Musician Needed!

Just cut these lyrics from my first album. The friend I’m recording with prefers making music from sound (not from lyrics or structure), so these shan’t go on the album. Still, when I shared them lyrics with a friend, she said, “There are some absolutely stunning moments,” so I thought I’d put them out in the open. If you’re musically inclined and curious, would love to hear what you might do with them sonically. (And if you have suggestions of how you’d change elements, please let me know!)

Song #1: You’ll Never Be Home Again

Sittin’ out here 
Drinkin’ a beer,
Sky’s become clear,
My fear nearing,
Endearing
That you’ll never be home again.
Rounding that bend
Ended a friend,
Sending us rended and tender, amended
By a problem we’ll never mend.
But I still miss you
Not to kiss you
Simply to list the missed Sisyphus trysts you
Caressed with your wrists.
Undressing the pissed misty mornings of horny,
The warnings I foreswore.
You get what you want.
And never a thought for what ought to be
Safe or unwavering labor.
Controlling your world.
Squeezing that girl
Into a picture
Perfect
hearseless
first verse
that cursed her.
This sunset on hills
Gives me the chills
Missin’ your thrills and your pills
That still make me ill.
But I still miss you.
In distance I list you
As one of the greatest
sadists
I hated.
But I still miss you.
And pissy, I kissed you
I was a weak and meek
seeker that needed
some closure you own.
So you made me moan
Not with delight but a fright of the bright lights
That’s all you’ve done.
Now that you’ve won.
You ruined the son of my father who bothered
To let his dad die.
I must ask why?
Why do you end those around you, add frowns to…
You unholy beast.
I miss you the least
that I could miss anyone I once loved and still do.
I can’t close doors.
I keep wanting more.

Song #2: Untitled Song for College Grads (still being written, 2 verses to go.)

Graduatin’ mainstreet, aimin’ at fame street.

Someone clue me into those celebrities I can’t meet.

I’m an artist, just got out of school.

Lookin’ for a way to make a splash in the pool.

 

Hey there kiddo, can I borrow your soul?

Cause I can get you into the city of gold.

You said you’re a painter? Musician? A writer?

Work with me a few years, your life’ll be brighter.

 

So I got a workin’, sixteen hours a day

For plenty of perks and boatloats of pay.

Bain, BCG, don’t remember the name.

Coulda been ‘banking.’ Whatever, it’s lame.

 

Don’t sell your soul to the devil, friends—

The trouble and the toil ain’t worth the ends

Do what you love and do it for pay,

You’ll be a better person at the end of the day.

 

Been livin’ in the city and don’t love the rent.

Might as well buy. That’s money well spent.

Started seein’ someone, they just moved in.

Now we’re startin’ talkin’ ‘bout poppin’ out kin.

 

I’ll match your retirement and give parental leave.

Send you trav’ling to hotels. There’s nothing up my sleeve.

Your friends all sip champagne, proudly showing comp’ny pride

Come day-drink on my yacht and I’ll take you for a ride.

 

Don’t sell your soul to the devil, friends—

The trouble and the toil ain’t worth the ends

Do what you love and do it for pay,

You’ll be a better person at the end of the day.

If I wanted a Boat

The boat I would get, if I wanted a boat, would be everything that I am not.

Carefree and easy and flexing completely, withstand wind and rain and hot,

Skating along atop cresting blue waves, easing through shifting tides…

 

The boat I would get, if I wanted a boat, would not take me for a ride,

but summon me near, caring not if I come, chuckling and holding the ropes.

The boat I would get, if I wanted a boat, would dash dreams in favor of hopes.

“You’ll never go far with that kind of boat”

But I’m already too far, too fast.

The boat I would get, if I wanted a boat, would be one that my soul cries would last.

 

Days turn to weeks turn to months turn to years,

Then one day my boat turns on me

And I’d be its ears.

And it be my eyes.

Together, we’d share a mouth.

 

We’d turn, heading down, past the capes with a frown

To the warmest of waters due south,

Under the bridges of eyes and sand ridges, I’d sweat hard, shoveling coal

And my boat would tell me, “You’re working too hard. Where are we trying to go?”

I’d poke my head up, consumed in the clouds, and not help but utter an, “oh.”

Sometimes I write in pictures.

You!
Yes, you!
Look at this guy:
A short, squat gnome
With a big paunched belly
And an erect penis
And neck
This text is here purely for formatting reasons
Born a dewdrop
That jiggled on a leaf,
Slurped up by a ladybug
That hums above the field.
Clouds billow, foretold shocks:
“Don’t hum begrudging agreement.
It’s not what you’ll want tomorrow-
Just what they demand today.”
This text is here purely for formatting reasons
He writes from a place southwest of my sternum
Aflame from rotting friends.
He wants to show you.
Take a look?
Or run.
“Please don’t run.”