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...
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Friday, July 07, 2006
zombie babies
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
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
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
the ballad of thom & lucy
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.
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.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Late Nights
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
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
Monday, April 24, 2006
anything but sad
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
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
Thursday, March 30, 2006
The Song We Never Wrote
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)
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
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)
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)
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
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
Saturday, March 25, 2006
fine
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.
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.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
telling stories
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Nancy and her "food obsessions" :>)
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
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
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
New album now at the printers!
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."
Sunday, February 12, 2006
can't choose (Who do you love?)
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.
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.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Since You've Been Gone
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.
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.
Monday, February 06, 2006
sigh
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
I Wish I Was Your Whiskey (Sweet Perdita)
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...
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...
Monday, January 23, 2006
Hello from Narciso
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.
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.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
mostly these days
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.
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
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)
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)
Friday, January 13, 2006
poems in my grave
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.
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.
Monday, January 02, 2006
Long Way Home (again)
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
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
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