What If No One's Watching

if my life were a movie, there would be a sunset and the camera would pan away. but the sky is just a little sister tagging along behind the buildings, trying to imitate their grey. the little boys are breaking bottles along the sidewalk. the big boys, too. the girls are hanging out at the candy store pumping quarters into the phone 'cause they don't want to go home. and i think, what if no one's watching? what it when we're dead, we're just dead? what if it's just us down here? what if god ain't looking down? what if he's looking up instead? if my life were a movie, i would light a cigarette and the smoke would curl around my face. everything i do would be interesting. i'd play the good guy in every scene. but i always feel i have to take a stand, and there's always someone on hand to hate me for standing there. i always feel i have to open my mouth, and every time i do i offend someone somewhere. but what, what if no one's watching? what if when we're dead, we're just dead? what if there's no time to lose? what if there's things we gotta do, things that need to be said? you know i can't apologize for everything i know. i mean, you don't have to agree with me, but once you get me going, you better just let me go. we have to be able to criticize what we love. say what we have to say, 'cause if you're not trying to make something better as far as i can tell you're just in the way. i mean, what, what if no one's watching? what if when we're dead, we're just dead? what if it's just us down here? what if god is just an idea someone put in your head? i mean, what, what if no one's watching? what if no one's watching?

Fixing Her Hair

she's looking in the mirror, she's fixing her hair. and i touch my head to feel, what isn't there. she's humming a melody we learned in grade school. she's so happy, and i think this is not cool. 'cause i know the guy she's been talking about. i have met him before, and i think, what is this beautiful, beautiful woman settling for? she bends her breath when she talks to him. i can see her features begin to blur as she pours herself into the mold he made for her. and for everything he does, she has a way to rationalize. she says he don't mean what he do. she tells me he called to apologize. he says he loves her. he says he's changing. and he can keep her warm. and so she sits there like america suffering through slow reform. but she'll never get back the time. and the years sneak by one by one. she is still playing the martyr. i am still praying for revolution. and she still doesn't have what she deserves, but she wakes up smiling every day. she never really expected more. that's just not the way we are raised. and i say to her," you know, there's plenty of really great men out there." but she doesn't hear me. she's looking in the mirror. she's fixing her hair.

In or Out

guess there's something wrong with me. guess i don't fit in. no one wants to touch it. no one knows where to begin. i've got more than one membership to more than one club, and i owe my life to the people that i love. he looks me up and down like he knows what time it is. like he's got my number. like he thinks it's his. he says, "call me, miss difranco, if there's anything i can do." i say, "it's mr. difranco to you." somedays the line i walk turns out to be straight, other days the line tends to deviate. i've got no criteria for sex or race. i just want to hear your voice. i just want to see your face. she looks me up and down like she thinks that i'll mature. like she's got my number. like it belongs to her. she says, "call me, ms. difranco if there's anything i can do." i say, "i've got spots i've got stripes, too." their eyes are all asking are you in, or are you out. and i think, "oh man, what is this about?" tonight you can't put me up on any shelf, 'cause i came here alone. i'm gonna leave by myself. i just want to show you the way that i feel, and when i get tired you can take the wheel. to me what's more important is the person that i bring, not just getting to the same restaurant and eating the same thing. guess there's something wrong with me. guess i don't fit in. no one wants to touch it, no one knows where to begin. i've more than one membership to more than one club, and i owe my life to the people that i love.

Every State Line

i got pulled over in west texas so they could look inside my car. he said are you an american citizen? i said, "yes sir, so far." they made sure i wasn't smuggling someone in from mexico. someone willing to settle for america 'cause there's nowhere else to go. and every state line there's a new set of laws. and every policeman comes equipped with extended claws. there's a thousand shades of white and a thousand shades of black. but the same rule always applies smile pretty, and watch your back. i broke down in louisiana and i had to thumb a ride. got in the first car that pulled over, you can't be picky in the middle of the night. he said," baby, do you like to fool around baby, do you like to be touched." i said, "maybe some other time. fuck you very much." i'm in the middle of alabama. they stare at me where ever i go. i don't think they like my haircut. i don't think they like my clothes. i can't wait to get back to new york city, where at least when i walk down the street. nobody ever hesitates to tell me exactly what they think of me. a little town in pennsylvania there was snow on the ground. a parked in an empty lot where there was no one else around. but i guess i was taking up too much space as i was trying to get some sleep. 'cause an officer came by anyway and told me i had to leave.

Circle Of Light

standing just outside the circle of light, avoiding the pool cues, watching the game, waiting for you. hanging in the doorway like smoke, like mistletoe. this is where i'll be whenever you come or go. i'm gonna roll you over, gonna peel you back, expose your tender center, watch the juices flow from the crack. gonna peel you out of your protective shell, or i might have to break right in there and raise some hell. i don't have no grand plan for you and me. just nothing is impossible, nothing is unlikely. i'm just riding the tide, nothing more, and it's bound to take me out some before it brings me back to shore. when you look in the mirror, do you see visions of your past? i ain't got time for halfway. i ain't got time for half-assed. when i look in the mirror, i see my days to come. and my face is just a trace of where i'm coming from. just outside the circle of light is where you've been living your whole life. you've got to jump into the center and launch your attack. and then you've got to crawl back in the corners where it's really black.

If It Isn't Her

standing like john wayne, she is full framed. she is center stage, and my imagination is rattling in its cage. i didn't really notice when everything else disappeared, but as far as i'm concerned if it isn't her, it isn't here. she says, "do i know you?" i say, "well, no, not biblically, but i've been waiting for you come and talk to me. i have been playing too many of those boy girl games." she says, "honey, you are safe here. this is a girl-girl thing. i told him i loved him, so he thought i'd roll over and play dead. he was god's gift to hypocrisy with weak knees and a big fat head." she says, "honey, don't tell me that old story, you are boring me. just tell me, do you like me? tell me what you're gonna do now that you're free." standing like john wayne, she is full framed. she is center stage, and my imagination is rattling in its cage. i didn't really notice when everything else disappeared, but as far as i'm concerned if it isn't her, it isn't here.

Good, Bad, Ugly

it was good, good to see you again. good to meet your girlfriend. i'll try not to wonder where you are when you go outside to kiss her in the front seat of your car. it is good, good to be back home. how i missed this time zone. strangers are exciting, their mystery never ends, but there's nothing like looking at your own history in the faces of your friends. and it's bad to have eyes like neon signs. flashing open, open, open, open all the time. and it's bad that i wrapped you in a fantasy and i carry you with me. but lately it seems like everybody's joined at the hip. and i'm still fancy, i'm so fancy, fancy free. sometimes the beauty is easy. sometimes you don't have to try at all. sometimes you can hear the wind blow in a handshake. sometimes there's poetry written right on the bathroom wall. and it's bad that i took that second look. i guess i'm an open book. you know i didn't really intend to embrace you that long. but then again i wasn't the only one holding on.

I'm No Heroine

you think i wouldn't have him unless i could have him by the balls. you think i just dish it out. you don't think i take it at all. you think i am stronger. you think i walk taller than the rest. you think i'm usually wearing the pants just 'cause i rarely wear a dress. well...when you look at me you see my purpose, see my pride. you think i just saddle up my anger and ride and ride and ride. you think i stand so firm. you think i sit so high on my trusty steed. let me tell you i'm usually face down on the ground when there's a stampede. i'm no heroine at least, not last time i checked. i'm too easy to roll over. i'm too easy to wreck. i just write about what i should have done. i just sing what i wish i could say and hope somewhere some woman hears my music and it helps her through her day. 'cause some guy designed these shoes i use to walk around. some big man's business turns a profit every time i lay my money down. some guy designed the room i'm standing in. another built it with his own tools. who says i like right angles? these are not my laws. they're are not my rules. i'm no heroine. i still answer to the other half of the race. i don't fool myself like i fool you. i don't have the power. we just don't run this place.

Coming Up

our father, who art in a penthouse, sits in his 37th floor suite and swivels to gaze down at the city. he made me in he allows me to stand and solicit graffiti until he needs the land. i stand on in my darkened threshold. i am pawing through my pockets the receipts, the bus schedules, the matchbook, phone numbers, the urgent napkin poems. all of which laundering has rendered pulpy. and strange loose change and a key. ask me go ahead, ask me if i care. i got the answer here. i wrote it down somewhere. i just gotta find it. i just gotta find it. somebody and their spray paint got too close. somebody came on too heavy. now look at me made ugly by the drooling letters. i was better off alone. ain't that the way it is? they don't know the first thing, but you don't know that until they take the first swing. my fingers are red and swollen from the cold. i'm getting bold in my old age. so go ahead, try the door it doesn't matter anymore. i know the weak-hearted are strong willed and we are being kept alive until we're killed. he's up there. the ice is clinking in his glass. i don't ask, i just empty my pockets and wait. it's not fate, it's just circumstance. i don't fool myself with romance. i just live phone number to phone number. dusting them against my thighs in the warmth of my pockets which whisper history incessantly asking me where were you. i lower my eyes wishing i could cry more and care less. yes it's true, i was trying to love someone again. i was caught caring, bearing weight. but i love this city, this state. this country is too large and whoever's in charge up there had better take the elevator down and put more than change in our cup or else we are coming up.

Make Them Apologize

my breast is cradled in the curve of my guitar. i'm breaking strings and other things playing hard. no, i'm not on the rag, but i'm not on the run. i am matching the big boys one for one, and i must admit, i'm having myself some fun. because the music business is still run by men, like every business and everything. but we can sing like a son of a bitch. make them twitch around their eyes. make them apologize. he had a mean streak three miles wide. it was a long walk to the other side. she tried to get through it holding on to her smile. but he wasn't worth the time it takes to make that mistake. he just wasn't worthwhile. she's been under command of the wrong man. and she'll give you everything except the upper hand. she was his mother, and his lover, and his wife. now she wants the luxury of her own life. 'cause the marriage business is still run by men, like every business and everything. but she can sing like a son of a bitch. make him twitch around his eyes. girl, make him apologize. they all want to lead the fight and they know what they know all right. but there's so much they don't understand. what about the other sex? what about the other hand? they only know what they've been told and they're well cast. but they don't break the mold, and good sources are not enough. so she calls their bluff. yeah, she calls their bluff. 'cause the revolution business is still run by men, like every business and everything. but we can sing like a son of a bitch. make them twitch around their eyes until they realize. they just don't realize.

The Waiting Song

your basic average super star is singing about justice and peace and love and i am glaring at the radio, swearing, saying that's just what i was afraid of. the system gives you just enough to make you think that you see change. they will sing you right to sleep and then they'll screw you just the same. but i will wait, yes, i will wait for the truth. they think i make a big deal about nothing, but they still think i'm kinda cute. they joke about the status quo to break the ice. once the ice is broken, i hope they all fall through, 'cause this is no joke to me. they don't fool me with their acts of sensitivity. they too shall pass, just like everyone who's only here for my ass. and i can't wait, oh, i can't wait 'til they get their due. baby, i've only got a minute. baby, i have to go. a minute is all my life will ever allow. let's grow old and die together. let's do it now. because you'll do all the jobs no one else will do, and you'll step aside, and you will let me come through. you have all my respect. i'll leave it here when i go. maybe i never told you, baby. maybe you don't know. but maybe if we wait, if we wait things will improve. maybe we just wait and things will improve. you know, they've got to improve. your basic average super star is singing about justice and peace and love and i am glaring at the radio, swearing, saying that's just what i was afraid of. the system gives you just enough to make you think that you see change. they will sing you right to sleep and then they'll screw you just the same. he says, "i know you have to go. you have gone before." we are fighting on two different fronts of the same war. but no matter what else i will do, i will wait for you.

Served Faithfully

he caresses every bottle like it's the first one he's had. saying, it ain't love, but it ain't bad. it's the only reward bestowed upon me, and i have served faithfully. i can see he is scarred from doing some hard time. but i let alone what is broken, 'cause it isn't mine. he strikes out at me when i am within reach. then he reaches for me when i draw the line. sometimes it seems like love is just a fancy word for compromise. you gotta read between the years. you gotta write between the lines. you gotta try to understand the grandness of the man behind the petty crimes and let him off easy sometimes. i have only just met an old, old friend. we've been walking around holding hands. i hope some day he can bend as far as it takes to understand and risk breaking open again.

Imperfectly

i'm okay if you get me at a good angle, and you're okay in the sort of light, and we don't look like pages from a magazine, but that's all right that's all right. i crashed your pickup truck and then i had to drive it back home. i was crying i was so scared of what you would do. of what you would say, but you just started laughing. so i started laughing along saying, "it looks a little rough, but it runs okay. it looks a little rough, but it runs good." anyway. we get a little further from perfection each year on the road. i guess that's what they call character. i guess that's just the way it goes. better to be dusty than polished like some store window mannequin. why don't you touch me where i'm rusty? let me stain your hands. when you're pretty as a picture they pound down your door, but i've been offered love in two dimensions before, and i know that it's not all it's made out to be. let's show them how it's done. let's do it all imperfectly.