SET 1 (The Life of St. Sinner)
Summer, February, 2014
1. The days are hot and the nights are long;
which is exactly what you would think that we’d all want.
But as the summer dragged on it didn’t seem so dreamy–
I got on your nerves and you got bored and mean.
2. By the fourth of July it reached a fever pitch:
you called me drunk and useless
and I called you a (something I regret).
To avoid more fireworks, you took a trip with some friends.
I stayed behind and went on a three day binge.
I was hoping for an endless summer;
now I’m just looking for a place to land.
I’m as high as a kite and I might have just cut my string.
There’s a fine line between freedom
and free floating in the wind.
And I’m wondering if I can ever make it back again.
Am I the only one who wishes summer would end?
3. Wake at noon and it all comes back:
the smell of suntan lotion and the sweet taste of regret.
Why am I wired to betray everyone I love?
I’m a ticking bomb– get too close and I’ll blow both of us up.
I was hoping for an endless summer;
now I’m just looking for a place to land.
I’m as high as a kite and I might have just cut my string.
There’s a fine line between freedom
and free floating in the wind.
And I’m wondering if I can ever make it back again.
Am I the only one who wishes summer would end?
If I survive this sweltering summer
and make it through another fall.
I’ll wait out the winter and joke that I’ve been through hell.
But it’s no joke. The way I’m headed
I’ll be a broken, empty man–
drift away like the summer sand.
Am I the only one who wishes summer would end?
Am I the only one who wishes?
Am I the only one
who was hoping for an endless summer?
Now I’m just looking for a place to land.
I’m as high as a kite and I might have just cut my string.
There’s a fine line between freedom
and free floating in the wind.
And I’m wondering if I can ever make it back again.
Am I the only one who wishes summer would end?
Sinking Like a Stone, December 6, 2016
1. We all want to be loved;
we’re afraid to be alone.
We offer up our souls,
but still it’s not enough.
Our need, it only grows.
We’re terrified
of being left alone
with nothing but this hole:
Sinking like a stone.
2. We all want to be loved,
but we’re afraid of being known.
Naked and exposed,
we’ll always hide ourselves.
So don’t get too close;
the intimacy’s too much.
We’re vulnerable to touch;
it opens wide the soul:
Sinking like a stone.
3. We all want to be loved;
‘cause we’re afraid we’ll disappear.
Love, and pain, and fear
are better than nothing at all.
We all feel the void.
We’re all hanging on
for dear life, lest we fall
into those dark jaws:
Sinking like a stone.
4. We all want to be loved,
But we’re afraid…
The Year of My Fall, April 2018
1a. I was born to soon.
It was all brand new.
I’ve had to make it up as I go.
But I found my way
and I found my place
and I found some joy in it all.
1b. I was born again;
don’t know exactly when,
but I know my heart was strangely warmed.
Lived a life of grace–
at least it felt that way–
but then the whole damn thing came crashing down to the ground.
Did Satan ask the Lord to sift my soul?
Take everything away from me, like Job?
I’m not one to question God,
but I liked how things were before…
the year of my fall.
2. I remember how
I thought I had it all.
Maybe I did, but now I’ll never know.
Lightning struck me twice,
then it became my life.
Who I was before, I can barely recall.
Cradling my head in empty hands;
the facts are clear, but I still don’t understand
how I had so much, but somehow managed to lose it all
in the year of my fall.
3. In a twist of fate,
I would die too late
to be spared the pain of it all.
I do what I can
with the days I have
and try not to dwell on what’s lost.
Where the river runs nobody knows.
The current sweeps us on in its blind force.
There’s no going back; there’s only hope I’ll survive at all…
Does fate or grace or karma guide me now?
Or is it just dumb luck and nothing more?
I’m praying for some mercy in the years that lie beyond.
I’m pleading for some mercy in the years that lie beyond.
I’m begging for some mercy in the years that lie beyond
the year of my fall.
Hammer on Wood, May 28, 2016 (premiere)
1. Stop checking your phone.
No one’s gonna call anymore.
You know you’re alone
when no one answers
when you’re talking to yourself.
2. But what would you say?
You got what you deserve anyway.
You got what you gave:
an empty heart and an early bed (or early grave).
3. You took what you could;
packed your memories–some of them good.
Like hammer on wood it’s ringing
true and loud and hollow.
4. Stop checking your mail;
that endless binary sea but nobody’s there.
You pull in your sails.
You drift away, just drift away,
5. just close your eyes,
just close your eyes. This is your life.
Is this your life?
Or has it all been dreaming?
6. Have I been awake?
Or have I been sleeping?
Awake, asleep:
Always dreaming.
7. Just close your eyes.
Just close your eyes. This is your life.
Is this your life?
Or has it all been dreaming?
8. Stop checking your phone.
No one’s gonna call anymore.
You know you’re alone.
You know you’re alone.
The Day that I Gave In, November 18, 2021
1. The day that I gave in
was the day my life began.
Resignation filled my soul,
I felt relief I’d never known,
the day that I gave in.
I surrendered to the flow.
though I didn’t know how to swim,
but I learned how to drown,
let the riptide drag me down,
the day that I gave in.
2. Well, I’d never felt so free
as when I learned I couldn’t win.
With so many ways to lose,
there was no more need to choose,
so why not just give in?
The day that I gave in
I shrugged my shoulders of their weight
I felt as light as wind.
All my anger fell away
as my ambition dissipated
and I was born again.
The day that I gave in.
3. I learned to let it go–
unclenched my tired hands.
Gave up the need for control
and the need for something more,
the day that I gave in.
I prayed to be serene
about the things I couldn’t change.
The answer to my prayer
is that I no longer care.
The day that I gave in.
Nothing will ever change.
Nothing will ever change.
Nothing will ever change.
4. Like a phoenix in reverse,
I lit a match and threw it in.
I watched it all burn down.
I played my violin
on the day that I gave in.
I watched it all burn down;
felt the fire warm my skin.
I know what I know now
and I’d do it all again.
‘Cause I’d know how it would end–
just like it all began.
It will always be the same:
there will always be the day,
the day that I gave in.
Die Alone, October 5, 2016
1. We’re all going to die alone; hallelujah!
Been that way since we were born; hallelujah!
Everyone’s hoping for a home; hallelujah!
Someone we can call our own; hallelujah!
2. Everybody’s looking for a friend; hallelujah!
But we’re terrified to let them in; hallelujah!
If they knew what’s in our heart and head; hallelujah!
They’d leave us on our own again; hallelujah!
All our lives are spent chasing the wind,
but it’s the wind that catches us in the end.
Bones and memories turn to dust
and another generation only coughs.
Is that enough?
Is that enough?
Is that enough?
Is that enough?
3. Spend our days wondering what we did; hallelujah!
To deserve all this; hallelujah!
But we’ve spent our years collecting sins; hallelujah!
Maybe that’s why it’s come to this; hallelujah!
4. We all know that we’re going to die; hallelujah!
We just don’t know how and we don’t know when.
Monster, 2022 (premiere)
Who could love this thing I’ve become?
Who could love this thing?
1. Behold the monstrous beast
as it lies there, sleeping.
Don’t wake it from its dreams;
don’t disturb its slumber.
For when it wakes it eats
and its ravenous power
knows no pity.
It knows only hunger
and the lust to devour.
2. It was born to life like you–
wet and crying.
On its mother’s breast was soothed
and it soon was sleeping.
But when it woke it knew
hunger and longing,
which grew, which consumed,
and could never be sated.
It transformed to hatred.
Who could love this thing I’ve become?
Who could love this monster?
When will it awake?
What will it devour?
It takes and takes and takes
but no one knows the hour.
Only a fool would try to tame
such a heartless creature.
Run away, run away, run away!
For if you’re in reach
your heart may be its next feeding.
Who could love this thing I’ve become?
Who could love this monster?
This monster.
Who could love this thing I’ve become?
Who could love what I’m becoming?
Who could love this thing I’ve become?
Who could love this monster?
SET 2 (St. Sinner for Lovers)
We’re Holding On, 2018
1. Raindrops explode and combine;
they stream down windowpanes in the night.
Cars pass in brief bursts of light;
shine like stars falling from night skies.
We’re holding on for dear life.
2. Warm breath, exhaled, intertwined;
this breath is it yours? Is it mine?
Can two hearts resonate, synchronize?
As the universe keeps time,
We’re holding on for dear life.
This night will never end.
Love, December, 2018
1. Steve says that I’m not in love:
“It’s too soon— blah, blah, blah…”
But I didn’t listen to a word he said.
Maybe I will never learn
the thousand ways that love can hurt you,
but I’d rather die learning than live just avoiding the pain.
So I’m jumping back in it.
Love—could anyone hope for more than
love?—Isn’t it all we want?
Love—who wouldn’t give it all for love?
2. Lovers have come and lovers have gone;
they’ve spilled their ink and they’ve sung their songs.
God only knows I’m not the first one to feel this way.
Love, from a distance, is cool and remote
like the moon seen through a telescope.
But now I’m in your orbit, under your sway.
And I can’t get away from
Love— could anyone hope for more than
love?— Isn’t it all we want?
Love— who wouldn’t give it all for love?
3. Does the world need another love song
with the hopeful lift of ii, V, I chords
and a “love, love, love” that comes back again and again?
We might get tired of the same refrain,
the pop cliches, deceptive cadences,
but we all hope we’ll find love that never ends.
And so we keep singing:
Love— could anyone hope for more than
love?—Isn’t it all we want?
Love— who wouldn’t give it all for love?
Love, love, love…
Who wouldn’t give it all for love?
An Ocean (Prayer to St. Patrick), February 4, 2014
1. Do you remember
the night we fell in love?
We were closer than a kiss,
pressing hip to hip,
and I said, “I can’t…
I just can’t get enough.”
We were drinking
to St. Patrick and our love.
I said, “God bless the holy saint
of water and of drink!”
And you laughed, “Maybe…
maybe you’ve had enough.”
2. This year
your kiss was quick, my drink was long.
Do I think another round
will finally drown
this feeling
that we’ve been two
islands all along?
There’s an ocean; an ocean;
There’s an ocean; an ocean;
There’s an ocean between me
and my love.
3. St. Patrick,
you sailed the sea to set sinners free.
If ever there was a soul
adrift and alone,
St. Patrick,
it is me.
There’s an ocean; an ocean;
There’s an ocean; an ocean;
There’s an ocean between me
and everyone I love.
Jesus Christ, I need a miracle:
like water into wine, or life for Lazarus.
‘Cause all I have now is the party trick
of turning beer into piss.
And I can’t…
I just can’t get enough.
Never Perfect, 2018
1. St. Valentine,
can you share a little wisdom?
You were chaste, but love’s your business.
It’s your day, but it’s my daily burden.
My love and I, we have our holiday traditions,
like the way we ruin Christmas
and anniversaries
over stupid things like the dishes.
It’s never perfect.
2. St Valentine,
Do you take prayers from weary lovers
who aren’t looking for another, but wonder
how they turned into business partners or brothers?
Why does love seem so perfect at a distance?
Does the consummation kill it?
Wondering if it’s worth it,
when it’s never perfect.
It’s never perfect.
3. St. Valentine,
you were a saint, but I’m sinner.
I pray the pain of love won’t kill me,
but I’m afraid that prayer’s not working.
It’s never perfect.
Toothpaste, February 14, 2014
- Have you lost faith?
Have you lost heart?
Has what is left grown tired and hard?
Has it been hard?
Has it been long?
Has it been going on and on?
Would it kill you
to not treat the toothpaste
like something you were trying to strangle?
- Has it gone too far?
Has it gone too wrong?
Has it just worn you down?
Are you left with rage
when all your love is gone?
Are you left with nothing left at all?
Would it kill you
to not treat the toothpaste
like something you were trying to strangle?
Are you left with nothing left at all?
Goodbye, 2022 (premiere)
- Just because you’d had enough
doesn’t mean it was never love.
It doesn’t mean those years are lost—
just fodder for the flames.
We were young and eager and had no idea
all the grief and change that would come with years,
or the wounds we couldn’t wash with tears,
and the words we’d never find to say:
- I’m sorry I could never be
everything you ever needed.
I’m sorry that you felt so cheated,
but just had to carry on.
I’m not as bad as you make me seem
and I’m not as good as I’d like to be.
I’ll talk it through in therapy
and work it out in songs that mean
Goodbye.
3. Maybe the anger can get you through
the doubts, the grief, the hole in you.
The whole thing gets so hard to do
that the rage feels like a friend.
But eventually the well runs dry,
the grief and anger satisfied.
The rage you felt, the tears you cried
are just another way to say
Goodbye.
- We tried, we failed, we found our freedom;
I hope it all can be redeemed.
I pray that you will find your peace
now that we’ve run out of ways to say
Goodbye.
We tried, we failed, we found our freedom;
I hope it all can be redeemed.
I pray that you will find your peace
now that we’ve run out of ways to say