1. |
So Long to the City
02:17
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Horizon so near,
it was on my windshield.
Driving through the country on suspicion.
Wearing wool, in spring for the winter,
no intermission.
When our lanes merged, you yielded, later passed.
So long to the city.
Raising your visor
to review what had been long eclipsed.
Uncovering something,
something like this:
An unnamed urge with no shame.
I was mortified, you were the same.
Former pains surged.
You shielded, later asked.
We were not wrong. No pity, none.
Greetings to the sun,
and so long to the city.
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2. |
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On holiday, I was in a sunny yard crying.
When would they tell us about dignity, the human dream?
I so wondered, I almost fell asleep.
But no calming thoughts came from under the deep.
A mockingbird flew down to solve it,
while the taller birds ripped away the ears.
After I woke up, I almost saw all of it,
and observed the interplay was weird,
crying, “Cheer up!” but neither bird could hear.
It was a long walk from the library,
a longer one back there.
Birds all the way and more.
Mealy me and my big hope.
I’ll give it the heave-ho.
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3. |
Walks
03:52
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During the daytime I’d go on quiet walks,
and she’d remember me too.
To walk myself back to my senses,
and find myself back here with you.
But we were both walking in circles,
and said we would meet half way.
I never did know where to find you,
I was looking in the wrong direction.
I was walking in a circle behind you,
a circle in the wrong direction!
To lead the way, you’ve got to have patience,
patience to follow behind.
But to follow your own sensations
is to patiently await the sensation
of awaiting of the passing of time.
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4. |
She Loves the War
03:28
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What she asks is a trifle, nothing more.
Someone to to do her bidding like soldier,
or she loves the war.
I’m kidding. She loves the bidding war.
It’s New Year’s Eve
I’m looking at a picture of Leonard Cohen
looking at a picture of a woman with her head turned
in the window of a store,
and then I’m in the store,
and she loves the bidding war.
And I follow that car, and I follow that man,
unremitting and alone again.
And who’s watching me? well they are,
and they were just some teenagers,
bored and on the phone again.
And as I watched them all grow,
I was getting valuable,
Oh, but they never said when.
So will this stranger be a stranger,
or will this stranger love me till the end?
No
Or
Or she loves the question,
but friend I know the question
hasn’t got the heart of a cold war.
And she loves . . .
Or I love the question,
and just haven’t got the heart for
the end.
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5. |
Back2 New Jersey
04:09
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Tonight I go back.
Back to New Jersey.
I bring an inch of water to my face.
The wise guest would have brought a basket,
choosing what is rarer.
I sipped.
I tend to think a hunch will get me all the way.
I spit the water out,
headed for the tracks.
It turned out I was ill suited to the train,
but I made it.
Actually it carried me,
none safer.
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6. |
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Thinking something looked like what it’s not,
left with two dissonant wind chimes, bird on top.
Left with all kinds of emblems,
I looked out on a pier.
Maybe for the last time,
and I still want to be here.
A certain part of foolishness is ultimately right,
but it’s hidden inside itself, weirdly.
All my emblems were reflective of the luxury of time,
and I was jealous of that in my wide hat,
but ultimately, inside it, weary.
And accustomed to an attitude absolutely basic,
like a guy who has just lost something he’d won.
Even my confession is overdone.
I know that if I were strong,
I’d be running toward the lie and from the liar,
thinking “hopefully things are incrementally dire,
rather than finding me bored.”
But why do I use my imagination
to imagine disaster, or imagine my spirit poor?
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7. |
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Again I found it possible, possible to read.
Capturing nothing that was not a fleeting mist.
But when I turned around my heart skipped,
when I heard the voices of ancestors eating.
The greedy clank of teeth, forks going at a clip.
Endangering my peace by connecting me with this.
I was forced to hear the dribbling of gravy down their cheeks,
and I couldn’t concentrate.
I was not much insulted by regurgitative acts,
but that they’d agreed upon impatience, long after the axe.
As backward as I am, both myself and their spawn,
I made an effort to forgive them by dining till dawn,
but then I turned around and they were gone.
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8. |
More Alone
04:08
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When I was more alone,
I was as pure as anyone could be.
Then two things occurred simultaneously.
I was introduced to company,
right away began to crawl.
My friends got bigger.
I stayed small.
Closer to smaller worlds
I felt I could see it all.
Walking over trap doors
no one thought were trap doors,
a regular man could see.
Every intersection was a close call,
but most of all,
all accidents were close to me.
When I was pure, I was more alone,
and happier than after.
So how more trips,
or how many disasters
before I happen upon the real thing?
Not even I can say
cause in the first place,
it only took the one road
to lead me astray.
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9. |
Sways
03:50
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No matter the place, there’s always more to see,
All of your sways leaning toward me.
You are freeform, in line with my desires.
I spend days blinded by the sky.
In the course of the nights, you take me higher,
so that low knows high.
The breeze is swift and I am willing.
I kick off more than one shoe.
And now I think I’m never hurried.
Over half the time I’m thinking of you.
I was lazy, with latent feeling.
One toe in the bubbling stream.
Now I’m two feet out in a clearing,
soul high, head in a dream.
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10. |
Let Me Out, Let Me Be
04:08
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Just the way a cat will tear away from you
to explore the remaining parts of the bed,
you walked out without alarm, and
it’s one thing I feel fine saying.
I was left on my own to see what it’s like.
I didn’t mind staying.
Looked around on all sides and found no ending.
Memorized the place by crying and saying,
"Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out,
let me be."
I found a little window there,
a window that looked out on your being.
I could not breathe when I looked in,
and barely blinked.
I was enraptured, and finally fired up.
That means 'back in it'-- no cigarette, no Daiquiri.
Wrote a plan for where my mind could stay.
And this plan backfired at the end of every day.
I could not even sleep.
Yea, I found myself sighing and praying,
"Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out,
let me be."
Prune house,
a loon house.
It’s really no house for me.
I sprung into birth-- bingo.
Built a house with the worst window.
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11. |
Transportation Two
01:18
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12. |
Light of the Sun
05:25
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When in the night, when in the crowd,
and you can’t tell what dark has done,
Look around. Time allowed,
you might find your answer spun
when the moon is freaking out,
but it’s still the light of the sun.
When the moon is peeking down,
it’s still the light of the sun.
Well you’re my best, you’re by my side.
I’m at my best when you’re in sight.
When you’re at rest, you’re still my best.
Are you the source of this moonlight?
When the moon is freaking out,
it’s still the light of the sun.
And when the moon is peeking down,
it’s still the light of the sun.
How could I doubt my own sight?
You were always lighting nights.
Making sure we’re never scared.
All the lunatics beware!
And when the moon is freaking out
it’s still the light of the sun.
When the moon is peeking down,
it’s still the light of the sun.
When I feel you’re out of range,
every moonbeam causes pain.
My going mind twisting blinds,
and life is just not quite the same.
But when I keep you in my mind,
your rays make puppets of
everything I feel inside.
You shine above for my love.
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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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