Category Archives: acoustic

Another Dead Soldier (in My War on Alcohol)

My war on alcohol

Okay… as promised, here’s a song that recombines verses from yesterday’s Blue Recollection with a similarly themed set of lyrics.

(And there’s yet another song that incorporates some of the lyrics from this song — but it won’t likely be in AYoS because of a significant f-word problem — it’s in the title, it’s in the chorus. Mumbling won’t help. But, anyhow, that one’s a love song.)

ANOTHER DEAD SOLDIER (IN THE WAR ON ALCOHOL)

Woke up this morning
wondering about last night
kinda think I coulda took some drink
but my memory just don’t serve me right

Now the last thing I remember
You were walking out the door
My hand reached for the bottle
and then there ain’t no more

Just another dead soldier
in the war on alcohol
put him with his brothers
line ’em up against the wall

Just another dead soldier
in my war on alcohol
I won’t be satisfied
til I’ve killed them all

I lay awake at night, baby
but it ain’t because of you
I’m just listening to the plaster crack
and the clock tick in the next guy’s room

You’re just a blue recollection
but that ain’t nothing new
I’m gonna drown than memory
it’ll be the last thing I do

Blue Recollection

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My hand reached for the bottle...
I wake up at nite
but it ain’t because of you
Oh yeah I wake up at nite
but it sure ain’t because of you
I’m just listening to the plaster crack
and the clock tick in the next guy’s room

Ran that through the Babelfish translator and came up with this:

Despierto en la noche pero no está debido a usted.
Oh, sí. Despierto en la noche, pero no está seguramente debido a usted.
Soy el escuchar justo la grieta del yeso y el impulso del
reloj en el cuarto del individuo siguiente.

Which translated back to this:

Wide-awake at night but it is not due to you.
Oh, yes. Wide-awake at night, but it is not surely due to you.
I am right to listen the crack of plaster and the impulse of the clock
in the quarter of the following individual.

[Okay, okay. I know this smacks of being a cheap shot to not have to write anything. So?]

Tomorrow or the next day I should be posting a song that was the result of grafting these lyrics to another short set of similarly themed lyrics (hey, that’s about 30% of my oeuvre, ya’ know?)… in the name of efficiency, as much as anything. I’m a database guy. We hate unnecessary redundancy…

BLUE RECOLLECTION

Now the last thing I remember
You were walking out the door
Yes the last thing I remember
You were walking out that door
My hand reached for the bottle
then there ain’t no more

you’re just a blue recollection
I swear that ain’t nothin’ new
I been having trouble forgetting
to remember that I don’t love you

I wake up at nite
but it ain’t because of you
Oh yeah I wake up at nite
but it sure ain’t because of you
I’m just listening to the plaster crack
and the clock tick in the next guy’s room

you’re just a blue recollection
I swear that ain’t nothin’ new
I been having trouble forgetting
to remember that I don’t love you

Now the last thing I remember
You were walking out the door
Yes the last thing I remember
You were walking out that door
My hand reached for the bottle
then there ain’t no more…

Stood Up to Your Love

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Stood Up to Your Love

Though totally different in musical feel, today’s song mirrors yesterday’s in some ways. The music is darkly funky (or aspires to be) but the lyrics are a bit self-consciously grim.

If yesterday’s “Hasta” (below) had a bit of playful, if sardonic whimsy, “Stood Up” is decidedly darker and meaner.

There’s a nastiness to lines like “If this is the best love you can shove into my face…” that might give a clue as to why I have sometimes been known as the Bard of Bitterness, Denial, and Regret. Like you were wondering…

I STOOD UP TO YOUR LOVE

ya said its hard to love you
and I useta find that true
but now its impossible
no matter what I do (but)

I stood up to your love
I stood up like a man
I gave and gave and gave
until I didn’t give a damn

if this is the best love
ya can shove into my face
maybe you should save it
cause I seem ta lost the taste

I used to see ya
in your fishnets and mini skirt
I just wanted to get to know ya
not roll with you in the dirt

but then thats your idea of love baby
no matter who gets hurt
youre gonna do what youre wanna do
and youll get yours first

well im here to tell ya
best not count me truly yours
cause party of the second part
done just ran around the world

Hasta la Vista, M’Cheri

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Hasta la vista, M'Cheri

Breaking up… sometimes it’s hard to do, sure. Still, often enough, it produces a grim satisfaction. Like finally getting around to pulling that ol’ stump out in back of the shed or cleaning the attic or finally having the doc take care of that boil on your…

Anyhow, the title of this ditty is a tip of the ol’ beret to those dadaesque 70s cult art-glamsters, Sparks. (We shall not mention their new wave career in the 80s.) Unfortunately, the name of the song in question escapes me.