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Subterranean homesick-er blues.

cookie-cutter houses lined up like tombstones
thousands of dead souls poured into brownstones
they keep calling me but i don’t have a telephone
feet up eat up gotta stay in the zone
i’m in the basement shooting up acetone
diggin through the garbage and chewing on soupbones
they’re outside with their polyphonic ringtones
uptight all right drowning in bad loans

get up go to work try to make headway
leave work come home try again another day
i’m on my knees wishing i knew how to pray
save face rat race watch the color bleed away
coffee can soldiers cooking up a survey
smiling at the ladies, showing off their tooth decay
no more black and white nothing left but dull grey
so long i’m gone what more can i say?

This is a jazz-style “verse” I’ve taken to singing in front of “Hey Beautiful,” most notably on the live disc that’s finally going to see some kind of release this year.

why do you have to go?
we’re only just getting started
shouldn’t it matter i’m so
terribly broken-hearted?

doesn’t it even upset you
to see me crying like this?
go if you must, but don’t you forget to
leave me with one final lingering kiss…

Not sure what to do with this one… I keep getting stuck right after the last line there. Somewhere in the mess that is my mind is a third verse. If I can come up with it, I’ll add it here.

you can look but you can’t touch
you can want her but not too much
she lives alone in a castle made of snow
where no-one dares to go
where love cannot grow

you can try but it’s no use
you can’t shake the shackles loose
she stands alone weighted down by chains of steel
unsure of what’s real
too far gone to feel

countless men before you they have tried to breach the gates
they have taken lives and sundered states
and countless men before you they have died for the cause
hearts ripped out by razor claws

late at night in the pale moonlight
with only the pain to remind you
you lie awake and with each breath you take
you wonder will love ever find you

One from the vaults, inspired by a couple of photos — one where Jen and I look like, you guessed it, John and Yoko, and another we took flopped on a bed in the old place. Don’t worry. Clothes were on.

have you noticed it’s getting colder
the days are getting shorter
winter’s almost here
so cuddle up my dear
we’ve had our share of grief, babe
but now there’s just relief, babe
i’m so proud to say
this time i’m here to stay

nothing worth having don’t make you work to get it
nothing worth remembering will ever let you forget it

let’s bite our thumbs at the weather
why don’t we curl up together
we won’t make a fuss
a little snow won’t bother us
who knows where those clouds are headin’?
it’s a perfect night for a bed-in
we’ll put our PJs on
you be yoko, i’ll be john

nothing worth having don’t make you work to get it
nothing worth remembering will ever let you forget it
nothing’s gonna get us out of bed if we don’t let it

the forces of the world will try to split us from each other
but we will swear that we won’t let them pit us one against the other

This one is a chunk of a bigger piece I started writing and then threw out. Funny, but too clever-clever by half.

i know the may-december thing
was cause for much concern
but i can’t help remembering
how hot december fires burned
was i an object of your lust?
a soon-to-be-discarded toy?
or did you need a man and not just
a borderline emotion’ly retarded boy?

Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the future of pop music in 2008.

Tokio Hotel - Monsoon

This epic bad boy from Love and Marine Biology clocks in at over seven minutes long.

The first section — the part before the endless repetition of “It’ll work out / It’s gotta work out” — lasts much longer, of course, than 34 seconds… But it sure doesn’t feel that way.

Sunlight, I need a little help.
Can you shine on me another day?
Sunlight, I’ve got a favor to ask.
I need one more day to be with her by her side.
All I need’s another day!

It’ll work out. I’ve got a feeling that it’ll work out.
It would be sad if things didn’t work out.
Someday soon we’ll be together.

Sunlight! Are you listening to me?
I don’t want much. All I need I can get
from her loving kiss.

It’ll work out. I’ve got a feeling that it’ll work out.
It would be sad if things didn’t work out.
Someday soon we’ll be together.

It’ll work out. It’s got to work out.
It’ll work out. It’s got to work out.
It’ll work out. It’s got to work out.
It’ll work out. It’s got to work out.

What do they say in the movies? This one from Love and Marine Biology was “based on true events”.

Or at least the first sentence was.

I went down to Stanley Park.
I saw the snow on the mountains,
but as I looked out on the dirty harbor
I couldn’t help but think,
“Which way to the ocean?”

I visited the tanks.
I saw the whales and the dolphins,
but as I looked into the eyes of the biggest one,
I thought I heard her say,
“Which way to the ocean? Which way to the ocean?

I want to swim up to Alaska.
I want to play in the Sea of Japan,
and now it looks like I might never get the chance again.”

I knew what to do.
I dove in on a mission,
and as I swung the gate wide open
I swam aside and said,
“This way to the ocean. This way to the ocean!”

In honor of Valentine’s Day, here’s “Your Heart and Mine,” from Love and Marine Biology.

“Cupid’s laughing his last one on me” — my favorite line on the album.

Forgive the intrusion, but I’ve reached a conclusion.
I’m alleging collusion between your heart and mine.
I was minding my business when your heart the temptress
came dressed up in sweetness, and mine fell into line.
Then all of sudden everything changed.
My common sense up and left me alone.
My priorities somehow got rearranged.
It was like my heart had a mind of its own.
There’s no explanation for my tribulation
but premeditation between your heart and mine.
Then all of sudden everything changed.
Your heart pulled a fast one on me.
My priorities somehow got rearranged.
Cupid’s laughing his last one on me.
There’s no explanation for my tribulation
but premeditation between your heart and mine.

 This song from Love and Marine Biology is so codependent that I feel like I should license it to Al-Anon.

I’ve always liked the wordplay — especially the fact that I worked allusions to Shakespeare and Iggy and the Stooges into the same song — but it hurts me to read it.

I try and try and try to make you love me.
I sacrifice without a second thought.
I tell myself you’re thinking fondly of me,
even though I know you’re probably not.

I labor sadly unappreciated,
doing things I know I shouldn’t do,
but until my inner masochist is sated
I’d prefer to get my punishment from you.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to be a pity-hog.
Truth is I’m happy when I’m down.
I want to be your stooge, I want to be your dog.
Don’t hesitate to throw my heart around.

I’d profess my love from atop the highest hill.
I’d write your name up in the sky.
I’d recite “What light?” beneath your windowsill:
anything, my girl, to catch your eye.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to be a pity-hog.
Truth is I’m happy when I’m down.
I want to be your stooge, I want to be your dog.
Don’t hesitate to throw my heart around.
Feel free to spread the word all over town:
I’m at my happiest when I’m down.