Morningside

Brazilian Iris

Perfect eyes and peasant feet

Brazilian iris, with petals

dark and sweet.

New apostles, perennial and young,

like a new religion, like fire on my tongue.

I’ll take a drink and hope

I never have to drive again.

Like morning glories, this story

is glorious again,

so glorious again.

Analyze what isn't there:

Ask, is it envy?

Is it perfectly cut hair?

New receptors, new pollen to inhale,

taste the liquor and tell the swallowtail.

I’ll take a drink and hope

I never have to drive again.

Like morning glories, this story

is glorious again,

so glorious again.

Bright Red Canna calling,

just slip of tongue.

Your wildflower’s haunting

every song I've sung.

Cold Lake George in summer,

forgive my awful pride.

Your wildflower’s haunting

everywhere I drive.

I’ll take a drink and hope

I never have to drive again.

Like morning glories, this story

is glorious again,

so glorious again.

New City

And on the wide

East Side streets I ride,

I’m on my own

with millions, this is home.

Like Brooklyn bridge,

I sway with every wish,

the flow of cars,

like blood inside my heart.

And I came here to find me

to find my way to

something new

And in the park

I’m happier by far,

and at the Strand

I finally understand.

Like Lennon’s ghost

I’ll sing until I go,

‘til every train

is blood inside my veins

And I came here to find me

to find my way to

something new

The power of the past

already fading fast.

With every borough

what you were goes

out the door,

so hard and fast

hard and fast

for

something new

Prisoner’s Dilemma

The magazines of little men

with centuries they all descend

with old frustrations still inside

like what to do with other minds,

with other minds?

And is it wrong, this love of hearse?

and if we never died, would that be worse?

So sing your song, you love averse.

You didn’t like the khôras? You’re not the first.

The histories of all “great men”

with cults of death they’re born again

with money Shanghaied deep inside,

like jealous lovers’ prying eyes,

love’s prying eyes.

And is it wrong, this love of hearse?

and if we never died, would that be worse?

So sing your song, you love averse.

You didn’t like the khôras? You’re not the first.

For every Nietzsche come again,

with bright Apollo’s businessmen,

with every word you’re mystified,

why is this love not other-wise,

just otherwise?

And is it wrong, this love of hearse?

and if we never died, would that be worse?

So sing your song, you love averse.

You didn’t like the khôras? You’re not the first.

The Lucky Ones

Was it crazy

that you loved me?

It was no one’s fault.

Paranoia

will destroy ya,

Was it all my fault?

There’s no need to remember

all the distance of November,

love is only love for a while.

We’ll forget all the passwords,

all the beauty and disasters

‘cause there’s nowhere we can save these files.

We tried to tell ourselves

we were the ones that we want

with Paris trips and therapists,

and still it was wrong.

And now aren’t we the lucky ones?

We got what was all along,

all along,

what we wanted,

what we wanted.

Do you miss me?

Reminisce me?

Well, it’s no one’s fault.

Were we cursing?

or rehearsing?

It was no one’s fault.

And I’m not here to thank you,

or complain, or obligate you,

It was only love for a while.

So cut me off completely,

like a snap, go on, delete me,

now there’s nowhere we can save these files.

We tried to tell ourselves

we were the ones that we want

with ER trips and pharmacists

when something was wrong,

but now aren’t we the lucky ones?

We got what was all along,

all along,

what we wanted,

so why do I miss you?

Therefore Me

I didn’t know what I was,

I didn’t know chemistry,

didn’t see a place inside there for me.

I didn’t have these good friends,

I didn’t have these enemies,

but now I know the score, heretofore me.

Distance has a way of breaking things down.

Distance has a way of breaking new ground.

So off we go, the new and forgone me.

I still wonder at dreams,

a cloud of lost memories,

like weather in my mind,

my cells stormy.

And love gets lost in the trees,

almost fast, almost free,

like a raven calling “never, nevermore me!”

Distance has a way of breaking things down.

Distance has a way of breaking new ground.

So off we go, the new and forgone me.

Cold

Who were we?

The way that we were

is a stone in our past

that we throw,

and the future is glass.

Who are we?

We walk the same roads

and we’re both of us cold,

but your anger

still burns like a fire.

Cold

On the Run

The heart turns

windmills at night,

too close

to the runway

for our flight.

The blades cut

pieces of sky,

we crash

in the desert

for a while.

We ran away

like others might've done.

We're still on the run.

The heart rains,

thrones full of rust,

lovers

driving new roads

in old cars.

The heart sails

oceans of lust,

steering

by the crossing

of the stars.

We ran away

like others might've done.

We're still on the run.

I have to wait ’til he’s gone.

When you’ve stayed

in so many temporary homes,

you wake up, forget

which one was your own.

All this flux sucks,

this flooding in the sun.

We’re still on the run.

We're still on the run.

I’m tired.

credits

Cashmere

Cashmere felt weird
last year,
but now
it’s all clear, it’s a new year,
there’s no tears,
no vows.

New threads and fears,
new friends and beers
(so cautious now).

Like silk and skin,
I’ll wear this in,
it’ll fit somehow,
it’ll fit somehow.

The last flash
went too fast
like mere cash
and now

My old clothes,
got new holes
like a fools’ golden
crown.

New shoes and shields,
(no Achilles heals
in a hand-me-down)

Like silk and skin
I’ll wear this in
it’ll fit somehow.
It’ll fit somehow.

Walking Over Lava

Be careful as you’re standing on this stone,
‘cause moments ago
it was still in a flow.
And even though it feels as cold as bone
just moments ago
it was hot enough to glow,
oh oh oh.

We’re walking over lava
every single day,
the truth is in the aura,
of everything we say.

Be careful as you’re walking in the snow,
‘cause moments ago
things were green enough to grow.
And even a volcano can be cold
when moments ago
It was hot enough to blow,
oh oh oh.

We’re walking over lava
every single day,
the truth is in the embers
of everything we say.

Just bury me in the mantle
and let me melt away,
just take me to this old planet’s core,
where it’s hell and I’m well everyday,
where it’s hell and I’m well everyday,
where it’s hell and I’m well everyday.

Columbo (I Confess)

Columbo came by at three this afternoon,

came looking for me, with white gum on his shoe.

“So very tragic, so hard to understand.

I didn't do it, I'm really not your man.”

Columbo calms me, says “Everything's okay,

but there's one thing, this bottle of Beaujolais…”

“Oh, well that, yeah, I guess we had a little thing,

It was over before I had a chance to sing,

sing, sing, sing…”

Los Angeles never seemed so cruel to me

Los Angeles only made a fool of me

These futures were never really meant to be

Was it wrong?

Well, my alibi's strong.

Columbo came by at ten again last night,

a slouching raincoat, cigar (without a light),

some Polaroid pics, his dog, and a cassette,

says, “Is this your voice?” and then I start to sweat.

Columbo cross-eyed as I try to explain,

“It might have been me, but that was yesterday.”

“Oh I see, yeah, but now there’s just one more thing,

why was it over before you had a chance to sing, sing, sing, sing…?”

Los Angeles never seemed so cruel to me

Los Angeles only made a fool of me

These futures were never really meant to be

Was it wrong?

Well, my alibi's strong.

I confess, I fell in love, and I was a mess

I confess, I fell in love, I fell in love, and I was a mess.

I confess, I fell in love, and I was a mess

I confess, I fell in love, I fell in love, and I was a mess.

I confess

Morningside

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