1. |
Tim and Jim Johns
01:43
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Jim Johns
writes his name in Magic Marker
throws his catch back at the harbor
works double shifts at Pizza Hut
Tim Johns
drinks Swiss Shandy and Carver
gets a shave at the barber
and his hand and toe tails cut
Jim Johns
loves grillin’
jelly doughnut fillin’
and he hasn’t had a stint put in yet.
Tim Johns
takes amoxicillin,
the train to work and makes a killin’
and yet he’s still in debt.
Jim Johns
wears jeans
dresses up for Halloween
and graduations
Tim Johns
is lean
subscribes to a magazine
on dream vacations
Jim Johns
is an honest guy
came home with a black eye
when he called another man a moron
Tim Johns
doesn’t cry
hopes his party will find
a better country to declare war on
Tim’s humor is lean and dry.
Jim’s on the other end of the BMI.
Tim will likely outlive his wife.
And Jim buys a cheap knife.
Tim wishes he could win in a duel
Jim wants to learn to siphon fuel
Tim is just certain about his views
Jim doesn’t read the news.
Jim Johns
leaves work on a Friday night
box of Mozzarella bites
in the trunk
Tim Johns
hears opinions from the left or the right,
that he feels it’s his right
to debunk
Jim Johns
sits on a jury
although he’s in a hurry
to get back to work
Tim Johns
gets up early
and he’s prepared but he’s worried
always expecting the worst
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2. |
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Making the record was a most holy thing.
Vibrating membranes from vibrating strings.
The drummer did his tracks in the buff.
And the bass was just played off the cuff.
It didn’t matter a lot we didn’t practice enough.
Old friends, it felt like icing on the cake.
We had to be assured that the editing
would not sound fake.
You did twenty vocal takes.
You shower smelled like grapes
and the living room was slightly off limits
due to construction--
are they ever gonna finish?
The sound was bold
But we were not completely sold
until we popped the compact disc in the car
and ripped the roof off the thing with every door ajar.
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3. |
Beluga Bar
00:47
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Will we hear the jukebox play Fleetwood Mac?
Or will the old man have a heart attack?
Will we take a twist of lime?
It has to be worked out each and every time.
We’re here at the Beluga Bar,
and we think we might be here for the booze.
We keep looking around the room for clues,
but we’re relieved to eternally lose.
I want to sit next to old man McCray.
He’s not afraid to pray for nothing.
His withered face looks so gay
against the gray of human suffering.
It’s just a respite from the illusion of decay.
And you don’t have to look too far,
The old man’s always here at the Beluga Bar.
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4. |
Easy Rider
00:50
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Suede and silver spangles
A breathalized belch
I’m buying the Harley Davidson museum
gift shop pouch.
And we’re back on the road,
steadily heading south.
Not a round trip, but a trip far out.
The sky was mauve,
and, wearing burlap clothes,
I accidentally ate a moth.
Next year, the south of France,
we’ll see a Visigoth.
So far, ten beautiful desert nights.
That’s only seven hotel rooms trashed.
You must not inflame our passion thus,
for our rider is just ginger ale and schnapps!
But we won’t think twice
to put ourselves on the map
for most obnoxious band since K.I.S.S.
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5. |
Gray Room Short Party
01:01
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Looks like I’m spending the night in this carpeted retreat,
only mint spears and ice cubes in my glass.
The party broke up early cause the drinking went too fast.
I’m drawing a self portrait from reflections on a plate.
It had been far too early, now it’s far too late.
Enjoying hearing nothing but droplets from the sink,
cat slinking round the table where chilled glasses clinked.
It was a forced occasion, and I’m not a party man,
No wealth, no home, and no date.
But I’m doing an amazingly accurate rendering
of myself: young, thin, soft, simple, and straight.
And I wonder if I could pull off a series of masks.
I’ll say I’m working on that, if Kate comes in and asks.
Or I could always try to sleep
on a gray couch, in a stake-out until morning’s reached.
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6. |
GSP
00:57
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Cruising with my friend in Angie’s van
on the Garden State Parkway.
Like a banner, the world is free.
The world is New Jersey.
Cruising down the GSP
The cars all dropping stains,
shifting, shifting lanes.
The roof of the sky with its eye
and its long goodbye.
Cruising down the GSP
I’m not attached to the work of my hands,
have no future plans.
This place is the world to me,
one foot on the gas to go free.
Cruising down the GSP
The lightning, fog and clouds
around the houses, stores, and crowds
are a refuge, a delight to me.
All I ever see.
Cruising down the GSP
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7. |
Middle Names
00:51
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I’m an idea
you’re an idea.
We’re both ideas in my head.
I’m a bottle of vinegar,
you’re a slice of bread.
You’re a King-size comforter,
I’m the nuptial bed.
You’re a month-old callous
I’m a dullened cross-cut saw.
I’m a corrupt district judge,
and you’re the law.
I’m a hungry alligator,
you’re just out of my reach
I’m an old timey doctor,
you’re a leech.
I’m waiting to find the courage
to throw out these middle names--
all these nicknames and baggage,
all these antique frames.
And now I’m burning up the forest
where the trees obscured my view,
losing my entire purpose
for something to do.
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8. |
Old Friends
00:33
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When you moved to Pasadena,
I thought it would never last.
Now I need someone to help me.
You took a plane, I took the bus.
I need a friend to last
and too much damn rest.
Even with all times past
you were right back in the mix--
to tell the time, to sleep in shifts,
to read the paper through a double thick lens,
and to be friends.
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9. |
One Last Calzone
01:34
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You were often mistook
for the Clarksdale crook
who wrote the book
It was entirely hype
The time seemed to be ripe
for a high-level gripe
I left you in Rome
to go back home
One last calzone
You left the tent of youth
to pursue the truth
of gin and vermouth
Now you’re always there
in these dreams I’m aware
that you just don’t care
I want to run away
just for a day,
you always seem to stay
So I watch the balloons
from the Imperial Dunes
with some macaroons
Wait for them to be poked,
for poison oak
or to choke
I got so lonely in that Swiss chalet
at Montego Bay,
the Ionesco play
I’m off my Croquet game
and it’s a crying shame
I don’t have you to blame
I saw the sights,
the soirees at night
where pretty strangers fight
And I’m always surprised
when a morning arrives
that doesn’t feel like an extension of the night
Sometimes I wonder, are you writing your life?
I could have been your killer
I could have been your wife
And I would reply so earnestly
if ever you referred to me,
I’m addicted to emergency
But if ever you decide not to hide
You’d be within your rights
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10. |
Rage Man
00:51
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If ever there was a man who needed help
This guy who talks to his son like he talks to himself
Leaving a rage footprint on his head, on his head.
He ruined everyone’s day
Never asked if he was ok
when his son fell to pieces.
Only a man like he
could make a trip to the park dark
and in the summer he litters all the beaches.
And we’re watching you always.
As soon as your hand is raised.
But we can’t protect your boy from the methods you employ,
the rage that you enjoy, you selfish, idiot man.
You have no idea how far your rage will span.
You’re a rage man.
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11. |
South Florida Boy
00:53
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Underneath the palms is a husky prince,
a man who makes friends with his axe.
He can be seen in front of Walmart
sucking down a Winston mint.
To proffer a bottle opener is the highlight of his life.
He knows a lot about killing rats.
And he definitely cares about sheetrock
more than any Joe or Pat,
any salesman who’d try to sell you that.
In the Walmart he gets a fresh start to the week,
buying marshmallows, new car mats,
and an adirondack chair, purportedly teak.
There’s no debate about the vibrancy he brings,
and he always stays up watching TV.
A South Florida boy, but when he sings
he takes you all the way from sea to shining sea.
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12. |
Tailspun
02:00
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Hid underneath a black houndstooth jacket,
the man who still holds up the loss.
Down in his front left pocket,
ounce of silver, ounce of sauce.
Burnt toast and tea on the table,
stress crackles on a plate and cup.
He’ll leave it empty when he’s able,
or else he will fill it up.
The dog’s looking round the house for kibble,
finding only empty plates
and a saucer of potato crisps to nibble
left by one of his good-time mates.
It’s time for mean and various fun
now that it’s all over and done.
He’d never have lost her had she won.
He’d not have so tailspun.
Friday nights, he thinks about her
and weekdays around nine and noon.
And on Sundays and Saturday evenings,
tries to meet her soon.
There’s no point in watching any movies
and sometimes it gets hard to read
with the weight of such distractions,
dishes and the dog to feed.
The cold, silent air in the churchyard
is the only way to clear his thoughts
when he’s feeling blind and hopeless
or just distracted and distraught.
And when he’s feeling that other feeling,
the kind that hurts as deep as love,
that’s when he calls one of his good-time buddies
to find another drug.
It’s time for mean and various fun
now that it’s all over and done.
He’d never have lost her had she won.
He’d not have so tailspun.
He’d never have lost her had she won.
He’d not have so tailspun.
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13. |
The Rancher's Stash
01:03
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When asked
the rancher said there’s danger
in the heather thistle yonder
but you’re the ranger
and you can’t stand the rancher’s answer.
Your left hand and your right want to discover
despite the thorns that grab you
as you wander.
Despite the words that warn you
from the crass cattle-seller.
And what is he hiding in the creepers?
as he talks himself deeper and deeper
into trouble, the purposeful misleader,
this hateful hoarder and harmful secret-keeper.
And why is there a beast chained up here?
It seems to me that something is corrupt here.
This beast is not a buffalo nor steer,
but unicorn.
Snow-white bridle with a wish-granting horn.
and immediately your fantasy will appear
after you shed a selfish tear,
after another shot of bourbon and a beer.
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14. |
The Basement Sun
01:26
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One rung up the ladder
of a sagging rope,
and I’m paying a gambler
to take my place,
watching the walls run bright
with phosphorescent paint
with a tall one in the basement
in the sunset state.
On the big screen
we’re following the pigskin game
where every pass is out of range.
In pursuit of the ends of our rainy days again.
Wasn’t it a piece of cake?
Wasn’t it a peaceful lake
where we sunk down into our separate ways?
I know that you still believe,
and I know that you won’t deceive me,
still the renegade.
Orange sparks, jokes
flew from the car with speed.
Lacks and hopes drag along, frayed--
me knowing that you still believed
I’d never leave, well that’s
one of the jokes we made.
And I won’t drive alone
and I won’t fly away home.
Well, that’s another one.
Now I’m dragging chrome
and I’m worrying a bone
in the basement sun.
Wasn’t it a piece of cake?
Wasn’t it a peaceful lake
where we sunk down into our separate ways?
But I know that you still believe,
and I know that you won’t deceive
me.
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15. |
The Boys
00:54
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After a proper Christian breakfast, somewhat lost in time,
you attempt to scale the fence that one ought not to climb.
And you run toward the future knowing only how things seem
but refreshed to get the chance to dream.
Mistakenly the boys try to follow you
into the depth of your solitude.
Making noise and raising hell,
sending the bucket down the well
filled with reviews.
They’ll roam the countryside yelling “Where are you?”
And return without a hope at all.
In town, they will beg, steal and borrow,
end up in handcuffs down at city hall.
Maybe no one will ever find you.
They don’t know how to trace your trail.
And you don’t even see them walking behind you,
as they endlessly succeed and fail.
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16. |
My Corolla
01:08
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Right on Main Street
Left of Birmingham
Right on 285
Right on Charles
Left on Woodland
Left on Culver
Right on Bellvue
Right of Forest
that’s the whole way back.
You don’t need a phone,
you’ve the Mapquest sheets,
Fig Newtons in a knapsack.
You said “Can’t you try to meet me half way?”
and that’s how far I’m goin’.
Now, I don’t know where you live, but I know where you stay.
Am I wrong for knowin’?
Well, I’m goin’ for a drive,
winter of 2005.
And it will be
2016 when I arrive.
I know so much,
I know so much.
What a trip.
Don’t I know it.
I know so much,
I know so much.
What a trip.
I know, I know it’s too much.
So much for my Corolla
and my baby teeth.
I’m blowin’ into town
like an old leaf.
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17. |
Committed Man
01:24
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feeling like
i was made just stupid enough
to know how stupid i am,
and if i try to see it i can
and if i try to see it i can
well I’m lightening up
and now I’m lighter than air
and when i flail around i get a little scared
now I’m hunkering down and I’m riding through town,
painting it up with my dumb old stare
I’m prepared to be arrested for messing it up
but no one around seems to care
and I’m convinced
i was made just stupid enough
to know how stupid i am,
and if i try to see it i can
and if i try to see it i can
i can because I’m not a committed man
i can because I’m not a committed man
and i think
i was made just stupid enough
to know how stupid i am,
I don’t belong to any land
I’m not a committed man
i don’t sing in any band...
I’m not a committed man
I’m not a serious fan...
or a committed man
I wear no wedding band...
I’m not a committed man
I don’t believe in any brand
I’m not a committed man
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18. |
Two String
01:11
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You can say everything you are
on a two string guitar.
You can say everything you are
on a two string guitar.
Show the world your idea of taste
on a two string bass.
You go places no one ever went
around the festival tent.
You go where no one has ever went
walking round the festival tent.
If some extra things get tossed,
then some extra things get tossed.
You got a sack of tomatoes,
you got tomato sauce.
And I’ll tell you how four strings became three,
with no apology.
I’ll tell you how four strings became three,
they never gave an apology.
Then three strings just became two.
What to do.
And if the second comes undone,
then I guess you got the other one.
You can say everything you are
on a two string guitar.
You can say everything you are
on a two string guitar.
Show the world your idea of taste
on a two string bass.
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19. |
Your Boyish Man
00:45
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Squealing breaks in the morning--
the rooster’s crow.
Where any of us are going,
we’d like to know.
There’s a chance I might get run over by you.
There’s a chance I might win before you do.
Then I’ll find out what I am,
without caring who.
Singing:
I am your boyish man
I am your boyish man
Not all man, but all right.
Buddy, can I get a light?
I am your boyish man
I am your boyish man
Not all man, but all right.
Buddy, can I get a light?
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20. |
Take Me In
00:57
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I seem to find my home out here in nowhere
after seeing things fall apart.
But I hear you would be an Au Pair
to the dejected heart.
So take me in
Give me a skin to live in.
Give me fresh paper and pen,
I’ll write an ode to you, my friend.
Kindly raise me from the dead,
keep me warm and clothed and fed.
Send all your best to fill my head,
forget all lies that were ever said.
This I only ask,
Give me one hearty task
so I’ll forget all the work that I’ve done
in vain, in jest, and in my only past.
Please let me love until the days pass on and on.
Please let me love until the days pass on and on.
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Julian Cartwright New Jersey
Julian Cartwright is a songwriter, instrumentalist, composer and arranger based in the Philadelphia area. Instagram @julian.cartwright.songs
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