1. |
Cause For Concern
03:49
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Got no cause for concern,
at least not tonight.
Finally managed to lighten up
like an old vacancy sign.
Where I sit penning poems
or just shooting at cans.
Trading blood to the great unknown
from a wobbling bar bench.
Where I can weather anything, it seems.
got a sense that i don't belong
like a kite caught up a tree.
The waitress is kind,
if a bit overcast,
but I feel fine
at long last.
I wish I hadn't mouthed off
so I could call you tonight.
your man's on the jukebox here,
I imagine your surprise.
I might ask you to dance,
you used to tug at my arm.
And twirl like some strange machine
with so many intricate parts.
you'd always return back to me.
you got an unruly spirit kid,
you keep slipping out of reach.
The waitress is kind,
I know she wants to talk.
But for once, I
do not.
I wish I had the guts
to be more than just honest.
I don't really play the songs
I just hammer on them.
The waitress is kind,
she pours us a round.
And tells me about getting lost
and found.
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2. |
Smoke Signals
04:30
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|
She pines, the times,
have been dramatic.
Those smoke signals still rolling
off the hill
Down Sherman ave,
where she lights her cigarette.
It's been a while,
but she still got time to kill.
Every station plays
the same old static.
The backseat dreamers
drive to drinking songs.
Up the way,
well, I used to know a quiet place.
But someone had come and claimed it
while I was gone.
And from the corner bars to
the windowsill,
those distant stars,
little wishing wells.
She's wagging
a crooked finger
at the lord.
Saying I’ll get mine
when you get yours.
She pines
she pines, but it ain't no-one's fault.
There's just nothing here
for your kind after all.
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3. |
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Always biting my tongue.
Waiting for change.
Searing my lungs
another nicotine fix for that animal brain.
Chasing a dream
down a thousand yard stare.
Tapping my foot to the beat
I thought by now I’d be a millionaire,
but not every thought is well worth hearing.
Not every ache is a new f****** lyric.
Twenty something and overcast,
shouting at a flickering screen.
Thought there was a reason
thought I had a reason
shaking every hand that was reaching for me.
always late to the game.
The last one to leave.
Turning over a brand new page
when yesterday's I’d never dare to read.
Then racing off to the show.
Or Pacing the streets
glaring into a bottle
thinking I could see what no one else can see.
But not every vision is from on high.
Not every contradiction means I gotta' cross the line.
Twenty something and all used up.
Sober for the moment, at least.
I know every reason.
Never knew they were reasons.
Shrugged off every friend who was reaching for me.
Twisted minds can think alike sometimes,
but that don't mean that they mean well.
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4. |
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I shrug my shoulders at the new wave.
Drink a little in the day.
kick my feet up on a long chaise
sleep off everything I can.
Think I wound up in the wrong place
When I stole home base.
I never think about the long game
When I need a place to land.
It's all right to be bad sometimes
To get a little peace of mind.
There's a lightning on the water front.
A fire in the west.
And you, somewhere, I guess.
I take up arms against the new age,
smoke a little for the taste.
I only travel at my own pace,
stumbling down the barrio.
I’m always wearing such a long face.
Drifting out to space.
While Serpent charmers in a failed state
are playing on the radio.
It's all right to be bad sometimes
To get a little peace of mind.
There's a black out in the gallery.
A murmur in my chest.
And you, and I, I guess.
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Jory Avner Chicago, Illinois
Jory Avner is a singer-songwriter based out of Chicago, Illinois. By blending highly stylized lyricism and guitar with synth/rock soundscapes, he strives to create an atmosphere that is deeply textured, thought-provoking, introspective, and yet succinct in terms of narratives. ... more
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