Gm Blues Song #2

Rapture Blues

It’s just another Saturday morning
Just me and my guitar
Another Saturday morning,
Chillin’ in the bar

Just another Saturday morning
Let the guitar sound
Playin’ poker with the Devil
I think I might double-down

Richard Nixon, Hitler & Judas
Join in the game
Another Sautrday morning,
What a fuckin’ shame

Keep the Yeunglings rolling
For my last day here
At least that’s what I’m hoping…
Where’s my goddamn beer

Another Saturday morning
Here in New Jersey
What did I do was so wrong,
For you to desert me

It’s just another Saturday morning
Just me and the guys
Sitting by the wayside
Waiting for Hell to rise

Keep the rock’n’roll flowing
And the whiskey cold
Another Saturday morning,
Or so I’m told

Richard Nixon, Hitler & Judas
All raise a toast
“To this Saturday morning
“And a wonderful host!”

Another Saturday morning
Just me and my guitar
I bet you I’m more fucked
Than you think you are

What I think of what I'm supposed to think of as home:

Trenton Makes, The World Takes


I tried to draw from memory
What you meant to me:



What I got looked something like bug eyes.


When you stare at your concrete enough
You can be fooled into thinking it’s natural:
There are grain lines, and imperfections
There’s a greenish mess of moss seeping through

But you are dead. You give the world nothing.
You died long before I was born, but no one sees
You lost your way before you went neon –
You mean nothing to me.


I am dulled here: your inhabitants are grey, their thoughts beiged.
“Progress on all fronts,” the Trentonian says
I see twenty year-old temporary walls and people getting out
While they still can.


The Garden State is now full of weeds;
The idiot-consumer’s readymade plastic paradise

No-one can tell where you end and they begin.

No-one realises they are no different;
Trenton, I hate you, but you are unoriginal:
You look as supplanted from reality
As the idea that you lead this state, let alone provide for it.

Trenton Takes, The World Makes:
Responsibility has been outsourced.



II

I cannot stand to sit here like this.
I can remember when Jersey Tomatoes weren’t from Peru,
When I was happy to still call you home.

I traveled five hundred miles today to find
Just a little part of my youth;
I want to leave you and miss you,
Not leave to find you.

From the sky, you look just like spaghetti,
More tarmac than verdant heartland
But this is the heartland now –
In a country fully fueled by desire;
Sustenance is assumed, taken for granted.


Trentonians:

Do yourself a favour and pack your bags
Buy a ticket, get on this train,
Because this is all wrong.

Lay down on the road and wait
You’re driving to your own death.
And calling it progress.


Trenton Fakes, The World Ignores.

Optimist Blues

Optimist’s Blues

What can you feel for the world,
Living so short and knowing so few?
Happiness will come unfurled
If you let it get to you

I can’t stand to stay like this
Having company from just the walls
I’m not demanding true bliss
But it wouldn’t be remiss

I’m up in Lincoln, NH
My arm’s broken but I’m free
I wish I was camped there,
A place I can just be

I could spend all my days
Ambivalent to the world
In my canoe I could daze,
All comfortably in-curled

I can remember what B.B. said,
“The thrill is gone away for good”
The blues made sure my heart bled
Like you know it should

In the winter, snow fixes all;
A clean lace maternal sheet
It’s also my sometimes pall,
But much less discreet

I need to stay alive for long enough
To know I’ve made a smile always
This may turn out to be rough
But I’ll stay alive all the days
That I need to make a difference,
To know that person ain’t lyin’,
I will not stop tryin’, til
The day I die, and, pass on.

But I’ll be back to New Hampshire
To scare the shit out of you
My soul still camped there
Knowin’ I did what I was supposed to do…