Pen+Paper+Ryan Adams+Beer= This Crap

I don't really know what I want to call these yet. Crap I guess. Songs of some sort I think. Of course they still need work , a better voice than mine, and someone who can play guitar. Maybe a harmonica too. Yes, definitely a harmonica. There really isn't any story behind them. Well, there is but I don't want to tell you. I probably shouldn't be putting these up here. It's embarassing. I don't really know why I am. I guess I just felt compelled. I got a letter in the mail yesterday from my blog. It told me it was lonely and wanted to hang out sometime soon. It struck a nerve. I'm a sensitive man.

Ryan Adams has been running on a loop out my speakers and I've been sipping slowly on some Shiners for the last couple of hours. My pen and paper got too friendly in the process. This is what they made.


Landlocked

It's 2AM
the bar is closing down
doing murder to my soul.
I finish off my final beer
and tip the man goodnight.

I stumble out old wooden doors
onto a quiet, unlit street.
I can smell the salt of
the sea rolling into shore
on whitewashed waves.

I walk on barefoot to the beach-
left my shoes back at the bar again.
I feel the sand beneath my naked feet
and rub the rough grains between my toes.

I watch the waves and wonder
why they keep coming back.
"If I were yal I'd stay away forever"
I say out loud like they're listening.

I stand quietly,
Hands in empty pockets
Waiting with patience
for some response.

They answer back-
"Tide wont let us go, kid.
Just aint strong enough
to break that pull."

I smile politely
stand tall and breathe
feet still landlocked in the the sand

"Yeah," I say, "Me either..."



Beggars Wish

Man's a brokedown beggar
Man's a punch-drunk poet
Man's a love-sick boy
Pourin' outta lonely bars
Onto empty streets
In some strange place
that he don't belong.

"Man's a foreigner
without his friends,"
Man says as he stumbles
over two drunk feet.

He wishes he was the wind
weeping hard through
all the willow trees.
He'd blow his way across
the sea on a sailors' sail
Across the sky on some kids' kite.

He'll hitch a ride on the high hills
and blow his way back to you
Cause the wind aint the wind
Without you, my friend.

He'd touch your pretty face
Soft and quiet but not to bother
Just long enough to remember.
Then he'd blow back on his lonely way

But this will have to stay
a beggars wish
cause he aint the wind
and he aint got no friend

Man's just a brokedown
A beatdown
A broken-hearted
A beggar

Yeah, without his friend
Man's just a beggar