1. |
Not Every Garden Is Eden
03:08
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On the rush hour train going west towards Canaan
It took me a minute to find my reflection
’Til I saw I’d grown into my own apprehension
Careworn against the immaculate morning
Two strangers discussed who’d take the window seat
He was reading about detective suicides in the police beat
And she was a child
Wearing a shirt saying “I am the hope, I am the dream”
And I was fresh off a night
Left me with runs in my tights
And desire thick like grenadine
I walked down cobblestone
Stoking the flames of recollection
Against the backs of leather jackets
Oh I surrendered to each suggestion of you
You said you’re still learning discipline
Will you teach me once you do?
Cologne ads on billboards
Lines wrapped around trendy stores
Art replications posted on gallery doors
Shopping bags and tourist traps
String-light snow flakes on streetlamps
Oh Canaan
Lust laden garden
You know I’d like to think so
Not every garden is Eden
There’s a bookstore round the corner
I once wandered to in the summer
When I was still garnering my freedom
When I was still too young a lover
Since then I’ve offered of myself
More than I was ready to give away
I let on too much
More than I’d like to display
I’ve fallen for Jazzmen
With smooth guitars and old souls
And I fell for a couple of those
Silver tongued intellectuals
Deep in reverie
I found a false sense of intimacy
Promiscuity, loving nobody
I thought that would be release
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2. |
Madeleine
01:45
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Sunday in terrycloth on Clinton St.
Madeleine finds herself
In the thoughts she’d fall asleep to
Afterglow still entire
She’s warm in its embrace
But the bathwater’s to her ankles
She washes it away
The bus ticket bookmark
A 10 am cup of tea
The necklace she thought she lost in her sleep
Her eventide lover
Who awakes forsaken
And fulfilled by her solitude
An unfettered Madeleine
Sunday in yellow silk on Clinton St.
Madeleine walks herself
To the nursery where she reaches
For chrysanthemums and lavender
To press beneath her mattress
There’s a man standing on the corner
Holding hydrangeas and a canvas
Energy and abstraction
Red, orange and black
Madeleine asks if she could see
But quickly hands the canvas back to him
The colors stay with her
They circle ‘round her head
But the painter begs to differ
He feels nothing much is said
Sunday in cotton on Clinton St.
Children play along the sidewalk
Mother watches from her seat
A wish on a dandelion
Picked from between the pavement
Seeds like dreams in the air
Reflect the scenes of children’s games
And Madeleine like a child
Eyes still wide and head still high
Sings along to songs of love
Thinks of the painter she passed by
Her legs wish to know him well
They don’t care where his have taken him
But its fleeting and brief
For an unfettered Madeleine
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3. |
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I’m leaving before winter comes
I won’t get to see your hair grow long
I’m leaving before winter comes
I won’t get to see your hair grow long
I was no model of maturity
Though I’m not sure I fooled you
The act was for me
But you could’ve fooled me
You’re very sweet when you want something
Drunkenly sweet until you withdraw
Pensive at the edge of the bed
You pick up my guitar
Your eyes stare far off
And you turn away your head
I tend overestimate myself and my place
You embrace me
Then you say you’ve got some other place to be
So you kiss me then you leave me
But I can’t pretend
There isn’t blood on both our hands
In an act of self restraint
I feigned indifference
I lost my chance
Over a smoldering Friday night phone call
One thing led to another
You told me how you’d love me
When this is all over
You left me waiting
Though you owe me no explanation
We were no longer lovers
We were just playing the part
Now all thats left were embers
Where I was looking for a spark
Over a sobering Monday morning coffee
I realized I won’t be so high reminiscing
On the counter l had the portrait
You had taken of me
With your camera from the war
One night I was singing my lonely songs
And all the words I sang for you
To someone else are now brand new
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