Lyrics

AIRPORT SPARROWS LYRICS

 

Instead of This

Instead of this, you could be sitting S-shaped in a study carrel, looking through old Sandusky phone books for villainous names. Or fishing off the riverbank, not for sport, or lying face down in a culvert, your khaki shirt stuck to your back by still-damp blood.

So, it’s not so bad.

Am I wearing my sunglasses?

Okay, I had a few other questions.

Can you hover like a kingfisher? Can you hover like a kingfisher?

Can you hover like a kingfisher, then perch on a reed, gulping, while I adjust my aperture?

Can you laugh more heartily at my jokes? Can you strive to make your laughter infectious?

Can you get me outta this place?

Can you collate my fragments?

Can you draw clouds on my Trapper Keeper with a gold glitter Sharpie?

When you cosign the lease, will you use the Black Sabbath font?

Will you relieve me of my duties? Will you relieve me of my duties?

 

Can you hover like a kingfisher?

Can you hover like a kingfisher like I said before?

Can you hover like a kingfisher?

Can you hover like a kingfisher like I said before?

 

Instead of this, you could be fishing off the riverbank, with makeshift bait. So, it’s not so bad.

Can you call me? Can you call me back? Can you call me?

At this number or at my ma’s house

Can you call me?

Call me back.

 

The Weather on Your Side

 

I used to be the older brother

And I abused the upper hand

I made you keep my secrets

Dished out more than you could stand

But I tried, you know I tried

To atone for all my sins

Anyway, you oughta thank me, you really oughta thank me

Probably thickened up your skin

 

You beat the rain, you had the weather on your side

You got the moon to pull some strings about the tide

You floated all the way from heaven back home

All the way from heaven back home

 

You shrink from my resentment

And from my faith and poverty

You know, our father would’ve hated

That condescending eulogy

All right, I tried, I’ll shut up

I’ll let you circulate

Y’always had what the world wanted

Me, what the town would tolerate

 

You beat the rain, you had the weather on your side

You got the moon to pull some strings about the tide

You floated all the way from heaven back home

All the way from heaven back home

 

You beat the rain, you had the weather on your side

You got the moon to pull some strings about the tide

You floated all the way from heaven back home

All the way from heaven back home

 

I Ain’t Forgotten You

 

I don’t recall the origins of all these scrapes and dents

And at present I can’t name the Secretary of Defense

Nor all my grade-school teachers, though some faces come to mind

And everything they taught us, I left half of that behind

I rarely call on birthdays, no one expects me to

But I’d love to ring next Wednesday, I ain’t forgotten you

 

Now, last year’s Oscar winner is slow to leave my tongue

And I’ve retained only the rudiments from The Portable Carl Jung

I even forget how old I am, I know it starts with five

Sometimes, they say, I hurt myself just to feel alive

In sickness and in health, I don’t reliably come through

But I’ll be waiting at the ER, I ain’t forgotten you

 

I remember you with snowflakes on your eyelashes

Teardrops mingling with your wine

I remember loaning you five thousand dollars

But I said I wouldn’t bring it up this time

 

When I swam the River Lethe, I forgot to bring a towel

When I spell the word liaison, I often drop a vowel

I once forget my manners at a Bloomington blood bank

And when they ask me for my password, I tend to draw a blank

Ah, but unlike Bernie Taupin, I distinguish green from blue

Anyway, your eyes are hazel, I ain’t forgotten you

 

I still remember Fonzie and Schwinn banana seats

And the photographs from Jonestown, how I couldn’t get to sleep

And that trip to Devil’s Tower, where we both sensed the sublime

And the smell of the cellophane on Sign o’ the Times  

Well, tonight I played that record, when we bought it, it was new

And you were there in every pop and click, I ain’t forgotten you

Yeah, tonight I played that record, when we bought it, it was new

And you were there in every pop and click, I ain’t forgotten you

 

Carson City

 

All of us are living in Carson City

And all of us will die in or from Carson City

Most of us have done more to aggravate, than mitigate

Problems stemming from Carson City, yeah

Hell yeah, Carson City

Did’ja get that shirt there?

I’ll bet you paid a bundle

The sleeves are too short, but I like it like that

Boyish, I’d say, not simian

 

All of us are living in Carson City

And all of will die in or from Carson City

Sure, it’s hard to picture some collective act, some binding pact

Equal to the force of Carson City

Stay Strong, Carson City

I was born there, you know. That hardly makes me expert

On Carson City, or anything

So when I say, An apt degree of self-sacrifice, if narrowly shared, just might feel like insanity

You could say, What do you know of self-sacrifice?

And repeat for emphasis, What do you know of  sacrifice?

All you really know is sighing inertia, temporizing greed, Ativan and weed

 

All of us are living in Carson City

And all of use will die in or from Carson City

Everything we try should be compassionate, not trivial

Salves and solutions re: the sins of Carson City

Hell yeah, Carson City

 

Last night I spent a month in Carson City

Last night I spent a month in Carson City

Last night I spent a month in Carson City

Last night I spent a month in Carson City …

 

I’m Not What I Was

 

I can eat my Lorna Doones on chilly Monday afternoons

But I’m still hungry in my dream

Bisect my Oreos while the gnats hover and the streetlamp glows

But I can’t even taste the cream

 

There go the sirens

Here comes the fuzz

You save yourself, my friend

I’m not what I was

I’m not what I was

 

I can shave my face, put on perfume, raise a glass in a rented room

But there’s a bloodstain on the collar of my shirt

Post my shot to Instagram with the barbecue grill and the whole fam

But I’ll still be lonely come dessert

 

There go the sirens

Here comes the fuzz

You save yourself, my friend

I’m not what I was

 

I got up too early, I’m on Mountain Time, plus I’m in a mood and I’m in decline

I hear last night in your voice

Recoil at leisure, repent in haste, I fear your faith has been misplaced

Can I help you make an informed choice?

 

There go the sirens

Here comes the fuzz

You save yourself, my friend

I’m not what I was

I’m not what I was

 

Happiness

 

Well, I cried over some broken bones, and I cried ’cause I was sad

I cried at old Fassbinder and a Maxwell House ad

You know I cried for Patches with pa on his death bed

And in Psych class I cried for Phineas Gage with a rail spike in his head

 

Play “The Last Time I Saw Richard,” once again you’ll see my crying

It’s the coffee percolator that gets me every time

I don’t cry at dog films, some kind of lachrymal gap

But I cry sometimes remembering our baby in your lap

 

Now it might be my party, but I ain’t Lesley Gore

Still, it seems with every birthday, I cry a little more

I have cried for the worst reasons, and I’ve cried for the best

Someday I’m gonna cry again out of happiness

 

I can cut myself off like a conservationist

Then I cry for the catharsis I so foolishly missed

Even when it’s private, it’s like I’m on the job

And I just can’t seem to break out in full-blown sob

 

Now, sometimes I cry so subtle that it’s hard to detect

Other times I gotta push it, you know, to get the right effect

Self-penned wedding vows, I cry without fail

And I cry over the crowd at a going-out-of-business sale

 

Now it might be my party, but I ain’t Lesley Gore

Still, it seems with every birthday, I cry a little more

I have cried for the worst reasons, and I’ve cried for the best

Someday I’m gonna cry again out of happiness

Someday I’m gonna cry again out of happiness

 

Random File

 

If you’d only wait awhile, I could be the one

Be that one you need

Just open my random file, I might be that one

 

Ghost Blog

 

To repeat, it’s all on my ghost blog

Maybe that’s not quite the phrase

I’m all alone here

 

There’s some talk of you on my ghost blog

Our misremembered love

A sandpaper glove

Smoothing out the rough parts in our dreams

Our heels clicking past the Seine

Like two retractable pens

Our coats comin’ apart at the seams

 

I guess I still pay for my ghost blog

Maybe I should let it slide

I’m all alone here

 

Never read the comments on my ghost blog

It’s all misremembered love

A sandpaper glove

Smoothing out the rough parts in our dreams

Our heels clicking past the Seine

Like two retractable pens

Our coats comin’ apart at the seams

 

Our misremembered love

A sandpaper glove

Smoothing out the clichés in our dreams

Our heels clicking past the Seine

Like two retractable pens

Our coats comin’ apart at the seams

 

The Flanks

 

Look how I grip the bullhorn

Atop the brown Renault

There’s my fedora on the Pettis Bridge

Sixth or seventh row

Fearless on the front lines, humble on the flanks

I put spanners ’tween the clock-gears, roses in the tanks

 

Yeah, but it wasn’t all purity

I made a little green

I wrote “Friends in Low Places” in a Grand Forks Hardee’s

Before I turned seventeen

Became a backstage panjandrum of the heartland mainstream

Bought my mother a small island and a Triple-A baseball team

 

Now, I can’t live in the moment

And I don’t like the future’s forecast

So I walk around this milfoil lake

Dreaming my heroic past

In truth I’s missing from the front lines, feckless on the flank

Chained to my tiny orbit like a ballpoint pen at the bank

I’m not asking for absolution, and I don’t deserve your thanks

Just use me on the front lines, or place me on the flanks

 

Reduce Me to Ashes

 

Reduce me to ashes with a cold-hearted glance

Spur on your steed, sharpen your lance

See that my grave is unmarked and unkempt

Remind my survivors of your boundless contempt

Don’t trust in fate, leave nothing to chance

Reduce me to ashes with a cold-hearted glance

 

Reduce me to ashes like an old vengeful god

Spread me around, lay down the sod

I’m the romantic incense you burned alone Sunday night

I’m a scrap of the Sports page, I’m a bummed Camel Light

Send home the hangman, call off the firing squad

Just reduce me to ashes like an old vengeful god

 

Someone sleeping in the backseat, it might be a child

The driver laughs, but not with a smile

 

Reduce me to ashes before you decamp

Clap me off like a TV bedside lamp

I’ve skimmed the report, the end might be near

It’s been a nice ride, ah, but I’ll get off here

Don’t trouble to issue no commemorative stamp

Just reduce me to ashes before your decamp

Turn off the iron, hey, turn up my amp

Reduce me to ashes, reduce me to ashes, reduce me to ashes

Before you decamp

 

Airport Sparrows

[Bird language]

 

Don’t Ask for the Moon

 

Those salad days

When you believed

You were on the rise

There were some nights

Cheap Chardonnay nights

We romanticize

Hey, don’t ask for the moon, now

We still got all these stars in our eyes

 

A dime for your thoughts

I’ll overpay

I’m growing unwise

Tell me the truth

But don’t be afraid

To euphemize

And don’t ask for the moon, now

We still got all these stars in our eyes

 

The world was our oyster, but all those pearls

were the wrong shape and size

So at this late juncture, in lieu of a plan

May I ask you to improvise?

 

If you return

Defrocked and disgraced

And fear your demise

I’ll be your blue angel

Watch from the wings

I’ll idolize

Hey, don’t ask for the moon, now

We still got all those stars in our eyes

Hey, don’t ask for the moon, babe

We still got all these stars in our eyes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Powell's Books
Indie Bound
Barnes & Nobile
Amazon
Bandcamp
Spotify