1. Late Afternoon on Town Lake
2. Silvery
3. So Glad to Meet You
4. Oh, Sweet Lightrail Nightcap
5. You Know Me Like I Know You
6. Tiger Caged in Mexico
7. Unwinding
8. The Dogs Yelling From Miles Away
9. One Last Round
10. June, Moon, Spoon
11. Gray Fedora

1. Where you gonna go? How you gonna get there? When's your next show and will anybody be there? I don't even know the reason that I came here. Where'd all the money go? Where's all the money? Who's it gonna be? Which way to the restroom? Negative three divided by the square root? You remember me. My feet were in the river and we were looking for the spot where the young man had drowned. Maybe everything is alright. I'm going for a walk. I wonder if she'll show up. It's up another block, hang a left at McClintock. Seven nights week, interest free. The only thing I've got left is a box full of pictures. When is the next flight? The nearest bar? She'll be late for the date, she locked her keys in the car. I've got it all worked out and written down. I know one other guy but he's in a bad part of town. Maybe everything is alright. Don't look now, should a train leave Seattle, you've gotta calculate how long it will take it travel all the way to San Diego at 80 MPH. What's going on this weekend? Are we on for the weekend? I'm out on the docks, I'm right above the waves, I'm right below the planes, and I'm right beside the trains, and the swallows live underneath a bridge that's pretty at night. It's so pretty at night. Well, what's the score? Are you under the weather? Are they together anymore or are they best friends forever? She's a Cleveland girl, but the only thing I want is a 1979 Ford Fairmont. We're out of gas! Can we stop in Ocotillo? At the Lazy Lizard? Can we stop at the casino? I know that you think that all I am is a mosquito and I'm sucking the blood out of everyone. Can I drink in your car? I'll play the clarinet. Why would anybody write the word 'aloof' on a cigarette? Which do you prefer, the candy corn or peppermint, because every Christmas I steal a Jesus. Maybe everything is alright. Tell me, isn't that your old university? Are you still working for insurance companies? God damn right! That is the university, but I don't pretend to attend anymore because time expires like apartment fires and the cherry blossoms in Washington D.C.

2. Waking up in Hollywood and heading back to San Diego. We walked around the neighborhood late last night. Took the elevator up and navigated fancy people. We met a man. He was a drunk. He called the girl a whore. Silvery, I've paid for all of my crime. It's hard to explain. No different but it's not the same, god damn. We had a building down the street that could fit a thousand people. Tonight I go to Ocean Beach and I'm telling know one. I wake and walk out to the yard. The sun is still behind the ocean. The days are dropping, dropping hard. "I'll see you later man," I heard a voice say. Silvery, I've paid for all of my crime. It's hard to explain. It's my favorite part of the brain, god damn. But I'm not hanging on to my disappointments. My disappointments aren't worth anything and I'll know my side streets when I drink and drive, god damn. Silvery, I've paid for all of my crime. It's hard to explain. A brother that takes the blame, god damn.

3. You've always got your arms around me. I've never seen this side of you before. A holiday man is fishing and caught a plastic bag from the shore. Read books about people's lives. I saw two men burn through their wives. I met a girl selling all her vintage clothes. The sun is breaking clouds. I had a friend that tried to explain that a sun breaking clouds could only be God himself. I tried swinging my baseball bat and tried to be such a diplomat. We launch our grapefruits high into the air. A full moon in the window of a loft apartment Christmas Eve. The american flag is shredded and lights are dropping like flies. Stolen ADATs, I'm sorry John. I know I've had these things too long. Take the mirror off the wall.

4. Oh lightrail nightcap. Sleeping in the yard. (Johnny's talking on the phone) Picking your poison. Oh lightrail nightcap. Let the party die. Oh lightrail nightcap. Satelite dishes. (Sam's sleeping on the couch) Liking your plain clothes. Oh lightrail nighcap. Say it to my face. (Hiding under covers, got my lovers climbing up in the trees, up my knees. and, "I know you're sorry", walking down the avenues, hiding beer bottles in our sleeves. Pet peeves and wishful thinking. Met him at a Circle K. Power's out? End the day here, past the pier. The bridge ain't finished. We can walk out over all the water (???????) Killing deer and I know. A hotel in Missouri, in a hurry, I got pillows and a parking spot in a parking lot and I'm crossing traffic. Johnny's at the table, got my cables all wrapped up and organized and it's more than I would do because I'm lazy. We got a little baggie in the drawer, hidden underneath the bible, and I'm liable, and the cleaning ladies will never know what hit 'em. We got rhythym. We got people on the coastline, and I fly back tomorrow night.)

5. I hear for blinded spies, birds only that I make lifted sky. Try, three-letter our cry. One better than if I could I would. Should try for four more five. Dumb luck still play live. We know clover. Now wows our moms and dads, stephanies, our brads. They buy us cool. And you know me like I know you, so why do I hide behind this wall of mine. Fell down want-wishing well, high water to hell. Thrown dead old men. When time gets drink and drive us gets sunk and dive. I've not lost hope. We kids are made of rope, nope, and shy-walk dope; ducks we let float. This, things to do on lists, wrists now wrapping up happy life stamp. And you know me like I know you so why do I hide behind this wall of mine.

6. Letting all the money go, see it flying free. People running after then running back to me to ask, "What's the deal?" He's flying to La Guardia, sleeping on a plane. A train to the terminal where will do the same I know. It always 'no'. Let me tell you about the tiger locked up in a box, killing for some conversation, a cigarette, and a shot. Watching from the rafters, hanging a sign. You need 30 other people here to have a good time and I'm not coming back here. We're sleeping in the park and now I gotta buy shoes. We carry on nothing so there's nothing to lose and I wait on the north curb. Why you throwing furniture into the hotel pool and feeding sports equipment to the tiger in the box?

7. More than anything else I got blood in my veins. The weekend went and the last of the paychecks came. There's a bird outside, he's asleep in the street. He's been lying in the gutter for a couple of weeks and the ants in his eyes go paralyzed when he speaks. I've been trying to unwind, and every step that I take is a gift. It's a walk in the park and I'm wondering if I'll survive. I'll survive. I'm saying my fairly-well to the fair Pacific with nothing between the lines, no, nothing specific. On every corner of every street there is a story of glory, of fight, or defeat and it's got nothing to do with you if you worked that week. I've been trying to be kind, but every step I take is a risk, it's a shot in the dark and I'm wondering if I'm alone. I'm alone. I've been trying to unwind, and every step that I take is a gift. I'm walking down Farmer wondering if I'm alive. I'm alive.

8. Here I am again; I can hear the dogs yelling from miles away. Why did I have to say everything I did. It's in a jar now and I can't close the lid. Down the empty street, I remember you taking off all of your clothes. Please don't leave. Stay here. Pour your voice into my ear. She'll stay the night, in morning's light, disappear. Here I am again; I'm on a boat and the ocean is all around, and up from the underground here it comes again, out of the water just to scare, just to stare me down. It never makes a sound. I wish I had you here but I'm a long walk and you're the shortest pier. This isn't how I wanted it to go. Please don't leave. Stay here. Pour your voice into my ear. She'll stay the night, in morning's light, disappear.

9. Tom's in the corner building a house of cards, I take a city walk and blow smoke to the stars and go. A year ago today it was an empty house. It was crying over words that were leaving her mouth. Oh no. It never really was that complicated. God damn, don't we appriciate it now. Every stripmall I see is renting out a memory and serving caffinated drinks to my sentimentality, but I'm okay. It's heading back home to buy one last round for the people that put the seeds in the ground to grow. That city's only pretty when you're flying in a plane. Gate 27 ate me, two years, today, you know. It never really was that complicated. God damn don't we appriciate it now. Every other house I pass, or alleyway full of trash, is a buried body under grass and a story I could tell. Oh well. It never really was that complicated. God damn don't we appriciate it now. The only real thing my thoughts became were a waste of breath. Should have swallowed my shame by now, so let's tally the points we've scored, sheath our verbal swords, keep up our ambition for the chance of a reward, but if there isn't one, I'm okay.

10. Barely here and now you're leaving, and everything is leaving with you. Maybe there's something that can keep me from believing that the best things are the first things to fall through my hands. I gave up on love, God above, and rock bands. The 805, it wasn't busy. The 163 was free and clear. Waiting for the alcohol to finally make us dizzy, there are arrows sticking out of us, my dear. And I don't know whether to hold on tight or to let it go. Now I'm back at this old address where I paint the walls when times are tough. I don't put much of my trust into the universe because the universe puts so much trust in us. What a shame, you're crying under the sun and I laugh at the rain.

11. On the 40 East, looking to rest a head, I slept below the price of gas instead of the car, after the bar. Awoke to the wind and the sound of the fields and the western Texas 18-wheelers; away from the day to day and my part in the play. I met a man in Memphis who was running away from a wedding and a fiance. He was 30 years old. I got him stoned in a Pay-N-Park off of Beale Street, at 3am, by the ledge, he said, "I don't know where I'll go. I don't know." Six stories up, off 4th Avenue. Sitting by the window, everybody but you is asleep. The night is deep. Staring straight down onto Union Square, you've got a gray fedora you are never gonna wear again. It's where you've been.