Lyrics
Last night we tried to watch Manchester by the Sea
For the second time trying to watch it, we fell asleep
But last week, we watched Palo Alto, starring James Franco
But we got through it, now that was a good one
Today is my day of listening
Today is my day of not speaking
Today is my day of writing
Today is my day of reading
Today is my day of reflecting
Today is my day of silently thinking
My quiet meditative day
The cat is on her green quilt on the coffee table
Looking over the bay
And the rain pours, and it pours, and it pours
It's the season of rain
But now, it's a new night
But now, it's another night
And I'm back to work singing
While the musicians are bringing
Lovely music to my singing
And to the parts where I am speaking
Place any poem here
It's beautiful automatically
How can it not be?
How can it not be?
Eeny-meeny-miny-mo
Catch a tiger by its toe
If he hollers, let him go
Eeny-meeny-miny-mo
And now again is my time of quiet
Now is my time to let the music do the talking
To let the piano and the drums and
The hollow body guitar do everything
It's time for me to pause now, to just breathe, to let the music be
Now I feel it's time to be singing
To send good thoughts to the sick for their healing
To wish for all countries to stop bombing
To wish for the starving to be eating
To remember being young and catching snakes in the field
I walk to North Beach and back, silently, ghostly
Where nobody knows me, where nobody stops me
Over to Trieste to get an iced tea
Where nobody knows me
If I wasn't there, the world would turn without me
Nobody knows me
A girl walks into Trieste, all curvy
Every guy's head turns
She's got a big ass
She walks awayAn old guy says
"We'll see if those jeans still fit her in ten years."
Guys with guitars were playing Hotel California
When I got to Trieste
At the corner of Grant and Vallejo
At Molinari's, I got the last sweet roll available
And I listened to them play
As I took a sandwich from the bag that was sitting on my lap
It was beautiful and I don't even like The Eagles
They remind me of the most painful and boring corners of suburban life
Backseat of my mom's car, bored
Mad, crazy, crazy bored
On the way to my aunt and uncle's house
They killed my pet pig out there
They said they didn't know he was my pet pig
They cooked him up, they said they didn't know
That the pig was my pet Topo Gigio
They cooked him up at the farm house
And I cried and I cried and I cried like a baby
At my aunt and uncle's farm house
If you're a songwriter and you're having a dry spell
I don't want to hear about writer's block
It sounds like a living hell
If you can't find poetry, I suggest walk around the block
If you can't find it, then write about when
You were a kid and you got the chicken pox
If you grow marijuana, then write about your marijuana crops
If you like animals, then write about the ocelot
And if it's raining outside, then write about the raindrops
I still smell the Ohio farm pig slop
Melding with the smell of the corn crops
I'm a person who, knock on wood
Hasn't suffered a lot of writer's block
For better or for worse, this is my lot in life
I'm not afraid to lose my spot at the cafeteria
With the Tiffany's and the jocks
Are you afraid to sit alone at the cafeteria?
I'm not
For to be an artist is to not be a conformist
That is the meaning to me of being a true artist
I'm a sparrow fluttering around
Unafraid of the bows and arrows darting around
I'm a sparrow not afraid to take an arrow
And to bleed like Pablo Picasso
Did Lou Reed care what people thought?
Did Muhammad Ali care about what lessons the
United States thought that he should be taught?
I look at the cactus in the coffee shop
I look at the succulents in the Spanish clay pots
That cactus might have more left in it than I got
I walk around, around, around, around, around
Around, around, around, around the block
I see poetry in the trash in the parking lot
I see the strip clubs and see the neon signs all lit up
I see the young girls hanging outside with their juicy, thick butts
I ain't no deadbeat pop
And these guys playing guitar, piano, and drums sure are not
Listen to them play, listen to them play
Now it's my time to stop singing
And let the piano, the guitar, and the drums do the talking
And now me, myself, and I and me
We're gonna jump into this pocket now with some vocal
HarmonyOkay now it's time for me to start talking again
'Cause 59 Tomahawk missiles just got launched to Syria
And the mother of all missiles just went down in Afghanistan
And North Korea and the USA are now making a stand
And tension is escalating, and tension is escalating
Watch out leaders
How do you know that one of your owners aren't gonna
Sneak up behind you with a wire and just choke you out?
Choke you out, and choke you out
And choke you out, and choke you out
And choke you out, and choke you out
And choke you out, and choke you out
And stomp you out, and stomp you out
And put you out, and put you out
This is the sound of chaos, this is the sound of war
The sound of the wounded and the suffering
And buildings burning and collapsing, and cities being bombed
And men and women and children are being tortured
And leaders are being assassinated
This is the sound of war
This is the sound of war