FRANK SINATRA
We know of an ancient radiation
That haunts dismembered constellations,
A faintly glimmering radio station.
While Frank Sinatra sings Stormy Weather,
The flies and spiders get along together,
Cobwebs fall on an old skipping record.
Beyond the suns that guard this roof,
Beyond your flowers of flaming truths,
Beyond your latest ad campaigns,
An old man sits collecting stamps
In a room all filled with Chinese lamps.
He saves what others throw away.
He says that he'll be rich some day.
We know of an ancient radiation
That haunts dismembered constellations,
A faintly glimmering radio station.
We know of an ancient radiation
That haunts dismembered constellations,
A faintly glimmering radio station.
While Frank Sinatra sings Stormy Weather,
The flies and spiders get along together,
Cobwebs fall on an old skipping record.
THE DISTANCE
Reluctantly crouched at the starting line,
Engines pumping and thumping in time.
The green light flashes, the flags go up.
Churning and burning, they yearn for the cup.
They deftly maneuver and muscle for rank,
Fuel burning fast on an empty tank.
Reckless and wild, they pour through the turns.
Their prowess is potent and secretly stearn.
As they speed through the finish, the flags go down.
The fans get up and they get out of town.
The arena is empty except for one man,
Still driving and striving as fast as he can.
The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup.
But he's driving and striving and hugging the turns.
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.
He's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
She's all alone
In her time of need.
Because he's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting and riding on his horse,
He's going the distance.
No trophy, no flowers, no flashbulbs, no wine,
He's haunted by something he cannot define.
Bowel-shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse,
Assail him, impale him with monster-truck force.
In his mind, he's still driving,still making the grade.
She's hoping in time that her memories will fade.
Cause he's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup.
But he's striving and driving and hugging the turns.
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.
Cause he's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
She's all alone
In her time of need.
Because he's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
He's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
He's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
He's going the distance.
FRIEND IS A FOUR LETTER WORD
To me, coming from you,
Friend is a four letter word.
End is the only part of the word
That I heard.
Call me morbid or absurd.
But to me, coming from you,
Friend is a four letter word.
To me, coming from you,
Friend is a four letter word.
End is the only part of the word
That I heard.
Call me morbid or absurd.
But to me, coming from you,
Friend is a four letter word.
When I go fishing for the words
I am wishing you would say to me,
I'm really only praying
That the words you'll soon be saying
Might betray the way you feel about me.
But to me, coming from you,
Friend is a four letter word.
OPEN BOOK
She's writing, she's writing,
She's writing a novel.
She's writing, she's weaving,
Conceiving a plot.
It quickens, it thickens.
You can't put it down now.
It takes you, it shakes you,
It makes you lose your thought.
But you're caught in your own glory.
You are believing your own stories.
Writing your own headlines.
Ignoring your own deadlines.
But now you've gotta write them all again.
You think she's an open book,
But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?
You think she's an open book,
But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?
Do you? Do you?
You want her, confront her.
Just open your window.
Unbolt it, unlock it,
Unfasten your latch.
You want it, confront it.
Just open your window.
All you really have to do is ask.
But you're caught in your own glory.
You are believing your own stories.
Timing your contractions.
Inventing small contraptions
That roll across your polished hardwood floors.
You think she's an open book,
But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?
You think she's an open book,
But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?
Do you? Do you?
You think she's an open book,
But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?
Do you? Do you? Do you?
DARIA
When you tried to kiss me
I only bit your tongue.
When you tried to get me together
I only came undone.
When you tried to tell me
The one for me was you,
I was in your mattress back in 1982.
Daria, I won't be soothed.
Daria, I won't be soothed over like,
Smoothed over like milk,
Silk, a bedspread, or a quilt,
Icing on a cake,
Or a serene translucent lake.
Daria, Daria, Daria,
I won't be soothed.
I won't be soothed.
When you tried to tell me
Of all the love you had,
I was cleaning oil from beaches
Seeing only what was bad.
When you tried to feed me
I only shut my mouth.
Food got on your apron
And you told me to get out.
Daria, I won't be soothed.
Daria, I won't be soothed over like,
Smoothed over like milk,
Silk, a bedspread, or a quilt,
Icing on a cake,
Or a serene translucent lake.
Daria, Daria, Daria,
Daria, Daria, Daria,
Daria, I won't be soothed.
I won't be soothed.
STICKSHIFTS AND SAFETYBELTS
Stickshifts and safetybelts,
Bucket seats have all got to go.
When we're driving in the car,
It makes my baby seem so far.
I need you here with me,
Not way over in a bucket seat.
I need you to be here with me,
Not way over in a bucket seat.
But when we're driving in my Malibu,
It's easy to get right next to you.
I say, "Baby, scoot over, please."
And then she's right there next to me.
I need you here with me,
Not way over in a bucket seat.
I need you to be here with me,
Not way over in a bucket seat.
Well a lot of good cars are Japanese.
But when we're driving far,
I need my baby,
I need my baby next to me.
Well, stickshifts and safetybelts,
Bucket seats have all got to go.
When we're driving in the car,
It makes my baby seem so far.
I need you here with me,
Not way over in a bucket seat.
I need you to be here with me,
Not way over in a bucket seat.
PERHAPS, PERHAPS, PERHAPS
You won't admit you love me.
And so how am I ever to know?
You only tell me
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
A million times I ask you,
And then I ask you over again.
You only answer
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
If you can't make your mind up,
We'll never get started.
And I don't wanna wind up
Being parted, broken-hearted.
So if you really love me,
Say yes.
But if you don't, dear, confess.
And please don't tell me
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
If you can't make your mind up,
We'll never get started.
And I don't wanna wind up
Being parted, broken-hearted.
So if you really love me,
Say yes.
But if you don't, dear, confess.
And please don't tell me
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps,
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps,
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
NUGGET
Heads of State who ride and wrangle,
Who look at your face from more than one angle,
Can cut you from their bloated budgets
Like sharpened knives through Chicken McNuggets.
Now Heads of State who ride and wrangle,
Who look at your face from more than one angle,
Can cut you from their bloated budgets
Like sharpened knives through Chicken McNuggets.
Shut the f--- up.
Shut the f--- up.
Learn to buck up.
Shut the f--- up.
Learn to buck up.
Now nimble fingers that dance on numbers
Will eat your children and steal your thunder,
While heavy torsos that heave and hurl
Who crunch like nuts in the mouths of squirrels.
Now nimble fingers that dance on numbers
Will eat your children and steal your thunder,
While heavy torsos that heave and hurl
Who crunch like nuts in the mouths of squirrels.
Shut the f--- up.
Shut the f--- up.
Learn to buck up.
Shut the f--- up.
Learn to buck up.
Now simple feet that flicker like fire
And burn like candles in smoky spires
Do more to turn my joy to sadness
Than somber thoughts of burning planets.
Now clever feet that flicker like fire
And burn like candles in smoky spires
Do more to turn my joy to sadness
Than somber thoughts of burning planets.
ITALIAN LEATHER SOFA
She doesn't care
Whether or not he's an island.
She doesn't care,
Just as long as his ship's coming in.
She doesn't care
Whether or not he's an island.
They laugh, they make money.
He's got a gold watch.
She's got a silk dress
And healthy breasts
That bounce on his Italian leather sofa.
She doesn't care
Whether or not he's a good man.
She doesn't care,
Just as long as she still has her friends.
She doesn't care
Whether or not he's an island.
They laugh, they make money.
He's got a gold watch.
She's got a silk dress
And healthy breasts
That bounce on his Italian leather sofa.
She's got a serrated edge
That she moves back and forth.
It's such a simple machine.
She doesn't have to use force.
When she gets what she wants
She puts the rest on a tray
In a zip-loc bag.
She's got a serrated edge
That she moves back and forth.
It's such a simple machine.
She doesn't have to use force.
When she get what she wants
She puts the rest on a tray
In a zip-loc bag in the freezer.
She doesn't care
Whether or not he's an island.
She doesn't care,
Just as long as his ship's coming in.
She doesn't care
Whether or not he's an island.
They laugh, they make money.
He's got a gold watch.
She's got a silk dress
And healthy breasts
That bounce on his Italian leather sofa.
