universe narrows

LYRICS

yeah I can't help it, I'm morose
that's just how it goes, you know

there's too many books on how to help yourself
and guru plans for happiness and wealth
change your diet and deconstruct your mind

well, I'm just waiting for the other shoe
‘cause there's one for me and one for you
and a couple more just waiting to come down

don't get me wrong, I don't want to sabotage
the good times when they're here
it's just that even when I'm glad there's always sadness near

they say my attitude that it's sad
should spend more time on being glad
but they don't know me, they don't understand

now I'm gettin' cold and I'm not dreaming anymore
I gotta make a move or I'll be sleeping on the floor
so I try to lure you down into the other room
then I lay back down, knowing morning's coming way too soon

Ruby and Hank are just too big to share a bed with
they got a way of taking over like a communist regime
they work together to come up with a plan
for taking up as much space as they can

but even if I ‘m tired and swear they won't be up again
I know that it's a lie, I know that it's an empty threat
‘cause in a complicated world, complications are all around
but the way they love is true and complications can't confound
so as we all destroy ourselves and scheme to meet our ends
they'll still love us and be glad to be our friends

YOUNG GERANIUMS

they were thinking I might have been sunk, but it's not true
even if they think that I'm a clown
‘cause I know something is to be gained in having pipe dreams
even if they seem ridiculous
any idea has got no hope unless you give it some room to see the light of day
they're like young geraniums, they need lots of love and care and special vitamins

when I was walking in the woods, I saw some growing
on the shady side of a tree, in many flavors and shapes
and it was hard to tell what they would be when they were big

I showered them with smiles and waited for some sign
but in the time that I was there, they withered on the vine

I said this, you said that,
I can't remember much, a hundred party hats
a sea of red balloons and ratchet sardine cans
projectile paper horns and plastic clapping hands.

It got harder to control myself, I think I said some silly things
I've got a tendency to pontificate and it grows with every drink

and then I looked around, all kinds of people having fun
why is it that this always makes, makes me wanna run?
but that's not really true, it's really more than that
everyone here wearing glasses is wearing Buddy Holly glasses
and that makes me mad

everyone here looks the same, why can't they be as original as me?
this band sucks, every song sounds the same

my bad attitude is growing
outside it's really snowing
I really should be going
I'm sorry about last night

GREEN, RED, & WHITE

1917, near the western border
fighting on the Eastern Front
three years gone with no projection
of any end in sight

eventually the word came that war was over
someone said we were headed home
and feet so used to going one direction
got turned around, then BOOM!

the Red Army's guns at us were pointed
a simple choice: join us or die
it was the first Soviet election
and these workers knew their wrongs from rights

Green, red, and white, does everybody want to fight?
when people turn against themselves, some say
at night all cats are gray

new disorder came to add to old disorder
and paranoia to old distrust
and many ugly things from this collection
found a way to rise

in this free-for-all it seemed good men could falter
and bad men gain the upper hand
and so it was almost without detection
that one began to purge the land

LITTLE MACHINE

I've got this little machine
it works just like a dream
when I get a song idea
I just record it here
it's got nifty buttons
and little sliding things
and a metronome so almost nothin'
in the tune can get really messed up

technology, it sure is fun
composing used to take me months
now I flip the switch to ON
and out comes a pretty song

sitting there for hours
while darkness falls around the room
this is how it used to be
but I'll never have to do it again

I've got this little machine
it works just like a dream
even if I've got no ideas
it'll come up with them for me

technology, it sure is fun
composing used to take me months
now I flip the switch to ON
and out comes a pretty song

but it ain't so easy as that
a friend said that my song shat
there was no hook or sweet melody
and he also said I couldn't sing

MONKEY IN YOUR HAT

you can have a bee in your bonnet if you want it
you can even have a lion in your heart
but you can't have a monkey in your hat
and that, my friend, is that

you can have a big yard if you want it
and paint your house almost any color that you like
but if you've got grass, you're gonna have to cut it
and that, my friend, is that.
.
just remember, when you want to be free
there are a lot of nosey eyes around to see

you can have bats in your belfry
and find yourself in a big white house
but you can't have a monkey in your hat
and that, my friend, is that

THURSDAYS
life is filled with anti-climaxes
it's clockwork, it's just like paying taxes
when Friday comes and my friends all say T.G.I.F. ....YAY!
I'm several hours past my favorite day
for several reasons that would be hard to explain
‘cause Friday really is a real good day
it's just it's tied to too much expectation

that's why I love Thursdays
they're more fun than birthdays
so it's Thursday I've decided
when I'll smile and want to die

a sudden drop from the dignified or important in thought or expression
to the commonplace or trivial
in other words, when drawn out hopes
in a magician's motion, they go up in smoke
and in comes creeping that dark malaise
it happens every holiday except for one

it's all about expectation
and on its pendulum swing
to find the perfect point

life is filled with anti-climaxes
‘cause we're always ignoring what the facts is
but I know better when my friends all say: T. G. I. F...... YAY"

that's why I love Thursdays
they're more fun than birthdays
and usually more fun than Christmas too
but Thanksgiving's all right ‘cause, as we know,
it always comes on Thursday

 WORMS

I got a sharp pain deep inside my gut
I read it's all because of worms
they eat your insides, they all take turns
attack your spleen just like home-fried beans

I went on line last night and found some other people
who knew just what I talked about
who knew how I was feeling

I got a sharp pain deep inside my gut
I read it's all because of worms
they eat their brothers and from them they learn
absorb their thoughts and all their hopes and dreams

and they've got no regard for what they might be stealing
but when they reach my mind
they'll know just how I'm feeling

looking up at all those stained glass windows
cobalt blue and mauve and carmine too
Philomena's there in many colors
glowing lily in her graceful hand
not far of in green and white is Jude
amber flame above his bowing head

smoke it rises up into the room
while candles burn it seems a thousand strong
flickering projects into the night
outside where it is dark, the moon is gone

did the makers of theses visions
see from where I sit the power of the light?

looking up at all those stained glass windows
cobalt blue and mauve and carmine too
Philomena's there in many colors
glowing lily in her graceful hand

did the makers of theses visions
see from where I sit the power of the light?
A million rays through smoky prisms
have come to fill your eyes and mystify your mind

STICKBALL
Let’s go down to the pinky ball game.
Let’s get out in the street
Bring us some popcorn and bubblegum
Skate scooters in the summer heat.
Makin’ sides from the kids hangin round
Throw to see who’s first ups And getting
ready with the sun in your eyes
It could be coming from the left or right
Stickball, stickball it’s not hard
But it’s major league.
It don’t take much, just need
A handle and an old Spaldeen
Car coming from the end of the block
Let’s get out of the street
Kitty Kelly yellin’ somethin’ about
Heads up kid or you might get beat
Up in the air an impossible fly,
Headed for the next neighborhood.
And when it’s
over Kitty Kelly she says
Pack it in ‘cause
it’s goin’ home
Stickball, stickball it’s not hard
But it’s major league.
It don’t take much, just need
A handle and an old Spaldeen
Let’s go down to the pinky ball game.
Let’s get out in the street
Bring us some popcorn and bubblegum
Skate scooters in the summer heat
Stickball, stickball it’s not hard
But it’s major league.
It don’t take much, just need
A handle and an old Spaldeen
Out there playin you saw some friends
and you had some fun.
Stickball, stickball
They still play it in the Bronx

SPINACH GREEN EYES
Sabrina, Sabrina, the girl with the spinach-green eyes.
Not like jade, not like emerald, not even like broccoli.
She moved out to the country,
Where the sun rises early each day. She came down to our schoolhouse,
Beginning of my seventh grade. When my sad eyes set upon her,
Sittin’ there all by herself,
She captured my whole attention
Like a pile-up on 24 south.
Sabrina, Sabrina, the girl with the funny French braid,
Whiny voice, gimpy knee, and those spinach-green eyes watchin’ me.
Oh my poor heart, my desperate dreams, what can I do, what can I do?
Sabrina she may not be fetchin’,
She may not seem stunning to you, but,
Watch…. out,,,,. when
She winks at you.
Sabrina, Sabrina the girl with the funny French braid,.
Whiny voice, gimpy knee, and those spinach-green eyes watchin’ me, watchin me, watchin me

MORE TO SEE
I remember walking in the woods, I remember walking in the trees
Learning to swim in the shallow end and running from a swarm of bees.
Hundreds of hours in a day and a hundred more hours in a night.
By the time the rockets went on Fourth of July, it could have been another whole other life.
Ordinary places had a feel like anything could happen, you were right
‘Cause when the sandman’s hiding in the old oak tree
There’s a whole lot more to see, there’s a whole lot more to see.
And now you’re working all the time just to make it through
And now you’re counting down the time just to make it through.
I remember rolling down a hill, green, blue, and dizzy in the light of the morning sun
A new day had begun and no one knew how long it would last.
Inside the speaker was a band, the band was playing just for you
Playing little guitars and playing little drums in the middle of your room.
And now you’re working all the time just to make it through
And now you’re counting down the time just to make it through.
Ordinary places had a feel like anything could happen, you were right
‘Cause when the sandman’s hiding in the old oak tree there a whole lot more to see.
‘Cause when the sandman’s hiding in the old oak tree there a whole lot more to see.

click on link below to watch MORE TO SEE video

http://myspacetv.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=12853778

JUST BANG THE DRUMS
You're there at the end of the day and all night it's there you will stay
n another world connected by a pair of headphones honey.
Feeling the wandering beat, you open up like a clam in the sea.
And then it all starts looking up and even real dark days turn sunny.
So when everything goes wrong and you feel like hiding out again
Just bang the drums…..Just bang the drums.
Your heart, racing now to a twist, makes it skip all around like a kiss.
And even in your seat your feet keep moving,
So when everything turns bad and you're feeling like hiding out again
Just bang the drums..Just bang the drums
Moving to the wandering beat, that's coming out of the record machine
Everything's all right and even that real world seems funny,
So when the rain starts coming down and you feel like hiding out again
Just bang the drums, Just bang the drums, Just bang the drums, Just bang the drums.

LOST AND FOUND
Is this how things go when
You don’t know what to do
Out in the darkness in the night
Sittin’ on the hood of a car
By a lake made of mud
Wonderin’ how you got so far
Is this how things go when the road never seems to end
And everyday you pull away for someplace new
What makes you keep travellin’ on and on
onto another bend
Leavin’ everything you knew behind,
Regrets start fading in the hard sun.
Somehow they can’t survive the passing of the miles
And when you reach the end you’ll start it all again
‘Cause this is how you live,
this is how you live,
this is how you live your life.

BEANS
Head out to the wilderness, world of natural wonders
Leave behind our microwaves and bring our cans of campfire beans.
We got the sun, we got the leaves and beams of sunshine streaming
Of all the pretty things you’ll see, there’s nothing there like campfire beans,
There’s nothing there like campfire beans.
‘Cause it’s an ordinary world except for me and my beans.
There’s a twisting path, that leads to places green,
So silent only bugs can hear the swimming of the fish in streams.
See them slowly turning, Try to catch them with our bait,
But they all live ‘cause they swam away to go and get some…...
Once when we were dreaming, we saw as far as we could see,
‘Cause we were standing on a hill and it was made of campfire beans.
‘Cause it’s an ordinary world except for me and my beans.
‘Cause it’s an ordinary world except for me and my beans.

LOOKING THROUGH A PANE
Funny but it’s hard to laugh at the stars.
Unhinged and desperate in a strange town
Where you can never seem to find your way around
Stuck inside a dream that’ll never let you go
‘Cause it keeps on pulling you back in And when you think you’re awake you’re just imaginin’ Overtired and overworked and not enough to do
Sleepless, lonely, and lost
Silvery beams of light enter the room
Lookin through a pane.
You see a car, a sign, a train
And a hole carved out where a hill was
And a bird that’s flying like a bird does,
Under the spell a scene of an unearthly machine
Ticking away on the outside
Makes it look like day in the dead of night
Funny but it’s hard to laugh at the stars.
Unhinged and desperate in a strange town
Where you can never seem to find your way around…..

ANOTHER NONEXISTENT SONG
Early in the morning watching the sunrise
In the corner of the windshield driving
The backroads wind, the whimper of the rain
Comes down, a flash across the road Into the bushes by the side Where the hare runs wild
Under the cold light of the pale
Moon disappearing with the light of day. Speculations about the meaning or the purpose of a life
While sitting in the silence
The wipers wipe to the rhythm of another nonexistent song
That was never here so can’t be gone
There’s a fire goin’ in the ashtray by where the radio was
And now is sittin’ in the rain.
Lost in a thought came floating with the wind on through the glass
A holographic byway that slips inside and swims around your brain
Arriving just in time to burn in a memory that no one heard
Where a hare runs wild under the cold light of the pale
Moon disappearing with the light of day
Now it starts to rain again, it’s falling very hard
Now it starts to rain again, and I won’t get very far, and I won’t get very far,
And I won’t get very far, and I won’t get very far…
Early in the morning watching the sunrise
In the corner of the windshield driving
The backroads wind, the whimper of the rain
Comes down, a flash across the road
Into the bushes by the side
Where the hare runs wild
Under the cold light of the pale
Moon disappearing with the light of day.

THE HOLLOW
Walkin down that road.
Past those famous souls
Makes me know that we are old
Just how fast life goes.
Saw where we will rest
Beneath those fallen leaves.
Makes me think we might be blue
Down there just us two.
How long ago was it
That we took that fateful trip?
Now it’s time to go
The leaves are buried in the snow
Makes me feel like we’ll be fine
Smiling all the time.

WHAT MAKES A WEED?
What makes a weed not be a flower?
Must be its power to destroy all the pretty flowers.
That’s why we use all sorts of poisons
To kill those weeds.
Hurtin’ our, hurtin’ our pretty flowers.
What makes a flower
Demand our attention?
No man’s invention
Can compare with a pretty flower.
But who decides which things survive
To live under the sun?
If there were only pretty flowers, candy canes, and fun….
Where would we be and where would we go to?
If there were no dark side, I bet we’d lose all our motivation.
What makes a weed not be a flower?
Must be its power to destroy all the pretty flowers
But who decides which things survive
To live under the sun? If there were only pretty flowers, candy canes, and fun…
What would that mean and what would we come to, if there were no dark side,
There’d be nothing there to make the light side, light.