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Walk out the door, don’t look back, leave your January cap
in the corner of the closet with the ancient script attached.
Newer towns and different schemes to breed these outlaw scholar dreams
from these golden strips of pavement from your city memories.
Can I hear that one again about the time that you got lost in acid?
Write me another page soaked in whiskey wisdom from Merle Haggard.
You’ll return again I hope, to share some thoughts
and some words and some songs and some dope.
A lost bandit stealing time
to laugh through the summertime.
I’ll miss these days but I wish you well.
Close this book, no strings attached, leave a secondary map
and an undisclosed address to keep the cops off of your back.
Because this world ain’t what it seems, it’s just a rhetorician’s dream,
filled with skateboards and punk songs and drunken harmony.
Can I hear that one again about New Mexico in love and anger?
You smile when you say her name, in the fall on the phone searching for Jack Daniels.
You’ll return again I hope, to share a long forgotten verse,
slap yourself with a joke.
A lost bandit stealing wine,
a southern crush in the summertime.
I’ll miss these days but I wish you well.
When you’re gone don’t waste your time on the words left unsaid
and if the repo man comes to your door I’ll tell him you’re in bed
with hangover dreams about somewhere you’ve never seen,
with your girl by your side, laying crooked in your sleep.
Can I hear that one again about the 1970’s in Hazzard?
Or the time you smashed your daddy’s car
in the garage with a wicked grin and hammer.
You’ll return again I hope, to share these same old songs
about our friends and our smoke.
A lost bandit stealing wine,
to laugh through the summertime.
I’ll miss these days but I wish you well.
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2. |
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It used to be I used to see these hills as suffocating, forcing me to steal from the Goodwill, a snickers bar for lunch. They used to stare me down, from every bridge in town they’d say “you’ll never find new friends or love and by the way I hope you liked those fries ‘cause you’ll be eating from the O’s garbage again tonight.” But now it’s been nearly ten years and countless pounders of Iron City beer and as it seems I had these hills all wrong they were never suffocating at all, they were just holding me close and now I never want to go. One day I’m gonna shout from every bridge in town. Your grey skies no longer get me down. I love this city for everything she’s given to me. From every bridge in town. My heart is steelbound though the steel’s long gone nowhere to be found. From every bridge in town.
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Repeat the same songs in our heads while they stick to our ribs deep inside of the jackets we borrowed from friends we decide to keep at a close range, from our pasts we forgot and all tried to reclaim.
As we listen to the heat coming from the floor vents, up above second floors in the three story houses we rent all our time drawing maps of the rooms in our heads we still bump into walls everyday.
Keep our feet facing forward in shoes that we've taped up again through the faces and smudges of makeup and ties on the necks of the corpses that fill up their mouths to the point where they're full.
These songs are the words and styles that we shape with our hearts and our fingers in splints that we shake at ourselves for times that we thought we were pure, with a twist of a smile we see everyday.
Our lives intersect, through a touch out of reach. I strum on the couch as you play in the street, for the patrons of pavement that look the other way.
This tension concedes to the arc in the path as the faces I’ve learned on this street flicker past like the ghosts in between the reminders and paint-covered pages,
Exchanging glances with a man keeping time on the side of his hand in his versions of songs that he heard as a kid. Now he prays through his fingers and strings in between the corners, a warning we see everyday.
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4. |
My Mid-Punk Crisis
02:17
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I can’t seem to wake up to take a bicycle ride five miles at five in the morning. And I can’t seem to get back all the feelings that I used to have, about just about everything, but I keep trying. I’m dying my hair my hair black and blue today. I’m hoping this might spark some kind of change in me like when I was fourteen, but I really got to stop living in past. You, you’re right here beside me and I know that you feel it to. It’s just that neither of us knows quite what to do. Yeah you, you’re in the same boat I am and just like me you’re probably wondering how the fuck we just jump out and swim. It seems my negativities keep feeding off of one another, its like they’re eating up on Forbes at our favorite Chinese buffet. And it’s giving us both the same kind of stomachache. I’m gonna ride that bike in the morning. How many times have I lied this to myself? I’m gonna ride that bike in the morning. When I wake up I’m gonna crawl out of this shell.
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5. |
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Is hope something you can borrow? Because mine seems to be running thin. And the four zines in my bathroom have been the same four since who knows when. Fool me once, shame on me. You stole it all and made it look so goddamned easy to crush our years of hope into a diamond of despair until I’ve reached the point where I don’t care. But mark these words: one day that little diamond stone will cut the glass that tears our flesh and smash the clubs that break our bones. But I don’t care. No, I don’t care. Yeah, mark these words: one day that little diamond stone will cut the glass that tears our flesh and smash the clubs that break our bones. And I’ll be there. Yeah, I’ll be there.
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6. |
Habibti
03:16
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A friend of mine once told me that you never get to pick the ones you fall in love with and the ones that you might lose again. In time I’ve understood that he was right and it’s hard to lay alone in bed without you by my side. My hands can’t hold a callous and my hairs are turning grey. My stomach’s getting bigger as I count the years away. I miss your arms around me as you smile when you say “I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Another friend once told me that you never get to win, cuz’ the ones you hold the tightest are the ones that always leave again. I’ve never understood if she was right, but it makes think about a different place, a different time. You talk yourself in circles and you worry everyday. You’re too opinionated for the other half to take, but I miss my arms around you and I smile when I say “I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Nowadays I never ask my friends for their advice because they tell me that I fall in love to easily sometimes. I can’t help it but I understand it’s true, as I wander on these streets and all I think about is you. You used to drive me crazy but now you make me feel sane. This gap seems so enormous because you live so far away, but soon I’ll have my arms around you and you’ll hear me say “I couldn’t have it any other way.”
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7. |
Lowtide (and the Dippah)
03:34
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Is this a sign of what the future’s gonna bring, or what the past has left behind? I said goodbye, and made my way out to the ocean with my brother by my side. The end of spring, the edge of earth where the rocks and the water meet. The sun conveys a summer birth. Shed this skin beside my feet. Shoot the moon between the bridge and the sand, a vision of the world that disappears again and erases tomorrow. It must be time to fight against this fucking sanity and wash it through the tide. The stars aligned into their patterns out of reach between our fingers late at night. Pieces of wreckage line the ocean floor, encased in shells. Washed away beyond the fading shore, that’s never ending. As the tide flows in the bay and the shoreline marks are washed away, I’ll cast a song far out to sea and hear the ocean in my ears when I’m asleep tonight.
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You’ve got that perfect smile. You’ve got that upbeat cheer. You’ve got command of all the right words when chewing at people’s ears. I’ve got these broken teeth. I’ve got these ink stained hands. I’ve got shit-talk that I hide behind all the time in lieu of what friendship demands. And you’re up there and I’m down here and I’m not sure who you are. When you’re not here are you still the same troubadour rocking that guitar? Or are you someone different when you go? Well if so you put on quite a show. The cause for this jealousy explained simply: you’re faking it so much better than me. You’ve got that social charm. I’ve got this one-man band. You’ve got all of those sweet old memories that I only wished I had. And you’re in there and I’m out here and I’m not sure who I am. But when I go back in I swear this time I’ll try harder to pretend. But I know I’ll just be faking it again. The cause for this jealousy stated briefly: you’re faking it so much better than me. And you’re in there and I’m out here.
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9. |
The Whiskey Thief
02:47
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I’m missing sips from my Jack Daniels bottle, tell me have you seen the thief? When I get a little sober I might find a clue to tell me where to peek. Cuz’ I’ve been searching high and low from underneath the table on the floor, but still I can’t remind myself of how I fell right through the bathroom door. I’ve got a loaded pistol full of vengeance for the man who stole the whiskey bottle from underneath my hand, and I’ve got no sympathy for the crooked whisky thief who stole my only promise from the sober working week. Have you seen my leather boots I don’t remember where I left them yesterday? They’re usually outside the door but it looks like they got up and walked away. I’m a few dollars short from the money that I left by the bed. I woke up to find that ten bills had been lifted with no evidence again to prove that I’m that I’m wrong, but I’m right; to prove that I challenged the right man to a fight. And I can’t remember how I fought or what I did. If I knew that fucking thief had stole my pills and my gin I’d fight again. Well it seems that the whiskey thief also ran off with my clothes. And he must have done some snorting cuz’ the kitchen table is covered with my blow. But it’s strange that he was stealing the cocaine and stale alcohol, because I could have sworn I locked up the booze and the powder down the hall. Then it all started to make sense, as I looked in the mirror with a hesitant glance. I found my pills and my gin and the money from my bed, and I remembered late last night stealing whisky from the den. I’m the whisky thief, so it seems I’m drunk again. Stealing things from myself and I blame it on my friends. I have no idea of the time or the day and I can’t fall in love cuz’ this gin makes me hate. Just one more chaser for my pitiful fate that will leave me time for dreaming. And who the hell stole my booze anyway?
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10. |
The Fool
02:37
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I wish that I could still follow the fool and walk down that path that’s been painted black by the night, to the waterfall he says is there that I can hear. And by the tracks sounds like a nice place we could drink our beer. But I can’t and he understands. So we sit and we smoke a cigarette and reminisce about the fun we used to have when we were kids. But now we’re working hard to pay the bills to keep the roof over our heads. Trying to keep ourselves happy and keep our kids fed. The fool says that he thinks he’s going crazy. But I think he’s just growing old like me. We all change so just keep whistling, keep whistling. But when you’re walking you’ve got to avoid that cliff. We all got to avoid that cliff. I’ve seen all these old friends floating around with busted dreams, things they thought they would but they never did. And now they’re working hard to pay the bills to keep the roof over their heads. Trying to keep themselves happy or keep their kids fed. The fool says that he thinks he’s going crazy. But I think he’s just growing old like me. We all change so just keep whistling, keep whistling. But when you’re walking you’ve got to avoid that cliff. We’ve all got to avoid that cliff.
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11. |
Sixteen
03:27
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When I’m 16, I’ll wear a halo around my head and pair of dark blue jeans. When I’m 16, I’ll wear my hair up in spikes like the guys in the magazines I read. When I’m 16, I’ll travel across the entire land. When I’m 16, I’ll be holding a guitar like I held my mother’s hand. But now I’m 24 and eight years have gone by and I’ve seen it all before, and I know. When I’m old and I’ve had some time to make peace with myself and I’ve told some decent lies that brought smiles to your face, then I’ll sing these songs again. When I’m 17, I’ll drive a big old car and have a nasty streak. When I’m 17, I’ll be the saddest songwriter in the punk rock scene. When I’m 17, I’ll stay out with my friends and I’ll wander aimlessly. When I’m 17, I’ll smash bottles on my head and I’ll dodge the police. But now I’m an old man that stays at home on a Saturday night. And I only have 3 dollars and 83 cents but it will be alright, if you hold my hand and tell me that you love me tonight. When I’m 18, I’ll have my life figured out and my hair dyed green. When I’m 18, I’ll have political statements on the back of my jeep. When I’m 18, I’ll fall in love with a girl who’s got a big tattoo. When I’m 18, I’ll fall in love a woman that don’t wear any shoes. But now I’m 24 with some gin on my breath, can you spare a little more? Because I’ve been drinking away these simple songs in my brain and I can’t help believing I’m two steps from insane, but I’ve got you in my life and I don’t want to be a kid again.
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12. |
We Never Sleep
02:10
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Here we are, the same faces again in this bar. And the dream has come true (little rock stars). And it may not seem like it’s any big thing but consider the cubicle. Early to bed, early to rise makes a man miss all of this. Street lights flicker on. Train whistles music everywhere. Ashtray’s full at dawn. An unexpected fishing trip. And even if there’s nothing to say, you still smile when they play. So how much more can there be, really? When most of us get none of this. We’re the lucky ones.
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13. |
I Mean, Look at Us
02:09
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We’re all mothers now and fathers now but we’re all wild children still inside. None above mistakes we make or having silly secrets to confide in you today. I wish that I could get away from here. Or maybe if I’d had just one less beer tonight. We’re all mothers now and fathers now but we’re all wild children still inside. I hope none of us is crazy enough to act like we don’t wanna just throw down sometimes. And how fun would it be to go play wall-ball? But we’d all need sitters. And who to call this time? We’re all mothers now and fathers now but we’re all wild children still inside. None above mistakes we make or having stupid feelings to confide in you today. I wish we could all get away from here to some place we could conquer all our fear in time.
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14. |
Song For Dan
03:11
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Here’s to the ones that we haven’t met! And the conversations with pets where we seem to confide every secret of life. We drink whiskey by day and spiked coffee at night, as the snow hits the halogen bulbs near the bar on the street where I first fell in love. Every time I walk home from this dream where I kiss her goodbye and I walk away happily. Lost in a feeling I meant for the barricades. Hope for a reason to last just another day. Reaping these songs of regret, a small price to pay for the last chance that we need. Stare at the ceiling and whisper the time away. Almost believing the flaws in designs we made. Sewn up with needles and floss where the patches fray, for the last chance that we need. Here’s to the ones that hold our last breath! And to the confrontations with death where we seem to confide every secret of life. We drink whiskey by day and spiked coffee at night, as the snow hits the halogen bulbs near the bar on the street where I used to walk home. I sing an old verse from a song because today we’ll be laughing, tomorrow we’ll be gone.
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15. |
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I’ll trade you songs on the floor of a basement
where the ground’s covered with sweat from the bands that were playing
we seem to be on the same page
despite the distance from here to Iowa, or anywhere I’ve stayed
I’ll sleep right here tonight, in a city that I call my own
Tomorrow it might be a trip out west or another visit to a home
in a place that I’ve never seen, or never guessed
where I can drink free booze and bum cigarettes
until the sun begins to rise out East.
I’ll give you advice but you don’t have to take it
Because there’s a hundred ways to fuck up, and you learn to anticipate it
We seem to sing in the same ways
despite the years I’ve struggled through and the ones that you might face
I’ll sleep right here tonight, in a city that I call my own
Tomorrow it might be a trip out west or another visit to a home
in a place that I’ve never seen, or never guessed
where I can drink free booze and bum cigarettes
until the sun begins to rise out East.
It’s strange that these songs are related
between cowboy shirts and tattoos and voices that must hate us
I bet we’ll meet again one day
probably somewhere in New Jersey, or in a truck stop far away.
I’ll sleep right here tonight, in a city that I call my own
Tomorrow it might be a trip out West or visit to a home
in a place that I’ve never seen, or never guessed
as future memories cement the ways we could have been
until the sun begins to rise out East.
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16. |
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I hate how much I love this city
waiting for a sense of clarity
when the drama fades and lines are drawn
and plans are made
I love how much you hate my pity
waiting for a break in the sanity
when the sunset fades and blinds are drawn
we’ll sleep for days
These self-indulgent songs won’t get us anywhere
but they sound so good in headphones on the bus when you’re not there
These self-important dreams don’t compare to a raised fist
but we need a sing along sometimes to show us what we missed
We breathe and break the time and tension
that washes over us in waves
so far above our heads
we’ll drown unless we stay together
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Cityhands Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Living room jams & porch songs from both sides of Skunk Hollow. Written, performed & recorded by former members of Teddy Duchamp’s Army, Voice in the Wire, Barons, Gunspiking, Aus Rotten, and The Frantic Heart of It.
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