Alarm

Up a little past dawn
no more sleep.
Our eyes still heavy, but
we’re not alone.
We’re not alone.

As we’re driving to work
the proof’s on the highway:
the traffic’s screaming out
“we’re not alone;
no, we’re not alone.”

And every brake-signal’s a symbol
that comes crashing down on our dreams:
we’re not going anywhere
but we’ve taken to the streets
to try to give our lives meaning.

And everything I’ve learned
I’ve learned from the horizon:
he stumbles, he tries to stay bright,
but he always falls–
and I follow suit.

But tonight I’ve got some people
who will make things better.
When I’m with them I see like the sun
for just a short time–
with my eyes shining bright.

But tomorrow it all starts again,
when we’re back to our day-to-day lives.
But life’s just a temporal moment,
so let’s make it worthwhile.

And some see their careers shining
like a medal they put on display,
but don’t worry if you don’t fit in with them,
I think I feel the same.

Because it’s our time spent
that means anything to me.
And I don’t care
if I die and don’t leave a legacy.

As long as I got to enjoy this
wonderful life you all help me lead.
So let’s shut the door on Hubris tonight.
Let’s just smile and sing.

Satellites (A Short Drag)

You told me in confidence
like it were a conspiracy
that the clock has got you chained down,

and you stay up late anyway–
defiantly
standing your ground.

You examine your coffee.
You use it like a shield:
to protect you from the violent blows

that come with over-exhaustion,
that come with a job you despise,
that come with an alarm, like a bad friend–
who, when you need him the most,
is never on your side.

And we sit here thinking,
“with all these years,
with all these protest songs,
there’s got to be a better way.”

But at least we’re working for something:
at least some inspiration
that we scribble on the page

before our imagination runs dry
like the ink in these ballpoint pens.

And we try to find a metaphor,
or just write it straight like it is.
We just need a fucking outlet.
We can’t keep it pent up like this,
no, we can’t keep it pent up like this.

Because, sometimes,
we get so caught up in the world
we can’t find
our way out of this dirge.
Surrounded by gray clouds,
we’re letting the monotony take us down.

But we’ve just got
to try our damn best
to shine bright enough to lead us home again.
And we can sing out loud,
like drunken sailors shouting proud:
we’ve always got our sea-legs
and we’re not gonna fall down.

Sometimes our diplomas feel like
just decoration on some white wall.
And if you don’t got one
they say “you’re useless.”

But don’t ever listen to that.
Don’t ever fucking listen to that.

Because if you find
love for these little things
in your life,
you’re beating most, it seems.
They just work themselves to death,
and buy pretty toys
they can stuff in their casket.

But we’ve just got to try our damn best
to shine bright enough to lead us home again.
And we can sing out loud,
like drunken sailors
shouting proud:
we’ve always got our sea-legs
and we’re not gonna fall down.
And even if we never find solid-ground,
we’ve got our sea-legs
and we’re never, ever, ever gonna fall down.

Buried Away

Winter’s keeping her secrets safe:
locked up in those deadened trees
whose branches don’t dare to sway.
They just reach down towards the ground
and scrawl a note to the dying day.
Saying: “kid,
you could learn a lot from me.

Keep it buried away.
Lock it so far inside
it’ll never see the light of day.
Buried away.”

And you can try to write.
Make your notebook your mirror
till you see yourself between the lines.
Then, take all that ink
that you kept tattooed inside,
and give it to the Winter
so she’ll keep it with her
cold, cold, cold, cold night.

Keep it buried away.
Lock it in your labyrinth-heart
so they will never find their way.
Buried away.

Acrobat

When I try to sing
there’s this lump stuck in my throat
from swallowing
the day too hard.

I can’t bring it back up;
sometimes I feel it’ll never go away–
like I just can’t
live with it.

well, Chris once told me
“we’ll always want more,
but as long as we can be
happy with what we’ve got
it’s fine.”

And I’d love to live
believing him this time,
because he’s just so right.

So I’m training myself
to not take this for granted again.
I’ll be an acrobat,
’cause this time I may not have a net;
and if I fall, imagine just
the cold concrete instead.
The cold concrete instead.

So I’m trying real hard
not to worry myself sick,
wind up spending all
these days in bed.

And I know it’s you all
that’ll pull me through–
’cause spring’s here now,
so i feel like,

well, it’s gotta mean something to me
in this chain of events:
’cause your smile’s got my mind set on
being free.

Like a hacksaw cutting through these days.
And, I think that’s all I need.

So I’m training myself
to not take this for granted again.
I’ll be an acrobat.
And this time I may not have a net,
so if i fall, imagine just
the cold concrete instead.
The cold concrete instead.

Directions

There’s construction up ahead
that’s stopping us
from going any further with this.

We’re repaving our lives,
we’re fixing what potholes we see
that we’ve gotten over time.

We’re both taking a detour
and getting the hell out of here.

But as I’m sitting in this traffic
of these past few months,
you probably don’t know
I’ve been thinking about this–
about you;
about placing my hands, like directions, into yours,
and asking “where should we go?”

1 x 1

Cataclysmic words we have spoken,
well, they have broken our electricity.
And now we walk in the dark all alone,
no topic in our minds,
visibly irate.
Well, I know,
without a “you” we’ve got nothing to show.

And tomorrow’s just a feeling inside
that it might come and take apart our night,
and still put no one by our side.
We’re one times one tonight.

We’re wonderful.

We’re irate, we know,
with no one to show.
We’re irate, we know,
without a “you” to show.

An Ode to Docked Ships and Impossible Voyages

Oh, my ship in a bottle
how I’m glad you are here.
Landlocked as I’ve been
you give me hope.

And I can see right through
what is holding you back
from setting sail with me.

Is that true?
Or is it only me

who is sea-eager all the time?
Thinking of you as my satellite?
Oh, I could swear
I saw the same thing
in your eyes

when you leaned back in your chair,
looked into me with a tired stare
that seemed to say,
“some nights I wish
that you could take me anywhere,
so just find a way
to get me out to sea.”

Oh, my ship in a bottle
I’m giving up cartography.
I’m making maps, but I know you’ll never take me.

So, my ship in a bottle,
I’ll end this daydream,
and just drift off into the lonely sea.

Senescence

Our senescence parallels an aging road:
splinters and cracks form
with winter’s approach.
And the chill of the night brings forth
a scent of snow–
with the clouds nominating
where the next halo goes.

But this shredded terrain won’t turn me away,
it won’t turn me away.
I’ll walk with torn-up feet
until our last of days.

Bird & Moon

(Based on the lovely comic of the same name by Rosemary Mosco)

Well, baby, I’ve been feeling so alone.
Even as the crowds were swarming me
and the cars went out of their way
to torture me,
I felt like I was
just looking for someone to share this view.
I was frightened when the sun did sink,
and I stared into the sky looking for someone
just like me.

Then that crescent above,
well, it scared the hell out of me
when it came down from its high ascent
to share this lonely world that I’ve
inhabited.
And with just one note, I knew
my whole world was changed.
And I responded in kind as I watched your flight,
and this time I was following
right behind.

And you showed me that there are people out there
just like me:
singing alone in their rooms
just waiting for that person they need.
And whether it was right or wrong,
for a while we shared everything.
And underneath the night sky we were free.

Then you put your arm around me
and closed your eyes;
and in the darkness, I knew it’d be alright.
As the day evaporated the night I
was left
amazed.

Hang Up the Phone

These summer nights can be cathartic now.
You should just spill out your fears–
wipe up your regret with a paper towel
to absorb all that fell this year.

Then you could throw it out
in conversation or into the trash.
I just want to hear you shout out loud
that you’re finally smiling
at last.

Because it’s taken you oh-so-long
while you’re waiting for him to call
to pick you up only to drop you.
Just to drop you.

And I know you know already
what you should just do tonight,
but you’re human
and your mind, heart, and body
all seem to love this fight.

And watching it all unfold
you feel like the protagonist in some play.
But don’t feel bad if your monologue sounds the same
every day.

Because I really don’t mind
listening to any asides
that you think may cleanse your life.
I’m here to listen or remind you,
to listen and remind you

that you deserve
better than this.
Well, you don’t have to put up
with any of his bullshit.

Just kick him out of your heart–
it’s your house,
and he’s broken in.
And now he’s locking all of your ventricles
and stopping anyone
from coming in.

But I’m gonna try to make this song
a battering ram or a locksmith,
’cause he doesn’t know
we’re not gonna give up so easy
on getting in.

No we’re not gonna give up so easy,
no, we’re not gonna give up so easy,
no, we’re not gonna give up so easy
on you.

Well, I’ll hear you out–
you’re not out of your mind.
And we’ll see things through,
’cause when you think your blind
I’m gonna try my best to lead you.

And if I can’t
we’ll just make up some games in the dark,
like we’ll count how many fuck-ups
we thought were sparks,
and how they ignited nothing
but regret.

The Way Back (A Forecastle Song)

“This is something that we picked up,
so it’s something we can shake.
We’ll watch this bounty of our sadness
fall to the earth, like the leaves.

Well it’s autumn now and we’re stuck
getting rid of our sins,
and everything our friends
tell us to drop again.

Maybe it’s a number,
or a name, or that last shot,
or just some vice we use
to forget our state.

And each stranger’s laugh’s just like a crow
picking at what’s dying inside:
those simple pleasures
we tried so hard to keep alive.

So, now, tell me what you are praying for,
and I’ll share mine with you.
‘Cause we both desperately know,
well, it’s gotta come true.
Well we know it’s gotta come true.”

then you said:

“Mike, we’re gonna be alright.
That’s just the alcohol talking,
we’ll be fine in the morning light.
Now, call me after you walk home tonight;
I wanna make sure you got there alright.
I wanna make sure you got there alright.”

Let’s Go Exploring!

I saw your name
in drifts of snow,
the cursive outside my window.

The penmanship
of winter is clean,
and I knew right then where I would be.

I grabbed a scarf,
wrapped it around
my neck before I headed out

to your place–
where I’d ask you then
if you would come be kids again.

And you said, “only if we could run around
making forts and sledding down

any hills we could find
in this town we grew up in.”
“Well, of course” I replied.
It all started making sense:

The world looks brand new–
a fresh clean start,
like a big white sheet
of paper to draw on.

“It’s a magical world,
ol’ buddy” I think.
And we cast off our doubts
shouting “let’s go exploring!”

My latest CD, Drunken Sailors is out and available to download!

I’m really excited about this CD. Hopefully you all enjoy it. Let me know what you think.

You can download the CD by right clicking the track names and clicking “save as” or “save link as,” whichever your browser says. Or, by popular request, you can download the whole CD as one zip file (including album artwork).

Free music! Go pillage!

Have a wonderful day.

mike_______*__