Lyrics (Pg. 3) :
The Truth About Tuesday: I wrote these words walking to work at a pizzeria, in the rain, a couple years ago when I was far to old to be making pizza. That's how I felt about it anyway. Maybe I should have been happy just to have a job. Anyway, I was feeling pretty discouraged, and old. You know those kind of days.
It's Tuesday morning, and I'm so much less invincible than I always thought I was.
The rain is cool soft surrender. Guess I'll soak it up because
I know that giving up is just giving up on a past that never truly was,
and Tuesday's grey memories are blurred, and vaporous.
And if I cast a bleary eye toward the future, my view is obscured by panic and baseless pride.
I see the foggy summit of Wednesday, but not down the other side
to Thursday's great success, or Friday's emptiness when dreams and truths collide.
They said there'd be days like this. I'd always hoped they'd lied.
Looking up from every puddle is the lowest of the low.
How fitting that my reflection floats on top of the mud and filth below.
Today I'm bent to broken by the thought of things. And I wonder, does it show?
Another look, another puddle tells me no.
So here I stand, cold cash in hand, to buy another round.
She pores me dirty bourbon, eyes the window, says, "Man, it's coming down."
I tell her, "Honey, you don't know the half of it." Then politely turn around.
And in spite of endless waves of ugly music,
in spite of every lip and tongue that's moving,
and though the weather has filled this room with every clown in town,
I'll remember Tuesday without a sound.
If I'm Alright: This is a really personal song. So if you wanna know what it’s about, buy me a couple bourbons next time you see me, and maybe I’ll tell you. I can't promise anything, but the dryer the bourbon, the looser my lips.
Thought of you today. I remembered everything.
Chased those thoughts away. It's no good remembering.
Are your thoughts of me only black, never lively or bright?
And do you ever wonder if I'm doing alright?
Sat alone for hours, contemplating nothing new.
Finally took a shower. The smell of lavender shampoo
took me back to your door on a happier day,
and made me hope that, in your heart, you hope I'm okay.
I can't believe how fast the years have tumbled by.
Too late to learn my lesson now. It's too late to try
to make it up to you. I can't undo the worst I've done,
but I can't let regret define me.
Guess that's why I'm here. Thanks for picking up the phone.
Your voice so close to my ear somehow makes me more alone.
So I'll get to the point, the reason I called,
to ask you, "Do you ever hope I'm happy at all?"
And I'm not trying to find a way to set things right;
just some peace of mind before I say goodnight.
Has retrospect been my friend? Has it softened your gaze?
And now and then, do you wonder what I'm up to these days?
Or are thoughts of me only black, never lively or bright?
And do you ever wonder how I'm doing,
wonder what I'm going through, and
do you ever want to know if I'm alright?
Beer, Gin, Crabs, and Vomit: A song about meeting somebody in a bar, and going home with them, and why that’s always a really good idea.
While that big fat moon above shines down on love, he sits alone just talking to himself.
He says, “Excuse me sir, I thought you were someone else,
someone a shitload charminger than you,
someone who can make a lonely one a lucky two.”
White wine and sushi, a smoochie movie, second gin and tonic in her fist,
“This movie’s crap! Boys who love like that do not exist,
but maybe we could stroll on down to the bar.
‘Cause in case they do, I’m sure that’s where they are.”
Where vision is blurred, sweet talk is slurred, and those beer lights are twinkling stars.
As she comes nearer, it becomes clear her image through the bottom of his glass
is near perfection, except her hair, face, tits, and ass.
He’ll have a couple more, and then see how she rates.
True love is blind. Drunk love hallucinates.
Right now she’s a three over all. She’ll be a nine by last call, and a zero at half past eight.
(You know the next morning, like eight o’clock? You know what I mean?)
So baby what’s your poison? What’ll make me look like him (like Kerry Grant).
Tonight it’s beer for the boys, and for the young lady - dry gin.
Bartender, hit her once again, and just leave that bottle there my friend.
No more negotiations, deliberations. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.
“Won’t you escort me to my Lumina my dear?
I’ll start her up, and I’ll close one eye for luck.
‘Cause I’m far too drunk to drive, but just right to…..”
“Since my seventh Tanqueray I’ve liked you…..”
“I’m too drunk to drive, but just right to fuck.
I’m so glad we met. Do me a favor, my pet. Roll down that window in case you,
can tell by your face you might need a place to throw up.”
“Yeah, I’m so glad we met. I’ll make this a night to remember to forget.”
“I’m gonna give you crabs, and watch you throw up.”
Boiler Room: Don’t even ask me what this one is about.
Flipped the coin. Rolled the bones. I dreamed what I dreamed then I woke up alone.
That’s just how it is in the boiler room where the fire gets fed. Will it light up my will, or destroy me instead?
There’s no way to know when the monster’s right outside the door.
Don’t matter anymore what’s real and what’s true,
when I am not allowed to sort it out with you.
I’ve always told you that providence is just a tool used by righteous to rule the fool.
I’ve never believed in the “meant to be” or the “evermore.” Fate is capricious and luck is a whore.
So how did I wind up so overwhelmed, and so surprised,
so raw, and so unwise? It’s not like me at all.
When did I take up with the fools? I don’t recall.
Eons pass, no one has clue about why we’re still here.
Poets preach, and scholars teach, but it never gets more clear.
And still we order food in our restaurants, and tell our children that everything’s alright.
But right here tonight, there is you and me, and we’re too smart to let fear of everything tear us apart.
No we’re not in love. We’re the best of friends. Aw, ain’t that sweet? A saccharin win from the jaws of defeat.
But I must repeat, the monster’s right outside the door.
Don’t matter anymore what’s real and what’s true,
when I am not allowed to sort it out with you.
So how did I wind up so overwhelmed, and so surprised,
so raw, and so unwise? It’s not like me at all.
When did I take up with the fools? When did they change up all the rules?
When did the climate grow so cruel? I don’t recall.
Wind up the clock. Watch the decades roll by. No, this is not a real emotion. Something’s sticking in my eye.
Baby I know that the show didn’t end like you wanted. The seats are hard as iron, and the theatre’s haunted.
You expected so much more when you walked in the door than a promise, and some jewelry, and a weak metaphor.
And this Adventure Boy, he ain’t a hero at all. He doesn’t do the heavy lifting. Doesn’t come when you call.
He just believes, and he dreams, and he calls you his girl.
This is a stupid world. This is a really stupid world.
Don’t you forget it. It’ll tell you you’ve got time. Put you to sleep if you let it…….
It's Tuesday morning, and I'm so much less invincible than I always thought I was.
The rain is cool soft surrender. Guess I'll soak it up because
I know that giving up is just giving up on a past that never truly was,
and Tuesday's grey memories are blurred, and vaporous.
And if I cast a bleary eye toward the future, my view is obscured by panic and baseless pride.
I see the foggy summit of Wednesday, but not down the other side
to Thursday's great success, or Friday's emptiness when dreams and truths collide.
They said there'd be days like this. I'd always hoped they'd lied.
Looking up from every puddle is the lowest of the low.
How fitting that my reflection floats on top of the mud and filth below.
Today I'm bent to broken by the thought of things. And I wonder, does it show?
Another look, another puddle tells me no.
So here I stand, cold cash in hand, to buy another round.
She pores me dirty bourbon, eyes the window, says, "Man, it's coming down."
I tell her, "Honey, you don't know the half of it." Then politely turn around.
And in spite of endless waves of ugly music,
in spite of every lip and tongue that's moving,
and though the weather has filled this room with every clown in town,
I'll remember Tuesday without a sound.
If I'm Alright: This is a really personal song. So if you wanna know what it’s about, buy me a couple bourbons next time you see me, and maybe I’ll tell you. I can't promise anything, but the dryer the bourbon, the looser my lips.
Thought of you today. I remembered everything.
Chased those thoughts away. It's no good remembering.
Are your thoughts of me only black, never lively or bright?
And do you ever wonder if I'm doing alright?
Sat alone for hours, contemplating nothing new.
Finally took a shower. The smell of lavender shampoo
took me back to your door on a happier day,
and made me hope that, in your heart, you hope I'm okay.
I can't believe how fast the years have tumbled by.
Too late to learn my lesson now. It's too late to try
to make it up to you. I can't undo the worst I've done,
but I can't let regret define me.
Guess that's why I'm here. Thanks for picking up the phone.
Your voice so close to my ear somehow makes me more alone.
So I'll get to the point, the reason I called,
to ask you, "Do you ever hope I'm happy at all?"
And I'm not trying to find a way to set things right;
just some peace of mind before I say goodnight.
Has retrospect been my friend? Has it softened your gaze?
And now and then, do you wonder what I'm up to these days?
Or are thoughts of me only black, never lively or bright?
And do you ever wonder how I'm doing,
wonder what I'm going through, and
do you ever want to know if I'm alright?
Beer, Gin, Crabs, and Vomit: A song about meeting somebody in a bar, and going home with them, and why that’s always a really good idea.
While that big fat moon above shines down on love, he sits alone just talking to himself.
He says, “Excuse me sir, I thought you were someone else,
someone a shitload charminger than you,
someone who can make a lonely one a lucky two.”
White wine and sushi, a smoochie movie, second gin and tonic in her fist,
“This movie’s crap! Boys who love like that do not exist,
but maybe we could stroll on down to the bar.
‘Cause in case they do, I’m sure that’s where they are.”
Where vision is blurred, sweet talk is slurred, and those beer lights are twinkling stars.
As she comes nearer, it becomes clear her image through the bottom of his glass
is near perfection, except her hair, face, tits, and ass.
He’ll have a couple more, and then see how she rates.
True love is blind. Drunk love hallucinates.
Right now she’s a three over all. She’ll be a nine by last call, and a zero at half past eight.
(You know the next morning, like eight o’clock? You know what I mean?)
So baby what’s your poison? What’ll make me look like him (like Kerry Grant).
Tonight it’s beer for the boys, and for the young lady - dry gin.
Bartender, hit her once again, and just leave that bottle there my friend.
No more negotiations, deliberations. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.
“Won’t you escort me to my Lumina my dear?
I’ll start her up, and I’ll close one eye for luck.
‘Cause I’m far too drunk to drive, but just right to…..”
“Since my seventh Tanqueray I’ve liked you…..”
“I’m too drunk to drive, but just right to fuck.
I’m so glad we met. Do me a favor, my pet. Roll down that window in case you,
can tell by your face you might need a place to throw up.”
“Yeah, I’m so glad we met. I’ll make this a night to remember to forget.”
“I’m gonna give you crabs, and watch you throw up.”
Boiler Room: Don’t even ask me what this one is about.
Flipped the coin. Rolled the bones. I dreamed what I dreamed then I woke up alone.
That’s just how it is in the boiler room where the fire gets fed. Will it light up my will, or destroy me instead?
There’s no way to know when the monster’s right outside the door.
Don’t matter anymore what’s real and what’s true,
when I am not allowed to sort it out with you.
I’ve always told you that providence is just a tool used by righteous to rule the fool.
I’ve never believed in the “meant to be” or the “evermore.” Fate is capricious and luck is a whore.
So how did I wind up so overwhelmed, and so surprised,
so raw, and so unwise? It’s not like me at all.
When did I take up with the fools? I don’t recall.
Eons pass, no one has clue about why we’re still here.
Poets preach, and scholars teach, but it never gets more clear.
And still we order food in our restaurants, and tell our children that everything’s alright.
But right here tonight, there is you and me, and we’re too smart to let fear of everything tear us apart.
No we’re not in love. We’re the best of friends. Aw, ain’t that sweet? A saccharin win from the jaws of defeat.
But I must repeat, the monster’s right outside the door.
Don’t matter anymore what’s real and what’s true,
when I am not allowed to sort it out with you.
So how did I wind up so overwhelmed, and so surprised,
so raw, and so unwise? It’s not like me at all.
When did I take up with the fools? When did they change up all the rules?
When did the climate grow so cruel? I don’t recall.
Wind up the clock. Watch the decades roll by. No, this is not a real emotion. Something’s sticking in my eye.
Baby I know that the show didn’t end like you wanted. The seats are hard as iron, and the theatre’s haunted.
You expected so much more when you walked in the door than a promise, and some jewelry, and a weak metaphor.
And this Adventure Boy, he ain’t a hero at all. He doesn’t do the heavy lifting. Doesn’t come when you call.
He just believes, and he dreams, and he calls you his girl.
This is a stupid world. This is a really stupid world.
Don’t you forget it. It’ll tell you you’ve got time. Put you to sleep if you let it…….