(this song is dedicated to every friend in low places)
You can kill a verse, but you can't kill the universe.
You can kill a time, but you can't kill it every way.
You can kill a few seconds, but you can't kill "everydays".
Sometimes people fuck with you
but you have to learn how to play.
Play the game better, a little better and they will say
he lived hard, but he lived well. He had some moments
but they had theirs as well. Time can tell
the better definition of what it all means,
sometimes years away makes it all seem
a little more accessible, a little more streamed
a little more balanced, a little less screamed.
After you're all there's a little more me
in the puddle on the floor and the moth
on the screen. There's a little less rattle,
a little less shake, a little more roll,
a little more to take.
Memoirs in rhyme and verse a little less earthquake.
We had a time to sit down and it was not time to take.
Sometimes is the name of a song no one likes to sing.
If we ever did, I hoped we had a thing.
There was nothing, in talking, that I thought I couldn't bring.
But now I know that there were and there are
and now I know you better.
I know you, your score, and your scar.
original works of parts
Holiday 9 (return of the painted dinosaur) EP
The Valley of Light
Sunshine never looked so good
on its best day in its "going out" clothes
where the hills fall into the highway.
Snow melts because it has to
along the dashes and double yellows and the crush of
tires and star light slows everything down.
The clouds cast it back
pocket change to cups,
all of it a little homeless.
Staring at the tach and the glitter,
headlights out for a while,
the trees are starting to sing, scarved in white tonight.
Dread Not (the code)
"I look after you,
you bet your ass
you better be
looking after me."
The phone rings and I am asleep
talking to you. The phone rings again
and I am out of bed and on my saddle
looking for "the spot I know" between the tracks and trees,
still sleeping while I kick the pedals
to get where the getting is good and by the time
my consciousness decides to rise everything's gone and
everyone's there
in good spirit, but I brought my own and
home is where the hearth is,
bonfired and inspired by a thing as simple as
a time of year.
Spitting distance to the river,
laid back on
railroad rocks and backpacks for pillows
eyes night
it is good to be near you. Everyone else
the bonus.
A beat machine on a handheld
kicks up the way I know you and you know me
by smell. Teeth spread in the star eyed sky
like blue glow sticks and we,
for a few more minutes, cash in karma points
before the new year sets,
talking about the fishing licenses
we will never get and who won what
long bet set last January and
the river is crystal clear before us.
Begging a stone to be skipped.
"I look after you,
you look after me."
We skate a little bit.
Tonight is special,
the definition of
an exception.
The Toast Never Said
All I want in this new year
is peace on Earth
even if I have to kill
every last motherfucker
on this God damned planet
to get it.
Super Easy (stick the landing)
Catching snowflakes with a tongue
is an art.
It is cold outside. It is cold inside.
What else is new.
The sledding has been
a joy.
Laughing like this years before.
Disposable cameras
were the rage. Snowballs still
make the same sound.
Everything changed and nothing.
Watching it all fall down.
Do not be so
whatever it is called.
Hearts are
doing what they do.
Along the expanse of drift covered parking lot,
street lights and all,
there is space to dream between flakes of snowfall.
Sunshine never looked so good
on its best day in its "going out" clothes
where the hills fall into the highway.
Snow melts because it has to
along the dashes and double yellows and the crush of
tires and star light slows everything down.
The clouds cast it back
pocket change to cups,
all of it a little homeless.
Staring at the tach and the glitter,
headlights out for a while,
the trees are starting to sing, scarved in white tonight.
Dread Not (the code)
"I look after you,
you bet your ass
you better be
looking after me."
The phone rings and I am asleep
talking to you. The phone rings again
and I am out of bed and on my saddle
looking for "the spot I know" between the tracks and trees,
still sleeping while I kick the pedals
to get where the getting is good and by the time
my consciousness decides to rise everything's gone and
everyone's there
in good spirit, but I brought my own and
home is where the hearth is,
bonfired and inspired by a thing as simple as
a time of year.
Spitting distance to the river,
laid back on
railroad rocks and backpacks for pillows
eyes night
it is good to be near you. Everyone else
the bonus.
A beat machine on a handheld
kicks up the way I know you and you know me
by smell. Teeth spread in the star eyed sky
like blue glow sticks and we,
for a few more minutes, cash in karma points
before the new year sets,
talking about the fishing licenses
we will never get and who won what
long bet set last January and
the river is crystal clear before us.
Begging a stone to be skipped.
"I look after you,
you look after me."
We skate a little bit.
Tonight is special,
the definition of
an exception.
The Toast Never Said
All I want in this new year
is peace on Earth
even if I have to kill
every last motherfucker
on this God damned planet
to get it.
Super Easy (stick the landing)
Catching snowflakes with a tongue
is an art.
It is cold outside. It is cold inside.
What else is new.
The sledding has been
a joy.
Laughing like this years before.
Disposable cameras
were the rage. Snowballs still
make the same sound.
Everything changed and nothing.
Watching it all fall down.
Do not be so
whatever it is called.
Hearts are
doing what they do.
Along the expanse of drift covered parking lot,
street lights and all,
there is space to dream between flakes of snowfall.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)