1. |
2006
03:42
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this ain't 2006, the summer's not endless. i know this from several years of trying to hold onto these moments, while all of these moments, they only keep dying and dying. so what am i supposed to do? is it too much to ask to be happy now after all that i've been through? i've been roaring into bars, loud and abrupt. "let's get up, let's get fucked tonight." and my friends, my friends are impatient and i guess i don't blame them. i get pretty hard to take when i start feeling this way - like my only escape is through brute force or a bottle of whiskey. whose side are you on tonight? let's get up, let's go out, all right.
so i'll call in the morning and tell you i'm sorry. i didn't mean to be an asshole while you were only trying to get me out of the snow. i didn't mean to break his nose, i was just trying to drive my point home. so what am i supposed to do? is it too much to ask you to stay in town for more than a night or two? i've been circling the block, anxious and rough. "it's not enough, i feel stuck tonight." and my thoughts, my thoughts keep on racing. i try but can't tame them. it gets pretty hard to do when i start following through. the only thing that ensues is chaos - some liquid distraction. whose side are you on tonight? let's get up, let's get fucked tonight.
'cause this is for my so-called friends and how they disappeared when it got inconvenient. and this is for the stories they told again and again, trying to get back to where it all began. this ain't 2006 anymore, you gotta find something worth living for. this ain't 2006 anymore, and this sure as hell ain't worth dying for.
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2. |
Atlantic City; 9PM
03:12
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take the wheel, hold it steady. tap the break until you're good and ready. garden state, atlantic city. king suite sitting pretty with me. and you quicken the pace that you take your drinks, try to break the ice with another absolut and you think, "what's the point of all this holding back for so long?"
'cause darling i've been doubling down, and if i lose you now i'll be tapped fresh out. you'll find me wandering around on the beach singing sweetly along to the sound of your voice.
lobby bar, dancing slowly. hold me close but you're still feeling lonely. highest heels, little blue dress. your sly smile, "ain't it a fine mess?" you're slowing your roll saying, "take me home" knowing full well there's a room upstairs and you've got the key. so what's the point of playing hard to get anymore?
it's all i can think about. what are you worried about? let's just have a little fun. this night ain't getting any younger at all, and neither are we. so can we talk about the future for just one second while we're living in the moment? and the minutes will melt into hours spent wondering, "how'd we ever live without this?"
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3. |
Hang It Up
03:16
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i was standing on the bridge over city line, watching the cars and laughing at some joke that you told in the summer when we were still talking - about your father and how he'd never approve of the things that we did in his kitchen, in the early evening heat when he went out walking. i can still feel those floor boards sticking to my skin, but i don't know what state you're living in.
so i've been thinking of reaching out, but we both know that i couldn't let go if i found you now. so i had to hang it up. and i've been dying to look you up, but we've both seen this could never be something good enough, so i had to hang it up.
i was walking on the east river thinking of the times you used to bring your camera here. your pictures never clearly had me in focus. just a colorful blur tucked in the corner to add some excitement when things got dull, that you tried to love, but gradually failed to notice. i can still see your pale skin in that sunlight, but i don't know what your voice sounded like.
let's just let it be in memory. we've been down this road before, and every time i turn around, it breaks me down a little more. so i'll fight this feeling hard but if i'm being honest, if you were to ask me for a drink, i wouldn't fight you on it.
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4. |
Atlantic City; 3AM
04:45
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i remember the cold air. the snow was stacked like mountains on the curb. you were packing a bag. i was starting the car. i remember the music - the feeling i was flying down the road. you said that i should just slow down, but i kept speeding. 'cause it was just one of those nights that i had to stay in motion.
i remember the hotel - the way you looked standing in the lobby. you were humming some show tune. i was rolling my eyes. i still remember the neon - casino floor lit up big and bright. you were holding my hand while i searched for the waitress. 'cause it was just one of those nights that i had to search for something.
i remember the black chips - a spinning wheel, yelling "23". you were playing along and i felt lucky for once. lord i remember the whiskey - the tension in my shoulders giving in. you said that i should just slow down. i ordered one more. 'cause it was just one of those nights that felt too good to not fuck up.
i remember the bedroom - your stockings sliding to the marble floor. you stood by the window while i started the shower. i remember the water - the way it washed away the smell of smoke. your makeup was running and i guess that i was too. 'cause it was just one of those nights that i had to run from something.
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Matt Talmage New York, New York
occasional songwriter from nyc.
used to have a band called man in a crowd.
mostly just play for my cats now.
@MattTalmage
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