1. |
Last Sunday on the Left
06:39
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Last Sunday on the Left
You’re drawn close behind
your blue-moon shadowed eyes.
Off to the bar just across town;
got a beer in one hand, my best friend in the other.
The laughter across the street
walking out of the night;
the sidewalks are tripping freeways:
the Ohio Valley’s thick answer.
The tequila straight up
as the chase it came down to
all those years ago.
Finally caught up with each other,
we were moving in opposite directions
to sing love waiting there.
The sun is out, the sky blue,
a Sunday brunch, the rest of our lives;
shorter than we realize.
So now I’m on my way;
a second chance between us:
off to the bar just across town;
got a beer in one hand, my best friend in the other.
But I don’t know yet; you’re just across the table.
I don’t know yet; you’re just across the table.
And I don’t know what to expect.
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2. |
Barefeet
04:48
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Barefeet
A kind of tripping or not,
I’m wearing my hat Uptown:
it talks with me here.
It couldn’t have been more than a few
hours by the time,
I began wearing the weather;
keeping an eye on the dogs,
someone’s beer from spilling,
traffic and that kind of thing.
Even this morning ran across the street
in its barefeet.
Was it late for work again
or was it just those small
purple landscapes I’ve painted
on the porch in the water?
As if a burger and a bottle of beer were the catch:
just the kids next door splashing summer between their toes.
Or me every night,
Asking if we’re on our way home
or just out of smokes for the night?
Give or take an afternoon
or a Friday lunch rush,
it’s not about having a few too many beers.
Or falling asleep on the couch
before I could go in
jump into the shower.
Keeping an eye on the dogs,
someone’s beer from spilling,
traffic and that kind of thing.
Even this morning ran across the street
in its barefeet.
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3. |
More Wine
04:57
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More Wine
Home again.
Where there’s more talk of leaving,
of staying and leaving, of
leaving and staying,
of staying and leaving,
staying and leaving.
Of words that have chosen us to live in them
long before we began to begin to remember them.
Like shaving every once in a while,
curiosity envelopes
and, of course, from there
we’re a couple a days away.
driving a couple of days away.
Driving a couple a days.
I’m sleeping through Newark,
longing for fear in numbers,
nineteen-ninety four,
peanut shells on the floor.
The wine and cigarettes,
the places where I’ve left my shoes before.
Like shaving every once in a while,
curiosity envelopes.
And, of course, from there
We’re a couple a days away.
Driving a couple a days.
I’m sleeping through Newark,
longing for fear in numbers,
nineteen-ninety four,
peanut shells on the floor.
I’m driving a couple of days away, driving a couple a days away.
I’m walking into your living room, walking into your living room.
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4. |
Blue Nun (Interlude)
02:55
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5. |
Sweet Pickles
03:40
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