Becoming the Lastnames (Live at City Winery, Nashville, TN)

Donu0027t take the following words as reverence for tradition

Iu0027ve learned to pick my battles by losing most Iu0027ve fought.

The more mores subverted, the more I sense Iu0027m missing

And Iu0027ll always do it my way, even if thatu0027s just the same way I was taught.

Iu0027ll bring home the bread and youu0027ll stay home and bake it

Weeding out the garden where the milestones gather moss

Crack a smile at my vows, and whisper “wow, can you believe we really made it?”

As I give up on dodging rice, and fold my cape, I say “obviously not.”

But I want to be just like my parents before I was born

Oh can we be just like my parents?

I know you donu0027t want kids but think about a daughter

We could name her Gwendolyn, like mom would have called me.

Iu0027m not sure yet myself, but I learned from a good father

Yeah, I mean sure, they messed me up. But I think thatu0027s just the gig.

And maybe itu0027s just some hormones that kick in in your late twenties

But I have laid a lot of women, and now Iu0027d like to just lay down

And marriage always scared me, but Iu0027d like to have a last love

And love can last a pretty good long while. Iu0027ve seen it around.

Oh, can we be just like my parents when I was young?

Why canu0027t we be just like my parents?

Tongue out of my cheek now, Iu0027m done pulling faces

Iconoclasm wanes. My cynicism tires

But what do I know bout forever when so far, Iu0027ve been so fleeting?

Babe, my frontal lobeu0027s done growing; this might just be how Iu0027m wired

But now weu0027re kissing before brushing, smile with our whole faces

If you want a hyphen last name I guess I donu0027t mind the cadence

Iu0027ve seen home videos. I was there back in the 80u0027s

And if Iu0027m just them and they back then could do it, why canu0027t I?

Just like my parents in due time

Imagine me, just like my parents? Yeah, right.

‘Cause Iu0027ve made more mistakes, than simple empty moments

Each one as out of character as you know I tend to be

Thereu0027ll be scalpers at the cemetery gates, with all my would-be widows weeping

Iu0027d have forgotten all their names, so why should you remember me?

But if we grow old together and you talk to my headstone,

That is, assuming that I die first, (which is fair) and assuming I donu0027t leave

Close enough to forever, I guess, to prove what I hoped.

I mean otherwise how am I to believe?