Words & music © 2005, Josh Weinstein
Gather your stones, boys
Strike up the band
For her and
The man she thinks I am
No one can roll, boys
Like the two of them can
All my friends are on
The other side of town
Tipping stripper girls
Only crooks and swingers
Feel this kind of down
Gather your stones boys
Strike up the band
For her
And the man she thinks I am
No one can roll, boys
Like the two of them can
All my sins are gone
For good this time around
Burned like cheap cigars
If she knew me then
She would not want me now
Christ, if they could see me
Gather your stones, boys
Strike up the band.
For her
And the man she thinks I am
No one can roll, boys
Like the two of them can
Her and the man she thinks I am
Gather your stones, boys
Gather your stones, boys
Gather your stones, boys
Strike up the band.
Words & music ©2005 Josh Weinstein
Late in the evening
Shadows in the corner
That’s how it begins
Backseat of a taxi
Ankle in a pothole
Sweet soft salty skin
Missy likes it dirty
Watch her through the window
Telephoto lens
I’m stuck in the tall grass.
Stuck in the tall grass,
Stuck in the tall grass.
Beat it to the city
With mouthwash and razorblades
And a shirt for each offense
Lady on the corner
Candy with a hairdo
Windshield-wiper thin
Sons of other mothers
Verbicidal malcontents:
The last man standing wins.
I’m stuck in the tall grass.
Stuck in the tall grass
Stuck in the tall grass,
I’m knee-deep in concrete
Knee-deep in concrete.
Stuck in the tall grass.
Early in the morning
Shadows in the corner
Start to make some sense
Break it to me slowly
Spell it out in pictures
Backwards on my face.
I’ve got no angle
I’ve got no soul
I don’t know how this old song ends
Words & music © 2004 Josh Weinstein
Say you’re standing in a driveway
Half a mile from this place
Bottle in a bag
That’s your writing on the doorway
Remnants of your last disgrace
You’ve already been here two times today
Still you knock until your hand bleeds
Fog up every window pane
Calling out that woman’s name
Until you end up on a barstool
Half a mile from that place
Talking to a damned fool like me.
It’s the things you can’t be
Hit the heart like a bullet to the bone
All day long with your head against that phone and you get no answer
Meet the smallest man in Brooklyn
Thinks he should be famous
Thinks he’s smarter than the room
Little man you must be joking
Run and join the circus
We’ve already seen a hundred like you
Raise your glass up for the losers
Busters and lonely girls
Too uncool for school
Say you meet one on a barstool
Half a mile from his disgrace
Smile and wish him better luck next time
It’s the things you can’t be
Hit the heart like a bullet to the bone
All day long with your head against that phone and you get no answer
Here we are again
Living in between
Is and should have been
It’s the things you can’t be
Hit the heart like a bullet to the bone
All day long beat your head against that wall and that’s no answer
Here we are again
Living in between
What is and should have been.
Words & Music © 2004 Josh Weinstein
It’s light in the night up here.
Street light seems to only shine
On this bed of mine.
And these front row seats in this big top world
Have left me tired from the ride.
But listen to me
Listen to me
She like sugar in the morning
She like a saxophone
It’s true I was the only sad man in the state of California
And it’s true I was the first sad man in Washington DC
But listen to me:
I’ve got two strong hands and a young man’s back
And I’ve got nowhere I need to be
But listen to me
Listen to me this time:
She like sugar in the morning
She like a saxophone
She like sugar in the morning
She like a saxophone
Words, music & soundscaping © 2005 Josh Weinstein
Lonely men with cigarettes
Own this Friday town
(Laughs and throws one…)
Pave the sidewalks with regrets
(Leaves without a sound.)
Well screw the moon
Soon I’ll sing this song to you.
Roll me like a cigarette
Shake me like a bone
(Nods and heads for…)
That’s a feeling to forget
(Walks the stairs alone)
Well screw the moon
Soon I’ll sing this song to you.
Oh, in spite of me
I’ve turned a bend or two
Oh, don’t lie to me
I don’t belong
To you.
One part whiskey
Two parts gin
(fills it to the rim)
Well screw the moon
Soon I’ll sing this song to you.
Oh, in spite of me
I’ve earned a friend or two
Oh, don’t lie to me
I don’t belong.
Do you?
One part whiskey
Two parts gin
(fills it to the rim)
Well screw the moon
Soon I’ll sing this song to you.
So what and screw the moon
Soon I’ll sing this song to you.
Soon I’ll sing this song
To you.
Words & Music © 2005 Josh Weinstein
All I have is a five in my pocket
To see me through
All I have is a five in my pocket
That’ll have to do.
They turned off the telephone, the television and the news
They turned off my TV and the news
And now I think you’ve turned off on me too.
Every day is a new kind of trouble
And it never ends
Every day is a new kind of trouble
And it never ends
Looks like I am the lucky one again.
All I have is a five in my pocket
To see us through
All I have is a five in my pocket
Meet me down at Salchow’s on Eleventh Avenue
Meet me and I’ll split a glass with you
And we can talk it over me and you
We’ll talk until it’s over.
Words & Music ©2005 Josh Weinstein
Temptation rides unencumbered by fear
Impatient, I run the numbers and years:
It’s late and I can be bought for a beer.
And I have to know
Feel it for myself
I have to know.
October stands up and knocks down the door
Stone sober, I cannot stand any more
Soft strangers smile like they’ve seen me before.
And I have to know
Feel it for myself
I have to know.
Run with me naked and stinking of beer
Come with me, ride unencumbered.
You’ll find me stubborn and sunburnt to here.
And I have to know
Feel it for myself
I have to know.
Words & music © 2005 Josh Weinstein
South Boston
1987
Young black boy of 11
Stops to tie his shoe
When scared white men have a problem
They solve it with a tire iron.
Hubcaps and black boys in Boston
And baby me and you.
Baby, baby, the world’s gone crazy
Now I understand
Live with all the love you came with
Now I understand
Topeka
Skokie and Jasper
Bodies in the closet
And dragged along the ground
In houses of worship and barrooms
Warrooms
Scared white men verbigerate
Letters of love from Afghanistan
Arrive and life goes on
Baby, baby, the world’s gone crazy
Now I understand
Leave with all the peace you came with
Now I understand
Baby, baby, the world’s gone crazy
Now I understand
Live with all the love you came with
Now I understand
Baby, baby, the world’s gone crazy
Now I understand
Leave with all the peace you came with
Now I understand
Words & music ©2005 Josh Weinstein
She says kill me already
Mateme ya
Then she smiles like an ingénue
She’s a turtle in anger
Hard and round of back
I’m a stump-legged, glass-hearted boy
Drawn tight and black
Then from the next room
Cussing and screaming
Santa Maria
Put all the bags in the car
Brooklyn is sinking
We’ve been through this already
Around the block and back
Only the curtains are new
Drawn tight and black
Gasps from the next room
Cussing and screaming
Santa Maria
Take the glass from the shelves
There on the TV
Pointing and running
Crying and carrying on
Live from the top of the hill
Brooklyn is sinking
Then from the next room
Cussing and screaming
Santa maria
Put all the bags in the car
Murder and mayhem
News at 11
Jesu el cristo
Take all the hate from my heart
Brooklyn is sinking
Brooklyn is sinking
Brooklyn is sinking.
Words & Music ©2005 Josh Weinstein
Come back and sing me a sad song.
Magazine teens with ways and means
Jelly-headed hipsters
Movie-scream scenes in limousines
Souvenir sisters
Fingers on the phone
Leave that thing alone
Crazy, crazy
Rock and roll queens in tight blue jeans
And mister says he kissed her
But sure as the city gonna break a boy’s back,
break a boy’s back
Sure as a whisper gonna bring a boy back, bring a boy back
Downtown woman gonna eat the heart of a man
Goddamn.
Come back and sing us a sad song.
Ladies room stalls and alley walls
Miniskirts and tallow
Candles burn holes in hotel floors
Such is modern sorrow
Bruises on a bone
Leave that thing alone
And maybe, maybe
If it don’t rain on Lispenard
We’ll try again tomorrow
But sure as the city gonna break a boy’s back,
break a boy’s back
Sure as a whistle gonna bring a boy back, bring a boy back
Downtown woman gonna eat the heart of a man
Goddamn.
But just as sure as the city gonna break a boy’s back,
break a boy’s back
Sure as a whisper gonna bring a boy back, bring a boy back
Downtown woman gonna eat the heart of a man
But just as sure as the city gonna break a boy’s back,
break a boy’s back
Sure as a whimper gonna bring a boy back,
bring a boy back
Downtown woman gonna eat the heart of a man
Goddamn.
Goddamn.
Come back and sing me a sad song.
Words & music © 2005 Josh Weinstein
Don’t turn me on.
Comic strip clouds in a movie-blue sky
Like fingertips on windows
Set your ass down there for all the world to see
Don’t ask me how a minor cool can make a fool of me
Three-thirty
Comes and goes like ocean water
Other people’s troubles do not sing.
No matter.
What’s left on the page when the rest is erased?
Wait for it…
Wait for it:
Palimpsest and pentimento.
Canned answers.
Guilty-eyed denials and a joke.
Stop talking
I don’t want to hear about it
Skin and dreams is all we are today
Cool water
Washes half of all of us away
And that’s all I have to say.
Don’t turn me on.
Words & Music © 2005 Josh Weinstein
Red wine, friend of mine
Better steal yourself some time
We’ve got work to do.
Thought I could rely on common sense alone but I got it wrong.
Ran my mouth again and lost another friend;
yeah, that’s just like me.
Tell me how the hell I’ve been alive this long
And I don’t know right from wrong.
I reply with knee-jerk fireworks when grace would do.
And every time I think I’ve left myself behind,
there I go again
Falling back on fire
Falling back
Burned down Baltimore just to settle up a score:
Yeah, that sounds like me.
Falling back on fire
Falling back
(We’ve already been here)
As for the ghosts in my life
(There is danger in here)
I’ve known them most of my life
(The closer you are to me)
And the closer you are to me
The hotter I burn.
Red wine, friend of mine,
Better steal yourself some time.
