NO CITY FUN
Visions come and visions go
dreams live on in boys named Joe
it’s no time to go betting on the band
you stand alone with your body bright
caught in the glare of the selfish light
bad credit has got you in a jam
Why even try
when there’s no city fun
the night sun
Nothing gets me down like watching you lose
nothing brings me down like watching you live like a bruise
in the blur of the traffic
between the grains of static
I can see you move
Why even try
when there’s no city fun
the night sun
I sit here and think
about what I want
I sit here and think
I just want to be here with you
but the wait of the world
never felt like so much
and why even try
when there’s no city fun
Night sun sits upon the dash
night sun shines to spite the trash
night sun is getting in the van
night sun gives vanilla glow
night sun fills a tiny hole
night sun is rock and roll
the night sun
IF MONDAY WE’RE MINE
(for Kyle Swanson)
I hear your heart is working overtime
I hear your heart is doing fine
was god great and did she almost sigh
when she saw you at the light?
Straight to the bottom
straight to the bottom again
straight to the bottom
straight to the bottom again
I wouldn’t mine Sunday
if Monday were Mine
I wouldn’t mind fighting
if we weren’t fighting all the time
I wouldn’t mind dying
if we could do this again
I wouldn’t mind crying
if we could shed this salty skin
Always waiting for the next denial
you’re so at home with these grown up smiles
we watch and wait for the next one to arrive
through jack-o’-lantern eyes
Straight to the bottom
straight to the bottom again
straight to the bottom
straight to the bottom again
I wouldn’t mine Sunday
if Monday were Mine
I wouldn’t mind fighting
if we weren’t fighting all the time
I wouldn’t mind dying
if we could do this again
I wouldn’t mind crying
if we could shed this salty skin
All they say and all they buy
won’t explain this endless trial
underground and undermined
mercy will come and love will spiral
Straight to the bottom
straight to the bottom again
straight to the bottom
straight to the bottom again
I wouldn’t mine Sunday
if Monday were Mine
I wouldn’t mind fighting
if we weren’t fighting all the time
I wouldn’t mind dying
if we could do this again
I wouldn’t mind crying
if we could shed this salty skin
CAPITALIST RIOT
My great grand-dad
was born in number eleven
he worked for the mines
and the pennies of heaven
he is buried in the land of his worth
six feet under coal company dirt
from his proud line, I trace my birth
this capitalist riot
you know it hurts
My grandfather knew Dick Fitzsimmons
they called him “Red”
when the Teamsters were winning
Red, he died of a famous disease
the company denied responsibility
from his proud line, I trace my birth
this capitalist riot
you know it hurts
I have watched the women of my kin die
full of morphine, steel, and barium dye
women of courage, strength and grace
cut to the quick by these radium days
from their proud line, I trace my birth
this capitalist riot
you know it hurts
In cotton, denim, silk and rayon
through Frank Sinatra, Elvis and Dion
your genes beget you
your dreams forget you
but money always matters
I don’t come from the city
or from deep on the spindle
it’s no mystery
I come from the middle
but you’re in my head now
you’re in my soul now
you’re in my blood now
and I’m afraid
I’m afraid
from their proud line, I trace my birth
this capitalist riot
you know it hurts
LONELINESS IS MURDER
Springtime comes and nursing home windows
are cracked to let in resistant sun
rolling down the hallway
holding on to the handrail
looking for a fight, a word, a touch
just as she promised
up comes the flowers
up through the ground, so thirsty
Loneliness is murder
The quick and the dead
are hanging on to videos
and faint suggestions of a whisper
cold war survivors wrestle with their exile
break their teeth on bones I’ll never know
Loneliness is muder
People get guns because they’re lonely
people get guns because they’re lonely
people get guns because they’re lonely
because I’m lonely
we’re all lonely
it’s murder
“Get well soon,” reads the foil baloon
taped to the box that holds your ashes
I’m wearing your shoes
counting your moons
I’m so tired of sleeping
and living without you is just murder
it’s murder
DIRTY WEATHER
“Pain is in the forecast”
is that what he just said?
“armies have amassed at my border”
is that what she just read?
everything is covered
in a thin layer of broadcast light
dirty weather
sunlight is a station
I never seem to get in
all I get is talk shows
interviews with original sin
in the morning it will be there
as sure as midnight
dirty weather
there’s decay on the radar
and trouble on the wind
you can hold it like a cigarette
inhale and draw it in
you know that the angels
can only fly so fast
in dirty weather
BABY KISSES
You’re beautiful
you’re hot to the touch
I’m good with words
and I can take a punch
let’s get us a slogan
steal us a bus
criss cross the country
take them out to lunch
We oughta run
You can make an entrance
I can get out fast
you’re good with slander
I’m good at taking out the trash
you can talk about the future
I can dig up the past
you will feel their pain
I will make it last
We oughta run
In the 50 states
in the dresser drawers
lie a million dreams
sleep a million wars
on the shopping mall streets
alone in a stall
in between the sheets
picture them all
We oughta run
IN REMEMBRANCE OF HER
I should have seen it coming
I should have seen it in the wings
I should have seen it die in the coal mine
I should have felt it on the breeze
Into my room of a sinner’s toil
my lover came to me
upon my head she annointed oil
with her black hair she washed my feet
But her eyes
they don’t even wait for night
they don’t even wait for life
How far will your love go?
A brother’s kiss and a police car
beyond this stone I am interred
but every night I say my prayers
in remembrance of her
But her eyes
they don’t even wait for night
they don’t even wait for life
How far will your love go?
I’ll drink your full moon blood
I’ll sweep up your dustbowl dreams
I’ll betray Mary’s son
with a kiss beneath the sheets
How far will your love go?
COLD WAR
You tear me down in stereo
You turn me on and then you leave me low
You can rock and roll yourself into the grave
maybe tomorrow but not today
it’s a shame
that you feel this way
Two plus two equals four
still you want just a little more
you can walk all over my floor
mercy rules, your win so cruel
You’re so cold war
You’re so atomic bomb
You’re banging shoes
You’re slamming doors
You’re so cold war
Lover please
you’re taking down diplomacy
you’re taking down my Christmas tree
you’re taking down the Mercury
you’re taking down, bye-bye
You’re so cold war
You’re so atomic bomb
You’re banging shoes
You’re slamming doors
You’re so cold war
OVER THE GUN
Threats, vacant building eyesore
walking through my mind’s door
hanging around like a White House whore
debts, piling up like widows
the dark grey smoke just billows
up through the basement floor
You ask me if I’m having fun
while you’re looking down the barrel over the gun
you say you’ll come home
when you’re good and done
looking down the barrel over the gun
Your dress, stretched across the mattress
like a fashion mag disasteress
waiting for his approving snore
caress, we set our clocks by bleeding
while the bovine hearts keep beating
driving blood down this mortal coil
You ask me if I’m having fun
while you’re looking down the barrel over the gun
you say you’ll come home
when you’re good and done
looking down the barrel over the gun
You fuck me up
you fuck me down
you tell me it’s flat
when I know that it’s round
and that’s no way to treat an empire as it falls
you say it’s ok, as you watch it swell
you say it’s heaven
when I know that it’s hell
just as the radio dies when the engine starts to stall
Success, slipping through my fingers
like a dead man’s hand on his trigger
waiting for the final score
duress, watching the collectors
drowning like defectors
washing up on Florida’s shore
You ask me if I’m having fun
while you’re looking down the barrel over the gun
you say you’ll come home
when you’re good and done
looking down the barrel over the gun
FINGERNAIL MOON
(for Michael Miller)
Dad floats on the lake
and dreams of the China Sea
and in the stars he sees a million sparks
he thinks of all the people
that he once knew
he holds their memories beneath his skin
to each he sends his love
from each come his dreams
Fingernail moon
will this storm blow over?
did we lie in Brigadoon
is that why we’re older?
Two lovers on the beach
trying so hard to speak
all the words the walls never let them say
there’s a child in the stars
just waiting on their call
she falls asleep
she says, “sometimes I don’t know if God even knows my name”
someday soon she will come
someday soon is in your womb
Fingernail moon
look over your shoulder
did we lie in Brigadoon
is that why we’re older?
all songs © 2001 American Mars