SONGS & LYRICS

Bree has been writing songs since she was 17, walking in knee-deep snow in Cleveland, when the words of her first poem, The Dust Catcher came from her throat as though a woman she had not yet met knew how the melody went.

Even for her own sake she collects lyrics here of songs she has written in 20+ years….forthcoming is an album of originals….at last, something to show for her life’s work.
xoxox

Dawn’s Bog written in Pleasureville, KY 2015

tromping my way through the mushroom field
on my way to see Dawn’s Bog
tromping my way through the mushroom field
on my way to see Dawn’s Bog

Birdsong overhead, crunching on the ground,
now the corn’s all dead
Birdsong overhead, crunching on the ground-
fine affair we had, now that the corn
is all dead

A true lady wears the sunlight well
and she genuflects in clover
Her knees are bare to stone ground
where mosses play, and ferns collect
to spout off like dilettantes

A gentleman escorts the shadows from
her face, and swears to the rock audience
the view is finer, and acoustics great-
just over there

tromping my way through the mushroom field
on my way to see Dawn’s Bog
tromping my way through the mushroom field
on my way to see Dawn’s Bog

i came across a little bone, musta been the shin
of an awfully young fawn
said i came across a bone, til i had to stop-
cus i was in a skeleton field, a skeleton field

may apples bloomed between the ribs
of a coyote in the clearing- them shoots was
greener than gold, and gold enough for me
to say to you they were yellow

i looked the other way, the rest of my young
fawn was posed upon a carpet of spring
beauties- pink and white blooms that appear
first sign of spring, so delicate, in rugged Kentucky

tromping my way through the mushroom field
on my way to see Dawn’s Bog
tromping my way through the mushroom field
on my way to see Dawn’s Bog

and the grackles fly, fly on up ahead, so darn
glad to be back home again after such a long fly,
such a long fly- the grackles fly, fly on up ahead
so darn glad to be back home again after
such a long fly, such a long fly

Johnnycake written in Cleve., OH 2004

Hungry for some sweetness
but your man ain’t feeling right
Ggrandma gave me a recipe
he’ll be loving you all night

One cup of sweet milk
and one cup of sour
Two cups cornmeal and one cup of flour
A swig of molasses, baby, some soda and salt
and the way he’ll be acting
won’t be your grandma’s fault

When you make him johnnycake
you won’t be so hungry no more

Stir it up, put it in a greased pan
and bake it up right

So you want some sugar
but your man’s feeling old and tired
Grandma gave me the secret
go and get your oven fired

When you keep a man’s mouth
full, honey, he will satisfy your appetite

When you make him johnnycake
you know you wont be so hungry no more
stir it up, put it in a greased pan
and bake it up right.


Blackberry Gin written in Waddy, KY 2018

My baby says its just me and him
against the world, but i know what
makes his eyelashes curl

If our nights should end before they can begin,
can begin, you can blame it on that blackberry gin

My honey loves his blackberry gin
so i guess i better fix one again
When he does something wrong its
not a sin, not a sin, you can blame it
on that blackberry gin

My baby loves me best in the world-
lifes his oyster and i am its pearl
Aint nothing pairs with wine like
me and him, me and him
but that good unrationed blackberry gin

My honey loves his blackberry gin
so i guess i better fix one again
When he does something wrong its
not a sin, not a sin, you can blame it
on that blackberry gin

My baby thinks we make quite the team
he’s the engine and i am its steam
Should he go off the rails now and again
you could blame it on that blackberry gin

Should he go off the rails now and again
you could blame it on that blackberry gin


Trombone written in Cleve., 2000

You say we’re just friends
then hold me in your smile
we go for a walk
and don’t talk, for miles.

When we’re alone, just like
a trombone, you slide
right into my heart.

I try to listen to my own heart
when you say
that you don’t look at me that way,
and what I hear is just what I see,
brown eyes, singing sweet songs,
singing their love to me.

They say we’re just friends,
but why should I explain
that when the night ends
you’ll be driving me insane.

When its just you and me
its like a jubilee
oh, honey, when we’re alone
you come on just like a trombone,
you slide right into my heart.

Hey Gov (For Governor Matt Bevin) written in Pleasureville, KY 2017

Hey Gov,
i hear you believe in heaven.
The way you been doin, you won’t get in-
no, no, no Governor Bevin.

Instead of openin’ doors, well
you like you shet ’em.
And as for the weak and the poor
I know you’d just forget ’em.
There’s no ark can keep creatures like you
from your own terrible reign.

Don’t you know bankrupt souls can’t
file Chapter 11? 
Oh, no.

We’re gonna miss you in heaven
Oh, ho oh ho ho
Governor Bevin


Doesn’t Take a Scientist written in Pleasureville, KY 2015

Doesn’t take a scientist to understand
a broken heart, doesn’t require a fancy graph
or colored chart. Sounds just like bawling cows
who’ve been parted from their calves,
or like this broken record keeps skippin’ on 
your favorite track (track, track)

You took the best of me, and put it in a glossary
with an index so darn thick, well, I could frost a cake
with it.

You’re so above my readin’-level, you won’t condescend
to tell me why you broke a fence you’ll never mend.

When the cows are bawlin means the calves have been
taken in, sounds like this broken record here,
keeps skippin on my favorite cut-

the vinyl I’ll keep spinnin’, the windows I’ll not shut.
Let the sounds have at it- they complete the discord
in my guts. 

My guts, my guts- you stringed your racquet with,
when it was 40-Love and 60-none at all, it makes 
me feel so small.

You took the best of me, and put it in a glossary
with an index so darn thick, well I could frost a cake
with it.

You’re so above my readin’-level, you won’t condescend
to tell me why you broke a fence you’ll never mend,
to tell me why you broke a fence you’ll never mend.


Ohio written in Pleasureville, KY 2016

You know i live in Pleasureville
where i pay my bills in funny money
cus ive been ill for awhile.

But i come from Oh-how, Oh-how, Oh-how,
Oh-o-how-oh, Oh-how-o-o-Hi-oh, Ohio.

And i stay at the hotel, hotello, hotel
hotello, hotel ho-o-tell-o hotello.
It was where the workers stayed when the
tracks were laid, and after
that it became a bordello.

I like to get buck-wild outside
the birds i find, dirt roads that
i climb are so mellow.

And when i’m walkin in the street
should the folks i meet ask me
where i’m from then i tell them Oh-how-
i say it like they do, 
Oh-how, Oh-how,Oh-how, Oh-o-how-oh,
Oh-how-o-o-Hi-oh, Ohio.
i say it like they do, 
Oh-how, Oh-how,Oh-how, Oh-o-how-oh,
Oh-how-o-o-Hi-oh, Ohio.

Dust Catcher written in Cleve., OH 1995 (poem from 1992)

Daddy u mean vacuum cleaner, uh huh.
You sucked the dirt from my face, ass and
hips, losing traces of my heart in the
process, with openings
diamonds take years to grow in.

Daddy, you stole my hot breath
till it ran cold and smooth as
a statue’s, its hard to move.
For we are the dust catchers, we two.
You are a vacuum, and I am a witch who
got carried away by her broom.

You chopped off my leg to make it
easier to sweep, but u lost the
attachment, so now I’ve a visible limp,
(don’t think they wont notice)

Please replace my calve with that
rosebush braided, to persuade nasty men
with my thorns to think again before
climbing my sex.

You and I with our brooms will sit
chins in our hands, alone in our rooms
and we’ll catch any dust as it settles.

Mesmerized by ceramic, and careful
not to slip, I’ll study your mad tattoo
leaving my arms open, Daddy
I’m your little girl.



Impersonating Fruit written in Cleve., OH 1995

Come with me
into an empty banana peel I found
stretched across a field
like a wide sweet hammock

Let the fibrous lining cling
beneath our skins
with irregular dips like stone
dressed in downy sprig,

I’ll slip into your stalking cap
and steer you near the stem
and bend your arms and legs
around me,

like a wide sweet hammock

I’m sure I’ll feel quite at home
impersonating fruit with you

yes I said I’m sure I’ll feel quite at home
impersonating fruit with you


When i Was a City Girl i Didnt Have It Like This
written in Waddy, KY 2019

cruisin the holler, you got a hand on my
collar, the other ones holding a beer

dont need to say to me take it slow baby-
im on the lookout for deer

countin does, nights like this,
howd it turn out like this? 
you easy, and me unwound-
you wont see this girl city-bound

when i was a city girl i didnt have it like this 
when i was a city girl i didnt have it like this 
when i was a city girl i didnt have it like this

black eyed man next to me, holding my
hand on my knees, youd think i was
dreaming, not driving to town

not a streetlight for miles, aint no neon or
traffic or none of its guile

moon makes light of whole fields made of
butterweed- all is yellow now,
clear to the barn. 

soon milkweed and asters will 
lavendar-up the place-when summers come
and gone and youre still in my seat

when i was a city girl i didnt have it like this 
when i was a city girl i didnt have it like this 
when i was a city girl i didnt have it like this

sawing logs at Old Mikes today,
i followed a male downy pecker
into leafless trees.

found pink crystal salt someone left for
the licking, looked quartz- but you called
for me and it got my heart ticking

when i was a city girl i didnt have it like this 
when i was a city girl i didnt have it like this 
when i was a city girl i didnt have it like this

later you’ll light the kerosene,
we’ll lay back for some of that
mindless TV.

and we’ll laugh and complain, babe
but i aint felt cold in a while


My Ladder written in Cleve., OH 2011

You are so very glad and nice,
i want to love you love you twice
The song you write will be unsung,

i want to climb you like 
a ladder 
rung by rung

The bell it sounds for each of us
The bell i found inside your eyes 
so damn soft to the touch

The way you love makes that bell sing
The way the bell rings makes me blush
right in the camera you stare 
stone embankments
past the taker 
goes your glance in glad enchantment comes

the undertaker,
memories of you 
there goes my mind
i want to love you love you kind

the song you write might be unsung
i want to climb you like a ladder,
rung by rung
rung by rung
rung by rung

im going to climb you like a ladder,
rung by rung
rung by rung
rung by rung



Teacher, Thing Of Beauty written in Cleve., OH 2010

what i see i can’t remember,
what i hear i might forget,
when u show me with your hands,
like that, you know i’ll never quit

because to learn is a thing of beauty,
once you know it becomes your duty
to do a thing right every time, please do it quick!

(o, do it quick)

because to learn is a genuine diamond
with a hardness i’m findin hard to resist,

with my hands in a fist, i can’t take your
gifts, oh, teacher, won’t ya school me?

please don’t be cruel to me,
so much is new to me, all i know’s what
i see i can’t remember,
what i hear i’ll soon forget

when u show me with your hands like that
you’ll find i’m not so thick
because to learn is a thing of beauty,
and you’re it, it, it, it, it.



First Class Citizen written in Cleve., OH 1996

I stand above a valley, peering out over 
brocolli carpet, those tall trees, waiting like
a welcome mat.

I bobble back and forth, I play with death, 
and then I take a step back, laughing at
my naughtiness.

And I know, and I know that the climb back up’s
a hearty one, I take the bike path instead.

Smiling at the passers by, I pass on
the left, I am the first class citizen.

I am the first class, first class citizen.
I am the first class citizen, I am.

Don’t give disturbing thoughts encouragement
if you know what’s good for you.

And don’t heed the preacher, don’t stay in bed,
get up! Get out and live instead.

And don’t listen to your mom, don’t listen to
your dad,just listen to the voices inside your head.

And don’t pick the flowers, don’t feed the bears
If you know whats good for you
if you know whats good for you.


That Buzz written in Cleve., OH 2011

afraid i would lose my poetry buzz
i smoked weed
afraid i would lose my weed buzz
i drank some beer
afraid i would lose my beer buzz
i sat down and thought about you,
and what’s not fair,
like done is done,
and you’ve not won

your one true maiden i am 
you are my long lost 
sailor in arms

we are each other’s jailor
bail bondsman 
and lawyer,

but unlike the law
we’ve been true,
my love,

i never want to lose 
that buzz

zzzzzz zzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzz
hmm hmm. that me and you zzzz


What Will Become of Our Being Us written in Cleve., OH 2000

i may never know your softest spot
your touchy one, but i know your calm,
your waters, your good taste in wine
and you offer me your eyes,

so i offer up my woman to your man,
still i ask you, to what prince do i cling?
what will become of our being us
as a separate thing?

what will become of our being us
as a separate thing?

you sir are all about raw energies
i snake and bend with these
even after our collapse

we resurrect in each other mad
feelings of a love that we cannot reject

still you have to realize
the gift im giving you is life
so i ask you, to what prince do i cling?

what will become of our being us
as a separate thing?

what will become of our being us
as a separate thing?

He-Wolf written in Cleve., OH 1996

he wolf, sneaky one
with that wide, sandpaper
tongue, wet in places.

you spread your juices on
the moon, slow, like
butter melting,

and she carried you
connected by joint
and crater
in an archway
to ascending sky,

she sucked you
in installments, slowly
savoring the life in you

fuller with each turn
she churned you
in her bowl of caramel skin,

and when you ailing
mewed your last, lonesome
utterance, she smiled
and returned you to
soft earth so you
could
lick away the lint,
and take a rest.

he wolf, sneaky one
with that wide, sandpaper
tongue, wet in places,
you spread your juices
on the moon
so slow like
butter melting,
and she carried you.


Where Do i Go? written in Cleve., OH 2001

where do i go
when all i see is leaves roots dirt and snow?
when i see the mountain, am i not really 
in the mountain? and if not in,
then where do i go?

where do i go
when im not in the dirt and snow?
where do i go- tell me, when its cold?
where do i go when im setting 
aside these ragged bones
if not in the leaves, roots,
dirt and snow?

where could i be
when i feel the cool water rushing
over me?

when im in the ocean
how come i cant really be
the ocean?

sand sticks where it shows,
so where do i go?


Prince John written in Cleve., OH 2011

i walk down to the graveyard again
past the japanese maples and american
flags, to where the daffodils in spring
like a carpet are spread, where the sun
pours down on both the living and dead

read in the paper you made your big deal
i still make my money behind the wheel
driving kids we couldn’t raise to a primary school
i sit between stones on my axle

prince john you been gone too long
maybe you’ve found love where it don’t belong
but the sun pours down on the here and gone
as i sit by the stone of our lost little one

my stone might read
here lies a princess
whose governing body her prince caressed
before he left like a fast lane of traffic

your stone might say just how heavy you
felt in my heart that day
i cld not get out of bed
you took me in your
arms and held on, whispering magic

prince john you been gone too long
maybe you’ve found love where it don’t belong
counting daffodil petals, it don’t mean much
like being one card short of a royal flush

was a day when we both believed in a castle
are you still whispering magic?


My Dolly written in Cleve., OH 1996


i was never your dolly really,
all stringy hair and laces
my legs instead are two organic
pencils hairy, that rarely look
new in stockings, my neck an
overgrown gosling’s,

still my cheeks burn mauve candy for you to lick

if only they made dollies who preferred being
stuck in a corner to being stuffed with a diseased lolly pop
and another ladies misplaced hips, if only they did

if my gingham skirts werent
your obsession, darling
what haunted you most as
you buckled that other
ladies shoes?

perhaps youd remember my crooked nose whose
bridge housed spiders while you kissed her
or those grapefruits that section my legs
as together you would bathe in Champaign

still my blank beetle eye click,
running in place while you memorize my face

if only they made dollies who
preferred being stuck in a corner to
being stuffed with a diseased lolly pop
and another ladies misplaced hips,
if only they did

i was never your dolly really,
these rags werent made for riches
i guess i never meant to be your princess bitch


Ginkos all long Gateway written in Cleve., OH 2006

Ginkos all long Gateway
and Pintos in the parking lot
Ginkos all long Gateway
and Pintos in the parking lot
You know I walks all long the
wayside cause that noise and
traffic don’t stop, don’t stop

Walking Cleveland, rust them boogie
oogie on a downtown blues

Walking Cleveland, walking Cleveland
rust them boogie oogie on a downtown blues

You know, there’s ginkos all long Gateway
and Pintos where you find the room

Walking Cleveland, and I am a camera
wipe salt peter on the sky
drop my hips wide like I was Cassandra

brick them blues, pull back the pavement
breathe it in wide like a mantra

Walking Cleveland, rust them boogie
oogie on a downtown blues

Walking Cleveland, walking Cleveland
rust them boogie oogie on a downtown blues

You know, there’s ginkos all long
Gateway and Pintos where you find the room

My Womanwritten in Cleve., OH 1997

i see my woman only in enchanted moments
devinely wrapped in clothes surreal
other-worldy, timeless

and she flirts with me
rounding figure eights about my crevices
and then she laughs at me and leaves me
itching for the ghost of future
mother’s fleeting comfort of the past

and she floats in a passing breeze
on the eve of consciousness she creeps
and she floats in a passing breeze
on the eve of consciousness she creeps

my woman comes to me in reams of self-
expression, she sings in me my throat full of light
we share a cigarette, our breath interlocking
in slow tendrils, then breaking

she slips into her robe, i slip into a muted peace
but im itching for the ghost of future
mother’s fleeting comfort of the past

and she floats in a passing breeze
on the eve of consciousness she creeps
and she floats in a passing breeze
on the eve of consciousness she creeps


Wet Brain written in Cleve., OH 1998

wet brain, little brain
i remember you when you
kept on top of things,
measuring dreams
with a straight-edge thumb

one sip of that forbidden,
one sip and your glances
shiftless thots adrift
spread out like logs
on a river whose current you
could not combat

so now you’re on tap
but without easy access
to your embraces
or your original eyes

wet brain, little brain
you kept on top of things
now you aint the same
little brain, little little
wet brain

whats become of
whats become of
whats become of my little
little little wet brain

Wasn’t Dealt a Fair Hand written in Cleve., OH 2008

wasn’t dealt a fair hand
the first to admit
wasn’t playing with a full bag
of nuts, never bluff on an
empty sack

and never look back

so the best hand’s gone to another man
go on and play another hand
you’re on a real short stack

you’ve got no givings, only misses
what’s in your buckle now?
‘smore than wishes
play’s you go you gone
swim with the fishes

looks like the table’s yours now
well better rake it in

sweep it like a sand castle
king of table manners

you know we wont take back
what’s yours

looks like the whole rack
everything’s at your disposal
you got it all man

you know you played your stack

Come for Me written in Cleve., OH 2003

may not be what it seems
never while away the dreams
deep in your heart,
deep in my heart,
come for me

lapkiss, lip-beat of fingers
on keys, what key is me?
deep in my heart?
be in my key
come for me
come for me.

King King written in Cleve., OH 2001

king king
some men they think they a king
thing thing
but riches don’t mean a thing

when u got nothing
then you got nothing to prove
feels like the royal blues,
feels like the royal blues

don’t spend a nickel or a dime
to show me a good time

i mean save your money
i already think that you’re sweet and funny

lets go dancing in an old pair of shoes
feels like the royal blues,
feels like the royal blues.

Smaller written in Cleve., OH 2003

she’s smaller than she ever was,
her face is like a globe, or the expanded edition,
soft melon, cold.

her eyes hold all of her now,
the rest is hidden by a robe
that enfolds her like a whole field,

like a deflated willow, turned to soft cloth
cleansing a disc or a wound, i would rather
move further on towards that day
than remember
touching,
(touching),
that day will come soon.

even smaller then, she will fit into a glove,
she will turn to soft cloth,
and linger, linger, linger like the moon.

Death written in Cleve., OH 2003

Death is the sibling who meddles
having no great thing to take his time

Death has mastered the art of teasing
no hobbies but hopping into eyes

Feigns sleep in any container thought empty
slipping into sight

Death never tires

Spends his life perfecting this game
childhood rivalry

Jazz is Dead written in Cleve., OH 2003

Jazz is dead in the holder
weep and moan, reap and sew.
Jazz is dead in the holder,
weep and moan, reap and sew.

Jazz is dead, it has no holder
for a soul, for a soul, for a soul.

My capacity for getting high
is higher.

My inclination toowards staying
dry is dryer.

I’m on a speed chase, and
nothing’s getting near.

I no longer fear, I’m flying
I’m flying, I’m flying, I’m fine.

Jazz is dead in the holder.
Jazz is dead, it has no holder
for a soul, for a soul, for a soul.

Deep in the Catbox written in Cleve., OH 2000
Thought i’d landed in Fort Knox,
baby kept me in furs and rocks,
then he sailed way East babe, 
he changed the locks.
Now i

m deep in the cat box.

Better never love a man 
who treat you too good, yeah. 
If he’s a real shoe, man, and he 
act jes like he should.

Crazy tom will be loving his gal,
then be leaving her cold
just for not doing as she’s told.

I’m deep in the cat box,
(I’m down in it) deep in the cat box.

Crazy man shouldn’t leave his pussy
deep in the cat box.
Crazy man shouldn’t leave his pussy
so deep in the cat box.

Now im the type of kind of gal
who knows money too well.
Been high up on the bar sometimes
and also deep in a well.
Be a long time coming
till I’m sharing my milk
with another tom tied
up in silk.
I’m deep in the cat box.
I’m down in it.
So deep in the cat box.

Pushin’ It written in Cleve., OH 2005

i’m pushin it, sumtimes, i know
ain’t no use in cryin’
i’m just pushin it sumtimes

yeah i act crazy, sumtimes,
and not like a lady
and you roll me your eyes,
as i’m rollin the dice

may lose some money
then act like it’s funny
and i know it’s not nice,

i’m just pushin it sumtimes.
i’m pushin it, sumtimes, i know
ain’t no use in cryin’
i’m just pushin it sumtimes

i may be funny,
get looked at, but honey,
isn’t it nice?

i mean, won’t it suffice?

cuz we got the world on a
we holdin’ the string, and
aw, isn’t it nice?
we neat, with no ice.

we just pushin’ it sumtimes.

we’re pushin it, sumtimes, i know
ain’t no use in cryin’
we keep pushin it sumtimes

yeah we get in trouble
start seein in double
and be feelin the limes,
but the road we will climb

cuz two grins make a right,
and what’s left of a night
means you holding me tight.

we just keep pushin’ it sumtimes
we keep on pushin it sumtimes

Progress written in Cleve., OH 2000


and we all know the way
and we all see at times
but some walk the beam
while others must strive

and yet in colliding we tend
to remind one another to
lay low, to hover, and
let it all go

and to live without knowing the way.

and there isnt any age when life
eases up cuz its all the same,
we’re just different

and the leaf speaks the same
as poet or philosopher,
knowing what’s what

takes homogenous thought
and a rhythm-trained ear

for progress travels in sound
aging want for the music life
lends to the listening

Turned On written in Cleve., OH 2001

Turned on is inclusive
its more than just mind
its legs and its juices
all flowing in their time

Its notes beat out,
predicting our next move
(hey)

It’s a tiny melody
waiting in the wings.

Turned on is contagious,
it breeds more of the same.

Keep movings with these rhythms, babe.

Its more,
its more,
its yours and mine,
its fine, its fine.

Turned on is elusive,
a poem off its mind.
With words at its sluices,
they slip away sometimes,
(its fine).

The Rain and the Sky written in Cleve., OH 1998

i walk the long plank running
never learned it any other way
i see my shadow coming
but it don’t make little difference

i step outside, i am reminded
of the rain and the sky

i put one foot
in front of the other
one foot when the
other won’t stay

one foot in front
of the other, when the
other won’t stay, nothin’s
standin in the way

so when youre walking around
and you notice that its all a charade
and your feet kiss the ground with
each step like a Buddhist parade
and your heart is abounding with
thots of a previous day,

you might feel kinda sentimental
but its after the fact,

just step outside and be reminded
of the rain and the sky

i put one foot
in front of the other
one foot when the
other won’t stay

one foot in front
of the other, when the
other won’t stay, nothin’s
standin in the way

so when youre swimming around
in the dark with a light switch
one arm’s length away,
on a wintery day,
on a cold and
a cold and a
wintery day,

just step outside and be reminded
of the rain and the sky

No Regard written in Cleve., OH 2000

as if the sun were wavering
or the clouds, wrinkling
into themselves

smoke given off by wet grasses
melts through the air,
nothing more than colored
shadows,
then disappears

moss-stricken trees
look down at their toes,
flutter heartless,
and steep in the arbor

a dark gale whispers

i do not listen to the words

i have no regard
for words to the weary,
and anyway,

every day there is a new sky
a new sky, every every day
and every sky has a new face,
one artist’s impression
of the race against time,
or the sun, wavering
or the clouds, wrinkling
into themselves

so when a dark gale whispers
i do not listen to the words
i do not listen to the words

My Igloo written in Cleve., OH 2001

baby, my igloo
you chilled sweaty dreams
of escape, to keep me
from feverous longings
i so needed to satiate

as your empty terrace
admits, i’ve escaped

cold hands
and bandaged knee
i walk the streets
alone altho i know
you would have carried
me, baby,
you wouldve carried me

you shldnt carry
your hot momma, baby
i know i said i want a
tall drink of water,
but you was
too cool for me

you was too cold for me

Liza (in the John Song) written in Cleve., OH 2003

how long can you be,
Liza, dear Liza,
Liza, how long can you be?

I mean monopolize the
can, dear Liza, keeping it
away from me?

I admit I waits too long,
nights like these,
forget about my body’s
needs, I wish I knew

How long, Liza, dear Liza,
Liza how long can you be?

Liza how long can you be?

I admit it,
gin won’t let
me forget it

I waits too long,
that’s why I’m
singin this song

Liza—
dear, dear Liza
Liza, how long can you be?

Liza how long can you be?

Nature Hike written in Cleve., OH 2005

roll up your pants, baby
we’ll go for a hike
roll up your pants,
baby, we’ll go on
a nature hike

you can wipe your hands
later, let’s build us an
apetite.

maybe climb, i’ll need a
boost, or two
maybe climb, i’ll need a
boost, or two

wade in them rocks and water,
and maybe i’ll get used to you.

can’t keep the flies from buggin’
oh, but i ain’t that kind of lady
plenty of time for huggin’
ooh-ooh, and you know
i’m a lady

sun’s way up in the sky
baby, go on a hike
with me

(go on a nature hike)
go on a hike
with me.

Trees and Bushes written in Cleve., OH 1997

trees and the bushes dont mind
our rubbish and trash
they grow perfectly still
through our storms, only
wind can alter their branches

and the crows and the sparrows
are playing together
this morning,
they dont mind our differences,
they simply celebrate
for the cause of things

keep your eyes to the
birds and the trees
for they simply
celebrate,
every day every day every day
they grow closer to everything

trees and the bushes
dont mind our emptiness
they dont feel the confusion,
cant see the dishonest faces
of men

and they carry on in foliage costumes,
look this one wears and ivy vest,
this one with mossy knees,
it occurs to me,
they dance a certain dance
in rhythm with the breeze

and the crows and the sparrows
are playing together this morning
they dont mind our differences
they simply celebrate for the
cause of things

keep your eyes to the
birds and the trees
for they simply celebrate,
every day every day every
day they grow closer to
everything