Vignette

There was honor among the
thieves, the only truth
I could believe. But, when the
lies applied to me and
mine it’s better left unsaid.
We could write the hit
parade outside The Masquerade.
The headache comes
in tidal waves, the spoils of the
spoiled. The lines of
history became the scenery.
It’s strictly an accessory,
an image to uphold. But, it’s
all in fun and sin until
someone calls it in. The cycle
comes around again.
But, I’m older now, and don’t
you know, I’ve figured
out the antidote. It overwhelms,
engulfed in smoke.
It’s all we can to cope. Goddamn
these idle hands as
hindsight can. Our hopes and
plans are unfulfilled.
It’s overwhelming. There’s a
proper place and time
though the bags under your eyes,
they don’t lie.
 

Hover Near Fame

I’ll trust as far as I can spit.
You can read
deep into it. New York nightlife isn’t shit
without a
storyboard. I don’t think much impresses
me like a
drunk celebrity. You just fall down and
fall asleep like
the rest (of us). On your way out, don’t
bother picking
up your tab. It’s a stake out. There’s
hanging on with
bated breath, you’re just milking this to
death. So
sad I have to disappoint, her name is not
a selling point.
The drinks are better in this joint where
everyone’s a friend.
Not that the nightlife isn’t great and if I
seem to be irate,
I don’t have tolerance for fakes…what’s
to say. On your
way out, don’t bother picking up your tab.
It’s a stake
out. Your hanging on with bated breath,
you’re just
milking this to death. Somewhere the novelty
wore
thin. When every city I was in there
was an actor
soaked in gin with and entourage. This
is my home
away from home so get a barstool of
your own. I’ll
watch you sinking like a stone…what a
sight. On your
way out, don’t bother picking up your tab.
It’s a stake
out. Hanging on with bated breath your
just milking
this for… Access, what little we possess.
Any other
pays the cover but it wouldn’t be the same.
Excess,
destined to impress. You can follow every
model
but you always try to hover near fame.

From California

Uncommon amount of the time
at home, hardly a
word on the telephone. Finally
find the time to get
to know you. Still mapping it out
like a master plan,
something to do with my idle hands.
Write you a letter
addressed from California. It’s vivid
and strong in my
memory, an absence that smacks of
abandoning. It let
to the battle that ultimately destroyed
us. I’m nothing if
I don’t know your mistakes, the pill is
as bitter as I can take.
It twists like a blade when I leave for
California. I hope that
you know this is killing me, it’s all in
the name of the family.
We only can play the cards the dealer
dealt us. The end of
the cycle is closing in, with you I see
new hope begin again.
There suddenly seems to be promise in
California. As heavy
as all this is weighing me, believe in
the words I am promising.
I’m still here for her. The distance is
only and obstacle, hardly
a match for a miracle. I’m finally ready
to go to California.
 

Hanging On For Hope

Are you hanging on for hope?
The clock
strikes past the hour. Is the pain
enough to choke
the life out? You may never get
to sleep. Your
time is not your time tonight. Her
smile will make
you weak and proud. Do you ever
miss her?
Do you feel the cold wind whisper?
Is there
anything more deafening? Are you
hanging
on for hope? It’s all you’ve got worth
living
for. Is it much too much to cope the
road out?
There’s a tension when we speak.
The income’s
overrated but it’s worth it when we
meet on
common ground. Do you ever miss
her? Do
you feel the cold wind whisper? Is
there anything….
Do you ever cower when the clock
strikes past the
hour? Is there anything more deafening?
Are you
hanging on for hope? It’s all you got,
it’s all you got.
I miss you more that you could know
when I’m gone.
 

The Smoking Gun

An empty house will leave
you fatherless.
The cycle is coming around like my
mother did, but
it’s in her blood. Oh, my brother.
You’ve gotten over
it, gotten older yet. But it’s only
what our hearts will
power. I think I might have found
the smoking gun.
My thoughts trail off for hours. I think
the time has
come to be the one. An empty house
will leave you
fatherless. The cycle is coming around
like my mother
did but it’s in her blood. For the love of
another, if the
habit fits then you must admit. It’s only
what our
hearts will power. I think I might have
found the
smoking gun. My thoughts trail off for
hours.
Maybe the time has come to be the one.

Are You True?

Sending a sobering scent.
It’s all in my
hands to repent. Spectacular sin
that take discipline
to stop. Ellis is hardly a fiend. It’s
achingly clear
I can see. The offer is fair it’s up in
the air to drop.
Are you true? Do you know where
the worlds going
to go? I don’t know if you do. Are
you true? Does
anyone else have a thought? Then
that’s all the time
that we’ve got. The one with the
cards is the only one
you’ve forgot. Over and over again,
the heretics seldom
are friends. The profit is false, believers
are turned to salt.
It’s their fault. Are you true? Do you
know where the
world’s going to go? I don’t know if
you do. Are you true?
It seems clear, if you’re fake, then
there’s no move I can
make. I don’t think that I’ll choose.
Are you true? There’s
no way I can lose. Are you true?

Asleep At The Wheel

The light I followed tonight is only
as bright as the
highway. The sight, try as I might,
I can’t keep the
weight from my eyes. We never
will make load in
if the Ephedrine don’t kick in.
 

Poison In The Ink

Some might say it’s over rated,
staring at their
shoes. You’re arrows don’t have
poison but they
bruise. I can’t make peace with
you. All my heart
is on these pages, open to abuse.
I should try to be
dishonest but I lose. It’s never
been for you. Angry
eyes, there’s poison in the ink.
You’ve got so much
time to think about it. Try to put
your finger on it and
figure out what’s right for me and
mine. Expletives
and explanations fade bruise colored
blue. A thicker
skin develops on the wound. I won’t
change it for you.
I’m just telling the truth.

All Our Vice

It’s a clandestine arrangement
that we never
could get to stick. Every night
under the table with
the sick and the fits. Never cast
as the romantic lead
but somehow on our feet. We’re
just waiting to be
received and the whole scene sighs
relief. Somehow
everyone functions with a barely
visible scar. Never know
the length we’d go was so far, so far.
Some nights I see
the sun come up but don’t remember
where it went down.
A realist whose time has come, it
feels like I’m the only
one. Obstacles to overcome, now
I don’t trust anyone.
So, here’s to all our vice and our secret
double life.
I’ll sleep with one eye open and maybe
you’ll save my
life. Another cool assed show under
the table on the
ground. Keep the floorshow up to
sound and the light
show up to specs. If we drown until
we’re exhausted
it’s what nobody expects. Nothing
left to lose. Everything
to prove. Nothing we can’t do. Not
anything for you.
The words were written wrong. My
life imitates your songs.
On and on and on. Here’s to all our
vice and our secret
double life. I’ll sleep with one eye open,
maybe you’ll save my life.

Worse For The Wear

All my life I’ve been waiting.
It get’s older, it’s
over me. I’d speak but it fails me.
So the dike in the
damn stops the leak. Maybe it’s me
and I’m venting.
I find your speech motivating, watching
life pass you by
on the screen. Just flicker and fading
with a plot like you
wouldn’t believe. Maybe I don’t know
the ending.
Someone ruined my daydream. Aren’t
you spoiled
enough as it is? Whatever you’re saying
won’t bring
anyone closer to this. I know you’re sick.
I wish you
were healing, but you’re worse for the wear.
We keep
tearing the seams we repaired. If we all
had the call to
fair then we wouldn’t be standing here.
 

Slight Return

No Lyrics