Indulgence
I’m gonna ask for your indulgence/‘Cause this could get drawn out
But I’m gonna choose my words real carefully/‘Cause I damn sure know what I’m talkin’ about
You see I know you’re in there somewhere/Shackled to your pain
And you’re reluctant to release it/‘Cause then you’d have to start all over again
And so deferring your salvation/To some vague afterlife
You cultivate your cynicism/You hone it like a knife
You’re wrapped in cool indifference/You bust a jagged world/And you drape the street smart woman/Around a little girl
I’m gonna ask for your indulgence/I ask for no pretense
I left my pride in Charolotte NC in 1997/And I ain’t seen it since
But I got sixteen hundert dollars behind the backseat of my car/And I ain’t got no illusions as to what my options are
So if you still got your desire/And a voice to make it heard/Mama here I stand to listen/To every twisted word
Now, you can muster your defenses/And you can have your troops deploy/Or you can drape that street smart woman/Around this little boy
I'm going to ask for your indulgence . . .
©John Carl Escue, 2014
Make a Living
She asked me why
I just went on and told her
She asked me why
I just went on and told her
I got to make a living got to feed these kids/Got to put it all behind me now
Gotta do it the way my Daddy did
I got to make a living got to feed these kids/Got to put it all behind me now
Gotta do it the way my Daddy did
Every man gotta a limit/Every woman got her pride/I ain’t gonna pay some damn fool gonna try/You can blame it on the liquor
Blame it on naked desire/It’s all the same where you put the blame ‘cause you ain’t putting out the fire
She asked me why
I just went on and told her
She asked me why
I just went on and told her
Hey . . .
I got to make a living got to feed these kids/Got to put it all behind me now
Gotta do it the way my Daddy did
I got to make a living got to feed these kids/Got to put it all behind me now
Gotta do it the way my Daddy did
Gonna keep it real simple, keep it close to home/ I ain’t pickin up the paper/ Ain’t pickin up the telephone
Keep your nose to the grindstone/Get it like you're some damn kid/It’s getting old but makes your blood run cold thinkin ‘bout the way you did
She asked me why
I just went on and told her
She asked me why . . .
I just went on and told her
©John Carl Escue, 2014
Might have had it coming
So tell me the one again about the best laid plans/The plans of mice and men
And take it real slow/I'm just wanna let that sink in
I ain't gonna lie about the reasons why I'm in the shape I'm in
'Cause I'm the kind of guy who's gonna take it on the chin
But then ~
I might have had it coming
I might have had it coming
I might have had it coming
To me, to me
See, I've been trying to run from any harm I've done/But I can't match the pace And I've got this sinking feeling that I might lose this race But I was sure that anybody keeping score of all the battles that I've fought Would have the sense to factor in the greater good I sought
But then I thought ~
I might have had it coming
I might have had it coming
I might have had it coming
To me, to me
And now that the hand of grace is poised to slap my face/I grapple with my angst
And try to get a handle on of just what I'm up against
And lookin' at all this stuff that never was enough/The shiny, scattered mess
I figure the cost of what I lost to this wretched excess
I guess ~
I might have had it coming
I might have had it coming
I might have had it coming
To me
©John Carl Escue, 2014
Seat of my pants
I did the bidness, I did the plan/I had the money in the palm of my hand
She had the body, she had the moves/Man, she was willin' she had nothin' to lose
I figure running was my only chance/That's when she grabbed me by the seat of my pants
Losers to the left, suckers on the right
I could smell the money burning in the middle of the night
I flew to Dallas, called in a debt/Six thousand dollars and used Corvette
Outside of Memphis I hit a bump/I don't know nothin' 'bout no weed in that trunk
I jumped my bail, I jumped a train/I jumped a divorcee in Bangor, Maine
She'll likely kill me but I'll take that chance 'cause I'm flyin' by the seat of my pants
The seat of my pants
I'm ain't complainin', I done the math/Might need a haircut, might need a bath
But I still gotta mind like a blue steal trap/Why don't'chu come over here and sit on my lap
I'll tell you a story you ain't never heard/I'll have you hangin' on my every word
Once you start twitchin' in my Voodoo trance, you'll be flying by the seat of my pants
Losers to the left, suckers on the right
©John Carl Escue, 2014