douglaskoke.com

[verse I]
Set me afloat on a delta of mud,
where the sun’s an inviolable gold.
Let me dangle my limbs in some coffee-vague strait,
un-assailed by the frictions of home.

Furlough my heart and its average loves,
all its bland and predictable feats.
Where everything’s known and expected and common,
its brilliance reserved for its grief.

[chorus]
Oh, come call me out to some dark, distant coast,
let me stretch out and wade from the shore.
Cradle my head and its stony displacement,
I can’t hold it up anymore.

[verse II]
Give me the river’s immovable surface,
come cushion my skin from the world.
Spare me these clues of attacks and caresses,
that ceaselessly pepper my nerves.

Quiet this bee-keeper buzz in my head,
ever milling ingenious mistakes.
Cast out this apple of shiftless red pity,
that curses my chest with its weight.

[bridge/alternate]
Capsize this vessel of shrewd self-abuses,
these appetites screaming neglect.
Drown every mutinous need I can’t sate,
watch them sink like a trunk full of bricks.

[chorus]
Oh, take me to town in a tumbledown rickshaw,
and pour my remains in a shot.
The proof of my stay, just a tip paid in coins,
to be spent in some bar and forgot.
Oh, come call me out to some dark, distant bay
where the junks glide in silence from shore.
Come offer your calm to this purposeless slob,
‘cause I don’t want to feel anymore.

[verse I]
On a knife-thrower's wheel,
wreathed in a silhouette of ire,
I will hang unscathed.

In a profiled rage,
clanging teeth around my lines;
I will still escape.

[chorus]
Stuck, accidentally brave
as the air sings, whistling its quick complaints
again.

[verse II.]
In a pinwheel's blaze,
with a showgirl spitting barbs,
I won't flinch away.

On a tightrope's braids,
shaking, prone to every slur;
I will not abate.

[chorus]
With accidental grace
taking pratfalls for a crony's pay
again.

[bridge]
But don't you feel lighter now
that you've flung all the steel in your head?
Pitching those hot-tongued knives
from the shadows at the end of my bed.
And doesn't it feel secure
when your target stays doting in place?
After all of your stings hit home,
they're cleaned and kitchened and kept far away.

[verse III.]
With a plane-ride's change,
single billing on the sign.
I won't be replaced.

With a spit-shined haze,
smaller costume, more risque`;
business stays the same.

[chorus]
An accidental graze
and I'm inclined to hide the scrapes
again.
As always, I'm to blame,
so bring your worst, I'll save your name
again.
So coolly take your aim,
your lover-boy gets sawed in half
again.

[intro / chorus]
And in these same gray waves
of the sound that left me crying.
In these same gray waves
of all the traumas you've incited.
In these same gray waves,
sways a hope that's faintly shining,
in the halo of that silvery good-bye.

[verse I]
Moon-wooed by the river,
wading out into the night,
while some ungraspable patina
stirs the surface, ill-reminded;
in all your flimsy luminescence,
I can't coax you from the brine
to calm the wake of your departure,
still alighted in my mind.

[bridge]
Oh, the pale sky gaped
to drown the shoals of these words
where her shallows wring disaster
and her tide maroons the nerves.
But the storm broke wide
and the tributaries churned
as my last tears washed away
this damaged, careless girl.

[verse II]
I bade the ghost
of Robert Johnson to play
some blues in "A",
to soothe this itch.
Some diving bell,
to hoist my yearnings up,
sing my return,
and free my breath.

[chorus]
Well, his strums cleaved the rain
and the delta shone with stars
and the gentled sea presented
mother-of-pearl for his guitar.
And the inlays gleamed,
but he could not slake the fear
he would not live to see their spangle
when his rescuers appeared.

[verse III]
So, we sang our hymns
to Miss Diminshed, "Oh.."
"Her love has sunk,
beneath these waves."
We cast our grief
upon the water.
It's time to leave
her, unashamed

[verse]
The clack of those heels, stinging like flames;
cutlery clicking; some holy soiree.
Sidle back slowly, snaking her waist,
canonized stilt-shoes, serpentine legs..

Looking like blaspheme, shining like faith,
jacked-up hemline, baptised my brain.
Breathing out blessings, baiting that chase,
banging that low-slung, sly dub-plate.

Slants and curves, swerve, making me believe.
Zapatista cocktail dress, so sleek.
Marionette, just tug on my strings.
And the wild mind mimeos, "Yes, ma'am". "Please,
please, please..."

[chorus]
Crawl.

[verse]
Gliding up the steps in a blissed-out spin,
spaghetti-strap flak-gun, leveling the din.
Powders, potions-- rising off skin,
ripple like gas fumes, sparking like flint.

Pushing through the cue; cover-charge waived.
"Wassup? Wassup?". "Step aside. Make way."
Working those name-drops, "Hey, DJ!",
her perfume harmonizing with the P.A.

Impresario of the dancehall,
proto-kitten, nymphet, stretching so tall.
Got her own gold star on the ladies' room stall,
yeah, and her name blazed fire when the
mic-check called.

[chorus]
Crawl.

[verse]
Something like an opera, something like a round,
pressing on the black keys, held the pedal down.
Reeling on a blue-note; tipsy on sound.
Lips paused above a wine glass, cooing out vowels.

Leaning like a safe-crack, whisper that sin,
sizzled in the bar-smoke, hissing in gin.
The unamazed mind, watching her win.
Eye meets the eye-- BOOM! --beat kicks in.

Guise is too sheer, game got too pall;
stockings roll; love-slave, chump-on-call.
Brushing past kneecaps, empires fall;
I used to walk head high, now I just crawl, crawl,
crawl.

[chorus]
Crawl.

[verse]
Third-tier celebrity's ousted crank;
show business' bastard son, lost to wander.
One notch up from hanger-on; the despot, expelled;
some sluggish promise interrupted, just slightly
squandered.

[bridge]
Yeah, I ditched the slim shine, love.
Short-changed the sharp mind, love.

Some spark, just sputtering in idle: defused.

[chorus]
Now, here I am, the man who nearly made it good.
Here I am, the one who almost didn't fall down.
The luckless dope who tripped himself in the last
minute stretch,now I'm the one that it's
a shame about.

[verse]
Waylaid in dump-town and wouldn't budge,
the hapless slave of a heart-sick swindle.
And nothing can resuscitate a man with a grudge,
consumed by each and every touch he cannot
rekindle.

[bridge]
Well, you called your shot blind, love.
Think you burnt your Miss Right, Doug.

Among the missing at Saint Andrews, take two.

[chorus]
So, here I am, the mook who murdered miracles.
Here I am, the punk who made the perfect one frown.
Here I am, the slob who won her brilliance,
just to cower and break
and pedal back, "The timing's shitty now".

And here I am, on fire to see her shoulders bare.
Here I am, in prayer to hear that sighing-girl sound.
Here I am, the man who'd bleed himself to a stone to
go backand kiss you anywhere I might have left out.

[vamp]
Ali at Andrews, come patch me through.
Alice at Andrews, come patch me through.
Ali at Andrews, come patch me through.
Alice at Andrews, come patch me through.