Monday, April 14, 2008

Pearl Harbor Day

(lyrics written on Dec. 7, 1995 after a huge disappointment)

it's five a.m. on a sunday morning-
haven't slept a wink but the day is dawning
and i feel the sunlight growing strong
and put another pot of coffee on

i see your name in the morning paper
and think it's strange how this feeling lingers
i run my hands across the page
and the newsprint comes off dark on my fingers

and it says "who? who's the joke on now?"

i don't mean to complain, i'm usually happy
i know where i stand, respecting the boundaries
but i feel like i just dropped the ball
and don't know where to go from here at all

when i turn on my tv
there's nothing on, just the usual pabulum
but i see how grand life could be
with money, good looks, and a team of well-paid writers

and they'd say "who? who's the joke on now?

i've often said dreams are like giants-
the bigger they are the harder they fall
and when your dreams come crashing down around your head like thunder
you can turn to me and i'll say nothing-- nothing at all

'found a new muse in the absence of tragedy
i put a fresh face on the background pain
took her up town on the morning train
by noon i was broke and on my own again

and she said
"who? who's the joke on now?"
"who? who's the joke on now?"
"who? who's the joke on now?"

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