I Don't Believe in Summer," "Barbara Allen's Grave," "But Not the Songs," "Your Neighborhood Gives Me the Creeps," "Long Way Home," and "An Intellectual COuntry Song About Joan Baez." Samples of a few songs are up at myspace

Special lyricsproject price of 9.99, including shipping!

can't choose (Who do you love?)

2006-02-12T18:32:00.000-06:00

Technically should be "whom" do you love, but that just sounds stuffy, doesn't it?

CAN'T CHOOSE

like a child of three
I want whatever I see
even what don't belong to me
sometimes we can't choose where we fall

it's pretty smoky in here
& you're standing so near
is it our words or just the beer
that keep us talking so long
(long after you should be gone?)

I'm in no place to fall
I'm in no place to fall
I have no grace to fall
I'm in no place to fall

what a sly little glance
do I have a chance?
I'd snap my fingers and dance
if that would turn your head
(What would turn your head?)

with a shy little smile
you stayed for awhile
playing your new songs in the old style
tell me who do you love?
(who do you love?)

repeat chorus
first & last verse

____

This is my second new song in as many weeks...I'm very prolific when my heart's been broken.

every night she weeps (100th post to the blog! yay!--JJ)

2006-02-12T13:27:00.000-06:00

sweet loretta waits so long,
life gets better,
at least her life goes on.

rain on the town,pouring down...
or is that tears from the sky?

she knows,it's just a dream she keeps.
she sows,and in good time she reaps,
but every night she weeps.

her tomorrows,
all seem gray.
all her sorrows,
at least she's had her day.

on down the lane,in the rain,
the music plays and she is why.

i wrote this back in 1983...
i realize at this time that i had no business being involved with the woman i wrote this about,she was much older than i was.

Since You've Been Gone

2006-02-11T18:57:00.000-06:00

I ride the bus to the end of the line
Cause since you’ve been gone I’ve had nothing but time
To think about all the ways I did you wrong

I stand unknown in unknown streets
Performing poems and miraculous feats
Inspired by the ways I’ve been done wrong

Since you’ve been gone
I’ve taken the long way home
since you’ve been gone
I’ve changed my tone

since you’ve been gone
I’ve found a new way to play
Since you’ve been gone
I’ve been trying to get away

Since you’ve been gone

I walk the streets until the morning light
Looking for something to make it alright
But all I find are reminders that you’re gone

I sing my songs til I’m deaf from the sound
But still you don’t seem to want me around
You’re sitting up front but still you’re long gone

I can no longer wait at the bus stop
That I once waited at with you
I can no longer sing all the sad songs
That I once sang for only you
You’re a thief who cannot be trusted with love

Composed today, with the exception of the first two verses, which were composed earlier...hell if I remember exactly when.

sigh

2006-02-06T20:49:00.000-06:00

It never fails.... the album heads off to be printed tomorrow, if all goes well, and tonight I come up with a new song with a really catchy chorus that I can't stop playing

WHICH SIDE ARE YOU ON
The drove the trucks with the missiles down my street today
shortly after dinner, we'd sent the kids all out to play
and then, about eight thirty, the streetlights all came on
and the kids all had to come inside before the trucks were gone
chorus:
shut and quit shouting at me baby
don't you know there's a war going on
shut up and quit shouting at me baby
don't you know there's a war going on

(a some point the last line of the chorus will change to "which side you are you on"). This'd probably be overkill on the same album as "When Kevin Comes Marching Home," but maybe I'll play it live.

did i ever tell you how lucky you are?

2006-02-06T10:16:00.000-06:00

well, julie got back on a plane this morning after lending her inimitable voice to a few tracks on our next record, and gracing us with a couple of performances- blowing away the kids in Olympia and then wooing (literally) the folks at the liquid lounge open mic..."in the shadow of the space needle"....
all you lucky bastards in chicago should count yer goddamn blessings to have daily access to this girl. so, i'm sure it's been said before, and you should all know this already, but julie jurgens rocks.
see you in the spring.

Like a Kid (c) 01 n. connelly

2006-02-01T21:03:00.000-06:00

i feel compelled to include this one cuz i'm so sick of people hurting kids. and those kids grow up with a lot of wounds and scars. but the people who hurt kids were probably also hurt themselves. i made up a saying (or maybe it's already a saying, i dunno) "hurt people hurt people".
***
you cowered under the hand
of somebody called your dad
the power that he had
held you in fear of his wrath.
he towered just like a god
and never spared the rod
your innocence was flogged
your flinch became a nod.
resigned to taking the hit
from his unrelenting fist
you learned not to block or to wince
you took it.... like a kid.

you ached from limb to limb
never challenging him
he was so strong and big
you knew you'd never win...

hugs and apologies:
"it was for your own good don't you see?
now let's shake hands and pretend
this never happened (again)".
you finally slammed every door
still feeling his rage to the core
you ran far away and you swore
you'd never come back anymore.

contorted into empty shame
you had to shed his last name
a bloodline you could not contain
still crying...in your veins.

black eyes, pulled ears
mean words, hot tears
bruised legs, pinched skin
yanked arms, bloody chin
broken teeth, broken bones
broken trust, broken home
broken home.
****

a little notice

2006-01-26T04:56:00.000-06:00

it's not like i never take care of you.
there's been a time or two that i can recall
that i've had the honor of pulling off your shoes
and picking you up and dragging you in so you won't sleep where you fall.
and it's not like i'm the best company
i know i can wallow with the best
i'm not trying to keep track of what you've done to me
but, you know, a little notice might have reined in a bit of this mess.

if i was a betting man
i could have made a fortune on these odds
the pot was rich, all paper and silver
no penny-ante bullshit
all high stakes, a wink and a nod
and whiskey (neat) in a endless river

or at least what these three tickets will get me.
and just two singles for the tip
if i'm sweet to the waitress i might get one more free
then we step on the fuzz, smile for the girls, and down the last sip.
i guess i might have guessed
should have seen it coming like the last line's rhyme
and maybe if you'd have quit while you were ahead
i'd still be sittin' in the dark, and you could have just a little more time

to think.

sweet, sweet ignorance
i hardly knew ya
if what i'm seeing now could be the pretender,
not you.
sweet, sweet, false bliss
you don't know me now, do ya?
and now that you mention it, i don't seem to remember,
meeting you.

yeah, i don't want to fucking talk about it.

I Wish I Was Your Whiskey (Sweet Perdita)

2006-01-25T13:06:00.000-06:00

Here's the beginning of a song I'm working on right now. I'm not trying to get into the habit of posting unfinshed lyrics, but I really like these so far. Inspired by Julie Jurgens' "Whiskey Song."

I Wish I Was Your Whiskey (Sweet Perdita)

Every Monday night
And every other Wednesday
Sweet Perdita gently breaks my heart

And I pour her drinks for free
And hope the boss don’t see me
But when sweet Perdita’s singing, I ain’t so smart.

She takes one shot of Jack
For every love song
That I dream she sings for me alone
She needs two shots of Beam
In between her covers of Nina Simone

I wish I was your whiskey
‘Cause I can ease your pain
I’d cheer your ass up
Before you put down the cup
And if you fuck up
I’ll take the blame

I wish I was your whiskey
Ain’t nothing that I’d rather be
I’ll help you be bold
Warm you up when you’re cold
And you can drown all your sorrows in me

To be continued...

Hello from Narciso

2006-01-23T14:18:00.000-06:00

Hello everyone.

Sorry I've been AWOL lately. My dad's really sick from colon cancer and has been in the hospital. I haven't had any time to post, much less write.

I miss you guys, and I'll be back soon.

If you guys want to read up on his situation, you can do so at:

anythingfordad.blogspot.com

Ciso.

mostly these days

2006-01-21T20:09:00.000-06:00

chorus:
sometimes I wish I were silver
so I wouldn't mind being so cold
and sometimes I wish I were water
so I wouldn't mind growing old
but mostly these days I wish that I were
embroidered on your pillow
so I wouldn't have to worry about convincing you
to take me home

verse 1
have you changed your destination
or are you just taking the long way around?
I don't fault you for your hesitation
but I don't want to lose what I've found

it took me a long time to get here
so don't blame me for wanting to stay
besides I still need to figure out
why at night all cats are grey

chorus

verse 2
now that your ticket's in hand
you're ambivalent about wanting to do
it's hard to help you understand
all the things that I want you to know

the train will be leaving the station
with or without you, my friend
will I be a destination
or simply a means to an end?

chorus

verse 3
now I'm a bird on the wire
your love is my parasol
will you catch me in your desire?
or just watch me spin as I fall?

I have no change in my pocket
just some poison and poetry
I know you don't believe in summer
but I wish you'd believe in me

chorus

The chorus is a variaton/derivative of a Pablo Neruda poem. I loves me some Pablo Neruda.

I am annoyed, a little, at the fact that I used "destination" so much, but any other word wouldn't fit as well, and would smack of "trying too hard." (God knows I try as hard as I can, but one never wants it to come across that way).

"Now I'm a bird on the wire" is a direct reference to the Cohen song. "Your love is my parasol" refers to a line from love letter that Zelda Fitzgerald wrote to F Scott.

Other references abound, easily discernible to the intelligent, close listener.

I'd love to write more train songs. I've always lived near trains, and there's something mythical about them, that and the fact that they are chock full of hoboes. I loves me some hoboes almost as much as I loves Pablo Neruda.

not quite a lyrics post

2006-01-21T18:29:00.000-06:00

Not quite a lyrics post, but here's a preview of the tray card for my album, which is now being mixed. I especially like the shot in the bottom left; it's like a picture old men playing cards in the cafe have of themselves from back in the 30's.

So, lyrics (from the last album) to follow.

Sixty-Six
I spend my nights at the Salvadore Deli
Eating bowls of chili that are hotter than hell
Talking to some Dickensian man who speaks
Three languages poorly and no language well
Slicer stole the paper and he's sitting at the bar
Freddie's digging out a couple pennies from the jar

CHORUS
And the old men all play 66
With the cards
They all play 66
In the corners
They all play 66
And they won't deal me in

Lila ran away on a bitter old night
From a Foster Freeze outside of St. Mark's Clearing
Grabs a seat in my booth and she plays with a spoon
Says "I'm way too young to be this world weary"
Casts a throwaway glance at the late night clerks
And pets a tiny kitten that she keeps in her purse

Chorus

It's raining again and I'm all out of change
Barely awake but I don't want to sleep
Freddie's outside and Slicer disappeared
And Lila moves over puts her hand on my knee
But I just look out the window, my thoughts are still on you
And I wonder if you're staring at a rainy evening, too

Chorus

(this is usually ended with a few lines from "Rumania Rumania" by Aaron Lebedeff when I do it live - an old Yiddish standard about all the things you can get to eat in Romania. Since my Yiddish is lousy, on the recording I just repeated the word "pastramala" (need I translate?) for the coda)

where's narciso? (for one)

2006-01-17T21:13:00.000-06:00

hey! what's happening? where did you all go? did you drop out? is this getting too boring or something? where are the new people's posts?

Shallow (c. n. connelly)

2006-01-15T14:00:00.000-06:00

i think i wrote this in the late 90's cuz someone called me shallow (which, of course i am in a lot of ways)

You're caught up again
tangled in the weeds
lost again in anxious longing.
you're swept up again
in the current of your grief
tossed like a bottle in the sea.

shallow dreams and the depth you dread
the fear of going in over your head
hear the lullaby and the gentle stirring
of a love that calls beyond your fury.

you're shot down again, poor baby
your broken wings they're not flyin'
they've stopped you again from even trying.

so you watch the horizon
where all your hopes are slowly sinking
still waiting for a refuge
and barely breathing.

shallow dreams and the depth you dread
the fear of going in over your head
hear the lullaby and the gentle stirring
of a love that calls beyond your fury.
***

poems in my grave

2006-01-13T22:23:00.000-06:00

Will you throw your poems in my grave?
Or will you publish all my letters under your own name?
Will you forever hide yourself away,
Or will you one day come to me and let yourself be tamed?

If there’s a hell and I end up there
Will you lead me out with a song?
Or will you pretend that you don’t even care,
And tell everyone that I had done you wrong?

Would you forsake me for a chance at fame?
Would you still love my songs even if no one knew my name?
Are you afraid of me because I let myself be tamed?
Will you throw your poems in my grave?

Brand new. Wrote the first line in my head on my walk home from work tonight...and here's the first, and probably final, draft (includes minute tweaks, but essentially this is how it came out).

I read in Sexing The Cherry about some mad Victorian poet--Browning or Keats--throwing all of his most recently composed poems into his wife's open grave upon her death (later he fetched them, but what a gesture!). I really want for someone to love me that much, but am doubtful as to whether or not anyone ever will.

Additionally, the idea of "being tamed" has returned to my work...not that I think mad, messy, fucked-up complicated artist folk should be tamed, per se--the world needs us, traipsing about in all our weird, fucked up glory--but I do believe in being tamed by one person for that person...tamed meaning more of a bending rather than a breaking. Being tamed shouldn't be a beating down, it should be a wearing in, the way one molds one's body to a pair of jeans, or to their pillow or bed. Patterns and habits pleasing to the beloved become more prominent and like second nature, and those that are displeasing recede into the background. Being tamed isn't losing oneself, its becoming more fully the self that you've always wanted to be.

...
|
|
|

Ah, fuck, don't read that shit anymore. I'm not even drunk, I'm just a silly girl who wants to be kissed while she isn't looking.

see how deep does it go...

2006-01-09T14:36:00.000-06:00

be a candle burner not a candle haver

it occurs to me that if i wrote songs about stuff that was fictional i wouldn't have any songs to post.i guess i was led to believe that the songwriter had a duty to speak about his/her own experiences in life to add to the total of expressions accumulated by mankind.that the form is derivative is moot,but the prize should go to the writer that has most effectively turned reality into the literary...for the world to enjoy or destroy as it deems fit.

someone's someday

2006-01-03T15:03:00.000-06:00

i know it involves alot of time to catch your dreams,
but sometimes i feel i've got so far to go.
i need to believe in myself more 'cause these aren't schemes,
but sometimes i fear that i'm the only one to know,
i hope that i'll be someone's someday.

there are people i see searchin' high and low for love,
and sometimes they say they wish that they were me.
i can hardly believe that i'm the one they're thinking of,
'cause sometimes i feel like i'm as lost as i can be,
but i'd love to be that someone someday.

and maybe i might find myself not wishing i was somewhere else,
maybe i'll wind up okay,
maybe i'll be someone's someday.

i'll give all i've got to give until i've got no more,
'cause sometimes i feel i'm just one step away.
i'll continue to pay those dues in hopes i'll someday score,
'cause sometimes i feel one of the songs i play is gonna make me into,
someone's someday.

(c)2006 wm g lane a.r.r.

lots of stuff happening for those of us on this blog...
everyone is recording and posturing for a year of heavy interaction with the masses.
we have the stuff right here to move towards our proper place as the heart and soul of our respective communities.let the poets and philosophers unleash reason and bring down the tyrannies that oppress us.
the other day i read a post that asked the question,"what ever happened to MUSIC?"
i'll tell you what happened...music cannot be allowed to reach the masses because it takes away power from tyranny,the tyrants know this,and will never allow the state of the art to replace the art of the state.this is why there isn't a movement to include art appreciation in it's proper place in our culture...this is why we never hear anything but safe and approved rehash...anything that enhances our demographic differences and keeps us from uniting with one voice will be bought up and released ad nauseum,until we make a way to beat them at their own game...until all of us join in support of those that are best suited to win at the game.
when the beatles revolution #9 becomes a car commercial,you know we've reached critical mass and the collapse of the culture is imminent. i'm fighting back.

Long Way Home (again)

2006-01-02T11:09:00.000-06:00

Think I've got a line on this one now....

LONG WAY HOME (version 4 or 5)

January's coming to the transient hotel
where I've been staying too many nights
we strike our matches against the moon of old Chicago
and look to see how hard it's snowing in the light
When I forget to light the candles (as I do most Friday nights)
Emily comes and lights them for me
she says that I'd be lost if I didn't have her
next door to the room where I sleep
But I have never been lost
I have never been lost
I have never been lost
I've just taken the long way home

Three doors down, Levy looks about 90
and claims that he's older than that
Says he fought with Jack Johnson back in the early 20's
and was knocked out in two minutes flat
He's been at the hotel since his wife died
which was nearly two decades ago
but he says he can't leave, because when the light is just right
he can sometimes see her face in the snow
he has never been lost
he has never been lost
he has never been lost
he's just taken the long way home

The bar at the hotel has wood paneled walls
we sit in line from soprano to baritone
Emily's an alto, she drinks vodka tonic
Levy's pumping coins into the phone
so when they start up the countdown on the TV
we'll be ready to sing Auld Lang Syne
and at the risk of starting to sound a bit greedy
we'll ask God to bless us all, please, one more time
we have never been lost
we have never been lost
we have never been lost
we've just taken the long way home

lay me down

2005-12-29T16:00:00.000-06:00

Lay me down in the field
Where the weeds grow tall
Lay me down beside you
Before I fall
Before I fall

Sing a song of love
Sing a song of hate
Sing a song of dreams
That always have to wait
Have to wait

Lay me down by still deep water
Where the flowers talk in rhyme
Lay me down for I’m weary
And I’ve been running for such a long time
All of my life

Sing a song of hope
Sing a song of loss
Sing a song of dreams
That are worth the cost
Worth the cost

Lay me down in the field
Where the weeds grow tall
Lay me down beside you
Before I fall

if i die

2005-12-29T15:59:00.000-06:00

If I die don’t mourn me none
Just raise a glass to all the things I’ve done
If you must shed a tear
Just don’t let it water down your beer

If I die before my baby
Please tell him I was always true
And if he dies shortly after me
That’s just the chivalrous thing to do

And if I die before I have children
Find a little girl with cold green eyes
Give her my guitar, and a taste for whisky
And teach her my songs about wicked, loving lies

If I die don’t mourn me none
Just raise a glass to all the things I’ve done
Sing my songs and drink til you’ve forgotten
That I am gone, gone, gone…

welcome, welcome, welcome

2005-12-28T22:28:00.000-06:00

I want to welcome Shannon and Dustin to our little lyrics collective.

Post away, gentlemen.

fondly,

Julie "Perdita" Jurgens

someone said something...

2005-12-26T08:43:00.000-06:00

...on this blog once that reminded me of this quote: All art is a kind of confession, more or less oblique. All artists, if they are to survive, are forced, at last, to tell the whole story; to vomit the anguish up.

James Baldwin wrote that, and that just about sums up the creative process for me.

on christmas day

2005-12-24T04:16:00.000-06:00

a star up in the sky led them to a child,
on christmas day,
they'd come so many miles.
angels upon high,
in meadows shepherds lie,
recieving joyous songs.
the little drummer boy played through the silent night,
to the newborn king,
bathed in a golden light.
that baby in the straw would become known to all,
as the saviour born,
on christmas day.

(c) 2005 wmglane a.r.r.

a very happy christmas to all our readers and contributors!
god bless the artists and the truthseekers,grant us the courage to face the hardships of the vanguard. keep us in our pursuit for a just world, protect us from all those who would enslave us.

Sorry About That

2005-12-21T04:20:00.000-06:00

So, the other night, I was bored and tossed off some kind of half-assed poem/lyric/thing that was supposed to go to another blogspot site. It wound up here, because I didn't pay attention to where I was signing in. Sorry.

...and one more

2005-12-15T08:11:00.000-06:00

This is probably my biggest holiday "hit."

COMMUNIST BLOC
(tune of "Jingle Bell Rock")

Communist, communust, communist bloc!
spend all our time just waitin' in line
all o' the bourgeouise feared revolution
now the commie regime has begun!
Communist, communust, communist bloc!
seizin' the means to halt the machines
dancin' and prancin' around the red square
in the frosty air!
The prolateriate will this year get
to rock the night away
the manifesto, from the get-go
seems to work in theory, anyway
Hammer and sickle laid down at our feet
capitalists are stopped
reds and pinkos, Cubans and Chinese
That's the Communist,
That's the Communist,
That's the Communist Bloc!

The Adventures of Just John

2005-12-14T22:17:00.000-06:00

This is dedicated to my friend "Just" John, a fellow songwriter, who unfortunately, passed away a few years back. While it has nothing to do with him, he is referenced, and if he heard it he would say, "son of a bitch, that's great" (even if it sucked).

Just John Jumped in the Jungle
Just John Jumped in the Jungle
Just John Jumped in the Jungle
'Cause Julie Jujitsued his Jewels (ok maybe jujitsu-ed is stretching it a bit)

Just John Joined the Jaguars
Just John Joined the Jaguars
Just John Joined the Jaguars
A Journey to Juno they jogged

Just John Jigged with Jugglers
Just John Jigged with Jugglers
Just John Jigged with Jugglers
Jointly they juried for jujubees

Just John Joked with Juggernauts
Just John Joked with Juggernauts
Just John Joked with Juggernauts
Jazzily Jostling Jehosafat

Just John a jolly joy was he
Just John a jolly joy was he
Just John a jolly joy was he
A Juvenile jovial jamboree

zzz

2005-12-14T01:18:00.000-06:00

all i' got so far is zelda the zebra (WHY does this go to bold type?!). anyway, your next assignment, if you so choose, is to compose a song (or poem, whatever), w/o using any adjectives.

Winter

2005-12-13T19:49:00.000-06:00

Here's my other holiday-ish song. I always thought the chorus, tune and opening line of "God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen" were fantastic, though the rest keep it from getting on my list of
Christmas Songs I Can Sing Without Worrying About What My Rabbi Would Say. So I stole the chorus and used it to close out my last album.

WINTER

Mr Emery sings a bit on certain holidays
But he never really talks much anymore
He just sits there in the corner with his cider in his hand
While his wife says "well, he had a hard war."
He made it back from Europe with half of a tattoo
And a limp that never really went away
Took his GI deferment and he spent it all on her
And now all that she ever hears him say
Are tidings of comfort and joy
Oh tidings of comfort and joy

April is a joker and September is a trap
October is like busting out of jail
She changed her name to Winter and she curled up her hair
And drove out to the last mile of the trail
And she smiled at all the strangers with a shiney crooked grin
And hung around when everything had closed
She went dancing on the sidewalks with the people who were left
And whispered to them when they held her close
Oh tidings of comfort and joy
Oh tidings of comfort and joy

One day I'll be an old man, and I'll wear a coat like that
And a scarf about like that one, only brown
I'll grow my hair as wild as I can make it grow
When I go out walking through the town
I'll mutter curses on the steep hills, and when I make the top
I'll shake my cane and laugh up at the sky
I'll pretend that I spoke Russian when I was a little boy
And think of winter with a twinkle in my eye
Oh tidings of comfort and joy
Oh tidings of comfort and joy

nancy

2005-12-12T22:39:00.000-06:00

What's that bad blood in your water song of yours?

and the one about fishing...yeah, fishing...

I humbly request those lyrics be posted.

happy holidays

2005-12-12T10:57:00.000-06:00

I'll post a few of my holiday-themed songs over the next week - though their connection to holidays is generally vague at best. Here's one I wrote in the middle of Coach Smith's chemistry class, right around the holidays way back in my sophomore year of high school, when I should have been taking actual notes. I didn't do so well in the class, but I'm still able to post this song nearly a decade later, and I certainly haven't used a bunsen burner lately.

ALARM BELLS
TTTO: Jingle Bells

Oh, elements, elements, molecules and moles
wouldn’t Coach be mad about the test tubes that we stole?
elements, elements, present everywhere
if you mix ‘em up just right they’ll burn right through your hair

mixing up the flasks, trying to make stuff burn
“what’s that smell?” you ask, “It makes my stomach churn”
liquids start to boil, atoms start to split
before each lab we have to ask “how dangerous is it?”

elements, elements, solid liquid gas
just remember: duck and cover when you see the flash!
elements, elements, bout as safe as guns
but I must admit that those explosions can be fun

The bell rings loud and clear to let the fun begin
this solution here will burn right through your skin
Gases in the air, acids on the floor,
and these stupid safety goggles make my nose feel sore

elements elements, “hey watch out!” you say
what the hell, I didn’t need that eyeball anyway
elements, elements, I love chemistry
maybe if I’m lucky I can still pull off a C*

* - I've no idea whether I actually pulled off a C, but I think I at least passed that semester.

W song

2005-12-11T14:06:00.000-06:00

Whereas when wooden wheels would willingly work wonders,
well wishers would wistfully wander.
Wieners with whitebread washed with whiskey.
Watch while we’re wishing.
Wondering while we watch, why we worry
whether Woosley’s worm’s worthy.
While words would weave woolly white-washed wars,
would whiskey warrant whores?
Wine would wean whiskey when women weren’t willing
without wishing, without winning.
Wino’s wives, wives of warriors,
wives whose wombs will wither.
Water wells, wind whips, weathercock whirls,
weak willed weathermen’s words.
Weak world weather’s W’s will.

ok, so i know you said it doesn't have to be all w's but i came across this late, and it seems like everyone else is doing it like this (and i want to fit in for fuck's sake)

i'm glad i got W so i could use "whore" "whiskey" and of course "weathercock"
oh yeah, and woosley....

AWRIGHTAWREADY!

2005-12-11T11:37:00.000-06:00

you guys, i didn't mean the whole f'ing song had to begin w/ the same letter. but do what you will.

pinned

2005-12-10T12:17:00.000-06:00

she sits in the back booth drinking her coffee
thinking about you & the life she's led
she comes from a small town that's slowly dying
the farmland is barren & so is her heart
she gets drunk and goes home with boys who don't like her
but still she's a body they can own for the night

and when she wakes up she only wants coffee
but she's pinned by the weight of her dreams
til finally she slips out into the morning
and nothing she looks at is quite what it seems

she drinks alone often drowning her sorrows
but somehow the damn things have learned how to swim
she's taking speed now she wants to be thinner
she thinks that you'd love her if she were small
she tries on her new dress looks in the mirror
she hates her body and the boys tear it down

and when she wakes up she only has coffee
but still she's pinned by the weight of her dreams
finally she slips out into the morning
and nothing she looks at is quite what it seems

she drinks until morning sleeps until nightfall
and doesn't remember the hours that passed
she wrote you a letter trying to tell you
all of the things that she thinks you should know
she once had a baby he died in the bathroom
she's running from all of the things she can't face

and when she wakes up she only wants coffee
but she's pinned by the weight of her dreams
finally she slips out into the morning
and nothing she looks at is quite what it seems

Women love this song, and it's not hard to understand why--it touches on a lot of major themes that almost all women go through at one point or another. The more personal a song is for me, the more I distance myself from it--here, I use "she" instead of "I" because, otherwise, it would just be too painful to sing and to listen to.

I've never taken speed, nor had an abortion/miscarriage, but I personally know girls/women who have, so I pulled their experiences in to add depth to the song. Everything else is completely true and has happened to yours truly. An older couple once mocked this song by saying "You young people and your problems---" as if this song catalogued things that were over-the-top and melodramatic rather than realistic and pertinent.

I can't write songs about big, grand things, although I do think that my songs do explore larger themes in a smaller way. If we can't love and be loved by one other person, how can we ever be expected to have compassion for the whole of humanity? And the subtle political commentary of the girl's small town rural home being barren, and decimated by soulless, efficient factory farming...I always like when I can slip in little things like that.

That's the thing about songwriting, when you're mostly heard live--there's no time for the listener to catch, ponder and assimilate those subtleties. In one listen, all you're going to come away with from this song is the sort of whiny coffeehouse girl singer thing...but, as with most girls, there's more churning here beneath the surface than anyone realizes. Was the baby the result of a drunken date rape? A mutual sexual experience? The numbness and isolation in this song is staggering, but because it is felt by a girl who is also concerned with how she appears to boys, a lot of listeners feel no qualms about dismissing it.

And all she wants is a cup of coffee and perhaps someone to share it with. How decimated can one person be when that small pleasure will be consolation enough for all that she's endured? Unable to conceive of all her wrongs being redressed, she settles on one small, achievable goal to strive for, a focus point that will help her get through the drunken nights, the uncomfortable encounters with strangers, the hours spent caught in reverie about all that's she's had and lost...

Anyway. Um. Yeah. That's what this song is about. As I see it anyway.

H - E - Double Hockey Stick

2005-12-10T11:33:00.000-06:00

Hungry hungry hippos
hurry home -
having hardly heard
heaven's homeward heave
hush Halifax.
Hurry, Horatio.
Henry's home, having hard helpings.
Hungry hungry hippos
hurry home, Henrietta.
hurry home, Hugo.
highways have hard hitchhikers -
hungry hungry hippos
hurrying home.

Well, that's a bit of nonsense.

Here, to justify posting it at all, really, is the cover of my new album, due out in spring, which will not likely feature this song. (Well, maybe as a hidden track)

olgar of omaha

2005-12-07T01:06:00.000-06:00

ode of obfuscation

orchestrated omniscience opining obliquely,
"only opportunists ought overtly object".
odysseus or oedipus?
obnoxious on occasion,
officers of oligarchy offer only ordeals,
orators of overly optimistic options,
odd oaths ooze odious omissions,
objections over objectivity,
onomatopoeia or oragami?
original orphan otters organize opposition.

(c)2005 wm g lane a.r.r.

thank you for the assignment!

One Last Short Poem

2005-12-06T21:18:00.000-06:00

Not done with an H song yet, but here's another song from the new album. Take some photos for the cover in the morning!
Wrote this the week Hunter S Thompson and Arthur Miller died.

ONE LAST SHORT POEM

Just before Hector
Died in the night
He took out a chewed ballpoint pen
For the first time
Since the whole thing in Stockholm
He started writing again

Chorus (2x)
One last short poem
One more for the road

Just eight short lines
About drinking beer
By the tracks where Neil Cassady died
And hoping the train
Would slow down enough
That he could jump on for a ride

Chorus

Hector then tore
The page from his notebook
Folded it over twice
Wrote on the back
“deconstruct this one, suckers!”
he was laughing
when he closed his eyes

Chorus

attn: here's your assignment

2005-12-05T17:54:00.000-06:00

since some of us have been in a dry spell, i had an idea. each of us who are members of this lyric project should each choose a letter (no, i'll choose one for you), and write a song using mostly alliterations on that particular letter. al, you get the letter m, sue, you're j, adam, you're h, julie, you're d, pupfuzz, you're w, garrett, you're o, dave, you're c, narciso, you're s, other person who hasn't yet contributed, you're t. if i forgot someone, you're letter is u. k? love, nancy (ok, ok, i'll be z). good luck, people. p.s. - don't tell narciso that i am a , uh, packer's fan. there! i said it!!!

Love Your Son (c) 199? nancy connelly

2005-12-03T20:47:00.000-06:00

this is one of the few songs i wrote from an outside perspective. it was inspired by some boys for whom i used to babysit; i was friends w/ their parents who were going thru very bittter, retaliatory divorces. i mean, real bitter. i felt so sorry for these kids. i tried to get inside their heads and write what i thought they were thinking, thus used simple, childlike language as well.
(also the title can be taken two ways obviously, as a sign-off on the letter or as a command)

dear mom and dad
i wish i was dead
this custody fight
put a bomb in my head
now i'm afraid that i could explode inside.
dear mom and dad
you fucked up my life
you say to be happy
but i feel like
running away or finding a place to hide.

(ch) cuz you treat me like a paper
your lawyers tear me up
you fight to see who gets me
and swear to god it's love
i wonder what i'm here for, sometimes
love, your son.

dear mom and dad
i'm crying, here's why:
it just isn't fair
that you make me take sides
and use me to get at each other like some kind of game
dear mom and dad
your lies make me mad
but you say to smile
whenever i'm sad
that bomb's gonna go off pretty darn soon i'd say

cuz you treat me like a wishbone
it isn't very fun
getting pulled in two directions
by the people that you love
i wish i was a dead guy sometimes
love, your son.

dear mom and dad
i wish i was gone
and then when they found me
you'd have to be strong
and tell the police it's all your fault you're under arrest
dear mom and dad
it's almost too late
that bomb keeps on ticking
inside of my brain
and when a kid blows up then who's gonna clean up the mess?

could i testify against you?
who would the judge believe?
who would be on my side?
who's looking out for me?
i wish i was a grown-up, i'd sue you both for killing me (3x).
***

a small affair

2005-12-03T16:11:00.000-06:00

My second album, A Small Affair, of which all hard copies are gone, is now available for purchase on iTunes.

and all the populous rejoiced.

Tell you friends. or enemies. depending on your perspective.

When Kevin Comes Marching Home

2005-12-01T18:48:00.000-06:00

The songs for the upcoming album are divided into two sets: The "a team" (songs that'll definitely go on) and the "b team" (songs that may or may not). Out of the 10 or so b team songs that I'll give a shot at, only about 2-3 will make it. This is one of the b-team songs, written over a day or so in July and then played about once, expanding on another Cornersville character mentioned briefly in "New York Rain."

WHEN KEVIN COMES MARCHING HOME

When Kevin comes marching home again
I doubt that they'll have a parade
just some friends and relations down at the airport
meeting him by baggage claim
he'll smile politely and kiss all the cheeks
but he won't look at you in the face
as he hugs you briefly, then heads for his car
and peels his old stickers off right away.
You'll get in the front seat and put on a brave face
and drive off and leave me alone
I know that I won't see you much anymore
when Kevin comes marching home

When Kevin comes marching home again
hurrah, hurrah and all that
He won't grow his hair back, and he'll smoke like a fiend
and he won't ever show up to class
we'll wonder if he died and sent back a ghost
to fill in his place over here
and once it finds out that it's not fooling anyone
it'll fade til it just disappears
Well, I can't quite be certain, but he sure sounded different
when I last talked to him on the phone
We can safely assume that things won't be the same
when Kevin comes marching home

What if spends all his time in the basement
"exercising his arm?"
and thinking of moving to south Indiana
to work on his great uncle's farm?
Or handing out pamphlets down by the park
that ramble and don't make much sense?
Or selling those copies of his god-awful poems
for two bucks and ninety-nine cents?
taking the drugs that he swore off before
and constantly asking for loans?
I'm only saying that you know it might happen
when Kevin comes marching home

Don't get me wrong, when Kevin comes back
man, I hope to God he's okay
But he just looks like hell in those pictures he sent
though he already did, anyway
Have you seen that one where he's in his green jacket
standing by some sort of gate?
All I can say is that I've never seen him
with that kind of look on his face.
Of course I'm still hoping that it's all in my head
and I think maybe I should just go
Cause it'll only be harder (for me, anyway)
when Kevin comes marching home.

another try

2005-11-30T22:55:00.000-06:00

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

2005-11-30T22:45:00.000-06:00

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.

the wrong track

2005-11-29T02:54:00.000-06:00

photo of garrett and george clinton may 05

try to say it isn't true,
the blame falls on you,
when you hide,
and seek that something else you don't show,
and you think they won't know.
time will carry on i know,
and so will your solo show.
the tide will turn and you will see,
it was me that set myself free.
and if you're thinking in fact i may be comin' back,
you're on the wrong track.
if you see me at all it'll be from the back.
i went out of my way for you,
and what did you do?
you lied,and looked out for yourself,
and that's why i said goodbye.
why won't you look at me,
how clear could it be?
the price i pay to play too high,
i ask why,
should i even try?
well i'm thinking in fact that you're starting to crack,
you're on the wrong track,
i think you're dying because of your soul turning black.
you're on the wrong track.

copyright 2005 wm g lane all rights reserved

so many true and sordid romance stories,a case of moral clairvoyance.
combining into the essence of disaster,the elements descended upon all of them.
i'm sure noone felt whole again,ever...sad.
an interesting set of events still attend this story,
and another new song waits in the wings to be born.
cryptic,huh?

Things

2005-11-29T00:40:00.000-06:00

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

2005-11-28T18:00:00.000-06:00

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

damocles

2005-11-26T17:29:00.000-06:00

crowd surfer at a P-funk show.

we live underneath the sword of damocles,
in a web of hatred and conspiracies.
i remember when i was a little boy i,
thought about a world of opportunities.
armageddon waits upon our beckon,
and i have grown up fearing for that day.
now i am a man i,
want to understand i,
wanna know what's standing in our way.
why is the world so dangerous?
how i wish that i could make it change.
let us bow our heads and pray together,
that our leaders listen to our pleas,
to be what they should be,
what a world it could be,
may the meek one day compel the mighty,
to finally keep their promises,
for a world with peace and harmony.
it's time to end this persecution,
lay the weapons down and find the solution,
learn how not to kill,
then our children they will,
bring about the peaceful revolution.
believe that peace is possible,
we are weary waiting to be free.
let's raise our voices all at once.

copyright 2005 wm g lane all rights reserved

damn i've been writing for a long time.
i think this was written in 1981,when it was somewhat less ridiculous to express a desire to see fairplay prevail in society.
today it seems more important to seem important,
if that fails one can always opt for the closed circuit vacuum option,
it's so comfy when nothing can get in or out.
if you can afford it.

Big Blank Space

2005-11-26T15:50:00.000-06:00

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 ?

twelve ounces.

2005-11-26T11:43:00.000-06:00

now i've been straight, for a while now
been hangin on to that wagon like it's goin out of style now
and it's a lot harder to go home since you ain't around
but i been doin my best just to keep my face off the ground now

'cause i ain't goin down without a fight.
there ain't no barley, corn or rye gonna get me what i need tonight
you might say it serves me right,
but i got twelve ounces in my left hand and nothing to do with my right.

and i ain't chasin girls around now
'cause this old bag of bones don't feel like gettin shot down now
but i won't lie, it'd be allright if i just found
something soft and round to put my arms around now

countin the days since you been gone now
and every day spent's another day i meant to turn the lights back on now
hittin the wall and stumblin around while you're out hittin the town
and if i could find the door i might just track you down now.

gettin hard to keep my breakfast down now
'cause like white on rice or stink on shit this feeling keeps hangin around now
and every time i try to stand i fall right down
but i been doin my best just to keep my face off the ground now

'cause i ain't goin down without a fight.
there ain't no barley, corn or rye gonna get me what i need tonight
i guess it serves me right,
but i got twelve ounces in my left hand and nothing to do with my right.

i'll ease my worries about being taken seriously by posting a song that cannot be taken seriously.
not only does nearly every line in the verse end with "now" (see: beach boys - fun, fun, fun.) thereby eliminating that pesky rhyming problem, but i took it a step further by rhyming "right" with "right" in the chorus.
honestly i didn't have the beach boys tune in mind when i wrote this (i can't say i had much of anything in mind) , and i hadn't noticed the "right" rhyming until it was pointed out to me, since i'm using it as a different word and had never written it down.
anyway, this is a good example of composing while completely loaded.

book report

2005-11-26T01:39:00.000-06:00

the viking railroad was started in 1487 in japan by dutch colonists. they travelled very far with there knowledge of railroad tracks . the king let them live there and build a railroad for the palace. then they were invaded by the odomans and had to stop there work in japan. these innovative settlers then moved to paris (france) but there trade skills were not developed enough for this advansed society. they then found an ambassador named creme de cocoa and the rest is history.

a very special person's birthday

2005-11-23T20:05:00.000-06:00

everybody!!!
it is our precious nancy connelly's birthday november 24,
so feel free to leave any salutations you wish in the comments section below.
i for one want to say first that i hope your years on this earth are noted by not only those near you but the whole world which you brighten with your being.

New York Rain

2005-11-23T05:50:00.000-06:00

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

what are we gonna do without you?

2005-11-22T23:46:00.000-06:00

if i try to buy some time,
if you could listen to what i've been goin' through,
you might change your plans and wait a while.
if i show i know your mind,
would you be willing to,since i'm in love with you,
give me another chance to make you smile?
i'll never get it wrong again,i'm still your lover and your friend,
i know i'm guilty of a sin...
what are we gonna do without you?
i can see this had to be but then again i don't,
you will and then you won't,
just take me in your arms and let it go.
i'll never get it wrong again,i'm still your lover and your friend,
i know i'm guilty of a sin...
what are we gonna do without you?
don't go away if you do i will die,
it's breaking my heart and it's making me cry,
baby don't do it i know we'll get through it.
try to believe me i swear that it's true,
one day you'll see that i've always loved you,
think of where we have been,
how can this be the end?

copyright 2005 wm g lane all rights reserved

sometimes you have a song that screams overdone cliche like this one does.
but the thing is i meant all of it,and the lyric fits the music so deftly that i'm sure it was the muses conspiring to ensure the message reached its intended soul.
i was in no condition to fight for myself...i got picked up and carried out on this one,but i fought so bravely i was granted the honors even in defeat.imagine my surprise when i came to and realized i hadn't been finished off...something to be thankful for in this season of thanksgiving.

the whisky song (expectations)

2005-11-22T19:24:00.000-06:00

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.

hey julie

2005-11-21T21:27:00.000-06:00

i just went through everything and can't find this one song of yours "tonight"(?) to tell you that the line "i don't know what tom waits for" is bloody brilliant.

sacred ground

2005-11-21T20:46:00.000-06:00

play like you want to
and fuck all the critics
defy all the trends
and the radio mimics
be who you are
without any gimmicks.
adorn your own altar
with dreams that define you
secure a safe harbor
where peace can remind you
to loosen the worries
that waste time and bind you.

(ch:) cuz you're here and it's now
claim your own sacred ground.

stay for the giving
and not just the taking
don't think of the money
or love you're not making
life is a chore
but there's joy in the raking.
sadness may stalk you
like a merciless hunter
when you're vulnerable
she can steal your thunder
if she lowers her gun
be bold and confront her
(ch)
there's strength in contentment
there's joy in surrender
you're most radiant
when you're not a pretender
so settle your soul
let love be your center
(ch)
***

eternity

2005-11-20T22:43:00.000-06:00

i've been to the mountain,
i've seen ponce de leon's fountain,
but i spilled that cup upon the ground.
there was a little voice that told me,
that while eternity's unfolding,
i'd never find much time to write things down.
the philosophers compel me,
to the psychiatrists who sell me,
on the idea i still belong around.
that's the funny thing about eternity,
if it were real,
it wouldn't be a thing to worry over,
it would be a thrill.
it could change everything.
i wouldn't live forever wondering what time it was,
what day,what week,what month it was,
like i do now.
but wait a minute i would be alone,
and if i lost the will to live,
could i still kill myself?
no, i'd never kill myself.
i wouldn't want to spend eternity remembering,
remembering,
remembering.
like i do now.

copyright 2005 wm g lane all rights reserved

this is a great example of the song writing itself because it wants to BE.
i have no idea whatsoever what this means.but somehow it seems true.

Invisible Sin

2005-11-20T15:13:00.000-06:00

Here's a new song...

Invisible Sin
A touch that burns through the skin
Desire rising from within
Noone sees the damage
of a lust so savage
It's an invisible sin
Invisible sin
Invisible sin

Uncomforatble silence
Prolonged by thoughts of violence
Noone sees the damage
Of a hate so savage
It's an invisible sin
Invisible
Invisible sin

We execute the obvious offenders
Cover up for salvation's defenders
Accept theives disguised as lenders
Never seeing, never seeing nefarious pretenders

A rich man appears wiser
Hiding all his money like a miser
Noone sees the damage
Of a greed so savage
It's and invisible sin
Invisible sin
Invisible sin

copyright 2005 susie windish

The Singer But Not the Songs

2005-11-20T13:43:00.000-06:00

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

on the range (c) 1997 n. connelly

2005-11-18T20:01:00.000-06:00

i wrote this when i was waitressing and feelin sorry for myself.

Your ego ripped, you count your tips
and you peddle home
belie your pride and ride your bike
through city-scapes alone
with a meager wad of singles
but the jingle of the change
could be sleigh bells
or run-away bells
on a serf's ankle chains.
the billboard porn, the blare of horns
exhaust fumes and the trash
defile and scold like bad fortunes told
on every street that you pass
the celebrated schemers
shun the sweepers of the stage
everyone's stabbing at survival
like rivals on the range.
(ch) on the range where they know
it's eat or be eaten
don't complain or impose
don't go down when you're beaten
where the predators push and you'll run
in exchange for a handful of crumbs.
you can't escape, they make you wait
for some comfort or relief
now you feel instead like a leper sent
to a colony of thieves
stealing time and money
out of both hands of the clock
that's how you get it -
grab it and spend it
when your life's too deep in hock.
so go up the stairs, wash off your share
of the workaday grime
from that weary face, they never sensed a trace
of a human inside
scabs across your sorrow
keep you picking at your pain
climbing the ladder just doesn't matter
your ashes scatter on the range
(repeat ch).
***
i never knew if the saying was "eat or be eaten "or "eat or get eaten". does it matter? also, for those too young to know, clocks used to have "hands" before everything was digital.

Me And My Cat

2005-11-17T03:34:00.000-06:00

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.

brother's keeper

2005-11-16T21:31:00.000-06:00

julie requested this one. i cut out the last verse when i perform it cuz otherwise the song is too long, and it's kind of slow and repetative. a good way to lose your listener's attn. is to be too long-winded esp. if the song is in a slower meter.

the news is bad and it's getting worse
you've fallen hard into the dirt
mom drives down and she pays your dues
she bails you out and she buys your food.
you rarely noticed our concern
every bridge we built, you burned
it's always been somebody else's fault
we open doos then you walk out.
(ch): where are you, i sometimes wonder
whether to probe any deeper
and ask myself a simple question
am i my brother's keeper?
you're like a ghost who is sometimes mentioned
she shakes her head and diverts the question
we move along to a lighter topic
she smiles tight she becomes robotic.
you're never there now when we all gather
pretending there's no before and after
there's an empty space in the family picture
your daughter's in it, brother don't you miss her?
(repeat ch).
i'm sorry for all the times i shunned you
i turned my back when i should have hugged you
if you ever want some kind of reconnection
just take a step in this direction.
***

It's Always July

2005-11-16T16:26:00.000-06:00

It's Always July

V1
Do you remember, when the sun was bright gold?
Now it's December, and out love's turning cold.
Winter is hard, one thing remains true;
darling before you leave, please believe.

Chorus
It's always July, when I look in your eyes.
A hot summer sun; our love just begun.
I never will forget the fireworks when we met.
It's always July.

V2
Our love was a summer breeze; we found paradise.
Now it has begun to freeze,with kisses like ice.
Winter is hard, sometimes love is hard too;
darling before you leave, please believe...

Repeat chorus

Bridge
And with the winter chill
Our love drifts like the snow
I have that first summer still
darling don't you know

(key change)
Repeat chorus

copyright 2004 Al Geierman, Susie Windish, all rights reserved.

Another November

2005-11-16T03:19:00.000-06:00

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

i aint goin' nowhere

2005-11-15T23:01:00.000-06:00

i aint goin' nowhere

most of the time i spend wonderin',
am i right or wrong,
to fall in love,
and be in love with you like i am?
i've done my fair share of wanderin',
i'm here and then i'm gone,
but whenever i'm with you,
i'm right at home where i am.
don't you fear,i'm right here,
and i aint goin' nowhere.
i don't have much for explanations,
on how this came to be,
but the closer we become,
the more i know,you're right for me.
i think i have a solution,
if you'll always be with me,
then the two of us will lead a single life,
in harmony.
don't you fear,i'm right here,
and i aint goin' nowhere.

copyright 2005 wm g lane all rights reserved

of course i have love songs.
having a blast posting this stuff!
julie let's record!

lyrics requests

2005-11-15T21:36:00.000-06:00

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!

interference

2005-11-15T20:46:00.000-06:00

what's the point in staying here,
interference,making its appearance.
you reduced your financiers to bitter tears,
and after all,
these years you can let yourself outside again.
all our finest hours are behind us they constantly remind us.
when noone meets you at the gate,
what it indicates,
is how low you rate.
out into the world without a friend.
it's killing you that you're so without a clue,
what can you do but accept your fate?
they're telling you that it doesn't matter what you do,
even if they wanted to it's far too late.
so make the most of what you hear,
apparitions making your decisions.
maybe if you change your hair they would treat you fair,
act as if they care when you get upon the stage to play.
all your passion splashin' in the limelight,
when you can get the rhyme right.
why be just a mannequin,
if you began again and took a stand again.
you know you'd be remembered in the end.

copyright 2005 wm g lane all rights reserved
photo:some huge rock show,duh

i once mentored a little oblivia who had small town preconceptions of a big time career and was long on form but short on substance.she finally learned that this biz isn't what it's made out to be and scattered off into suburbia to hack out a relationship with a poor schmuck of a deluded bar star.all that shameless promotion and "fleshpressing" made her a gadfly with a social disease most likely...irony was that there always was a chance if she'd had been herself,but she didn't even know who that was after so much denial.in the end i held the bag for stating the truth,it wasn't what she wanted to hear.
a gadfly is a person that can make the whole world cringe.
this song is chock full of direct references to conversations we had,and the people who were so involved in wrecking in someone else what they could never attain themselves.it isn't like i don't know what i'm talking about,it's the only thing i do know about.

Hello

2005-11-14T18:30:00.000-06:00

So here's a bit about me. I've played guitar (not always very well, well never very well) since I was 9. I couldn't remember the lyrics to songs (my teacher made me sing and play at the same time, what a concept), so I started to write my own songs around that time. Then I stopped and started playing guitar again at 16, and writing again. Then I stopped at 22 and didn't write or play 'til I was 29. Then I never stopped. Looking at my post, I'm thinking, maybe I should play those numbers in the pick four. If I add my current age, 39, I could play the little lotto.

Why all the stops and starts? Because my life basically sucked til I was 29.

Anyhoo, I love songwriting and songwriters and am very glad that Perdita decided to start this with the inspiration from Nancy. I will post more soon. And Ciso, thanks for checking out the coffee song and posting your jittery jingle;-).

So critique all me fragments and grammatical errors now would you!?! and then pass me the six pack of mickey's big mouth....

SusieQ

0 comments

2005-11-14T11:54:00.000-06:00

not to be too rough here...am i to assume from the lack of commentary,from anyone,
that my pieces are perfect in their state and require none? Or,shall i think that there aren't any viewers of this blog?
may i suggest to,and gently remind those of us participating in,or viewing this blog...this is one of the few places where one has the opportunity to critique an artist in this world,in fact, they're INVITING you to.
good for you julie for putting the effort into providing this venue for us and let's get some greater participaton from you writers.let's see what you got,and if you come up short let's see how you improve.
C'MON,TYPE SOMETHIN'!!!

I Declare a Nate Vasher Day in Chicago

2005-11-14T02:19:00.000-06:00

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

2005-11-14T01:57:00.000-06:00

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

just icons

2005-11-13T03:20:00.000-06:00

it must be the phase of the moon,
i can take it or leave it,
but the time appeases me,
we've got all the time in the world to see.
the talk of the town settled down,
and the attractions,
and factions,
got the better of me.
but that doesn't mean it was fair,
but we're together,
so whatever,
we should really clear the air.
i think i know how we ended up there...

i'm not trying to pretend,
there are any happy endings,
it's an awful lot of work,
insurmountable.
we're only just icons,
in a world of imposters,
i guess that's how it works...
it's unfathomable.

copyright 2005 wm g lane all rights reserved

proof perfect that something can be salvaged after a stupid saturday.

how deep does it go?

2005-11-12T15:06:00.000-06:00

a typical day at the office:
i remember the interaction there,
around the table of despair,
the twisted faith of the unfair.
we began at the place where we left off,
and all the neighbors they would scoff,
at the ideals we held aloft.
the thought of us undoing all that magic on our own,
is just about impossible to comprehend alone.

you can say what you want about my choices,
i believe my tiny voices,
that take no heed of grace and poise.
is every life as tragic and disfunctional as this?
is it so unavoidable that ignorance is bliss?
i just want to know,
how deep does it go?

i remember the halcyon,
the passion play that we put on,
was too intense to call it gone.
the echo of that symphony is slowest to receed,
the composition of the theme reflecting thought and deed,
i still want to know,
how deep does it go?

copyright 2005 wm g lane all rights reserved

another coded message.
this is actually a true story. the names and events have been removed.
i rhymed voices,choices,and poise is...
i thought i was ever so clever.
being silent about something doesn't make it go away,
jealousy and envy destroy everything good in the world,
it literally kills some people to be happy that someone else is happy.
nice try though.

before you fell down

2005-11-12T14:17:00.000-06:00

this is one of my newest songs i wrote in the philomysterical vein,prophecy perhaps,history def...crypticism about feeling it all too much,too much at the same time.songs are like that sometimes, where you don't really know what it is that is coming out at the time,nor or you allowed to understand it later...but yet something about the "feel" compels one to reexamine the thing forever.

before you fell down

it came as a surprise when i was told of your demise,
they said it must have been your seasons in the sun.
the way you took your leave and everything that i believed in,
made me think that you would ever after run.
and indeed you do,
i remember you.

now and then i 'd get a call,
from someone i don't know at all,
the entire time it must have been you or your ghost.
now i know that suicide's a sin,
and that heaven wouldn't let you in,
did you finally remember who loved you the most?
well hello to you,
i remember too,before you fell down.

i should have figured that you'd show up,
and come back to haunt me and make me crazy,
but what you don't realize is,
i achieved that a long time ago.
and what i've been thinking during the time i've been waiting,
is what an ironic hell it is,
that we've been creating,
just to arrive at the place,
we began from such a long time ago.

call it intuition but a man in my postion,
isn't easily led down a path of reprisals,
but to you i take exception,
so i've prepared for your reception,
with this bitter cup of wine,
and the saints in the bible,
to sing for you,
they remember too,
before you fell down.

copyright 2005 wm g lane all rights reserved

Half the Time

2005-11-12T02:18:00.000-06:00

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!

2005-11-11T21:24:00.000-06:00

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

2005-11-11T21:15:00.000-06:00

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."