All songs written by Stephin Merritt.
Buy more stock in roses. Millionaires will always woo. Don't be shocked if roses make a millionaire of you.
Love Is Like Jazz
Love is like jazz: You make it up as you go along, and you act as if you really knew the song, but you don't and you never will, so you flaunt your mistakes and you make them until they were you. Love is like jazz: the same song a million times in different ways. "Strange Fruit" with and without wind chimes. It's divine. It's asinine. It's depressing. And it's almost entirely window dressing, but it'll do.
When My Boy Walks Down the Street
Grand pianos crash together when my boy walks down the street. There are whole new kinds of weather when he walks with his new beat. Everyone sings hallelujah when my boy walks down the street. Life just kind of dances through ya from your smile down to your feet. Amazing. He's a whole new form of life, blue eyes blazing, and he's going to be my wife. The world does the hula-hula when my boy walks down the street. Everyone thinks he's Petula, so big and yet so petite. Butterflies turn into people when my boy walks down the street. Maybe he should be illegal. He just makes life too complete. Oh, shadows of echoes of memories. Oh, things that he brings that he found in the sea. Oh, shadows of echoes of memories of songs. Oh, how could he know that it won't be long.
Time Enough for Rocking When We're Old
There'll be time enough for rocking when we're old. We can rock all day in rocking chairs of gold. But tonight I think I'd rather just go dancing. There'll be time enough for rocking when we're old, my love. There'll be time enough for talk in the nursing home. Darling, time enough to write an epic poem. But tonight I think I'd rather just go dancing. There'll be time enough for talking in the home, my love. There'll be time enough for sleeping when we're dead. You will have a velvet pillow for your head. But tonight I think I'd rather just go dancing. There'll be time enough for sleeping when we're dead, my love. There'll be time enough for sex and drugs in Heaven, when our pheromones are turned up to 11. But tonight I think I'd rather just go dancing. There'll be time enough for sex and drugs in Heaven, my love. And time enough for rocking when we're old.
Everybody knows but me when you go where you shouldn't be. Everybody knows but me where you go when you're feeling free. Everybody knows but me. So you go there for a laugh. You just go to take photographs. To believe that, I'd be daft, but yes, I think you go for a laugh. And you say, "I love you, honey." Very funny.
If I was the Grand Canyon, I'd echo everything you say, but I'm just me: I'm only me, and you used to love me that way, so you know how to love me that way. If I was Paul Bunyan, I'd carry you so far away, but I'm just me: I'm only me, and you used to love me that way, so you know how to love me that way.
No One Will Ever Love You
If you don't mind, why don't you mind? Where is your sense of indignation? You are too kind, much too kind. Where is the madness that you promised me? Where is the dream for which I paid dearly? When things go wrong, I sing along. It is the nature of the business. But you're not here to make my sad songs more sincere. No one will ever love you honestly. No one will ever love you for your honesty.
If You Don't Cry
Softly the crystals falling on 17th Street do their dance and die and are gone. Millions of crystal balls roll around your feet and nothing gets done. An hour goes by; she doesn't. If you don't cry, it isn't love. If you don't cry, then you just don't feel it deep enough. Dying all day in thousands of little ways, dancing alone and drinking a lot, closing the clubs and haunting the cabarets, looking for what? Another five years off your life. A year goes by. She doesn't.
You're My Only Home
I will stay if you let me stay, and I'll go if you let me go, but I won't go far away, because you're my only home. I will hide what you want hidden, and I'll roam if you say roam, but I'd just as soon you didn't, because you're my only home. When you cancel dinner plans, when you cross the street and you don't take my hand, when you make impossible demands, I wish I didn't understand, but...
(Crazy for You But) Not That Crazy
I built a ship with my own hands to take us to the moon. I took a pen in my own hand and wrote you a hundred tunes. Now I'm crazy for you but not that crazy. I pretended you were Jesus: you were just dying to save me. I stood beneath your window with my ukulele. I made my yard a playground just in case we had a baby. Now I'm crazy for you but not that crazy. I treated you like radium. I treated you like God. You were my glass menagerie. Did you not find that odd? I dwelt within and went without, and broke my virgin flesh. I performed acts of devotion as if you were Ganesh. But now I'm crazy for you but not that crazy.
My Only Friend
Billie, you're a miracle, and God knows I need one. Sing me something terrible that even dawn may come. You and me, we don't believe in happy endings. Hey, Lady Day, can you save my life this time? Can you cry so beautifully you make my troubles rhyme? Hey, Lady Day, can you save my life again? My only love has gone away. Will you be my only friend? Billie, you're a genius, enough to be a fool, a fool to gamble everything and never know the rules. Some of us can only live in songs of love and trouble. Some of us can only live in bubbles...
Promises of Eternity
What if the show couldn't go on? What if we all got jobs and got to bed before dawn? What if Old Joe had to retire? What if all the stage hands were let go or fired? That's just like what the world would be if you fell out of love with me. I can't let this happen to you. Don't you let it happen to me. What would our friends and family say if they could only see? If you let this happen to us, don't think you'd be setting me free. Wasn't it you and I who made promises of eternity? What if the lights didn't go on? What if the velvet curtain had to be taken down? What if the clowns couldn't be clowns, and all those painted smiles gave in to plaintive frowns? What if no show ever happened again? No Seven, no 8 1/2, no Nine, and no "10." All numbers and no mystery. No promise of eternity.
When the rhythm calls, the government falls. Here come the cops. From Tokyo to Soweto, viva la musica pop. We are black and white and we dance all night down at the hop. And the letters were tall on the Berlin Wall. Viva la musica pop. So if you're feeling low, stuck in some bardo, I--even I--know the solution: Love, music, wine, and revolution. This too shall pass, so raise your glass to change and chance. And freedom is the only law. Shall we dance?
W! A-S-H! I-N-G! T-O-N, baby, D.C.! Washington, D.C., it's paradise to me. It's not because it is the grand old seat of precious freedom and democracy, no no no. It's not the greenery turning gold in fall, the scenery circling the Mall. It's just that's where my baby lives, that's all. Washington, D.C., it's the greatest place to be. It's not the cherries everywhere in bloom. It's not the way they put folks on the Moon, no no no. It's not the spectacles and pageantry, the thousand things you've got to see. It's just that's where my baby waits for me. Washington, D.C., it fits me to a T. It's not the people doing something real. It's not the way the springtime makes you feel, no no no. It ain't no famous name on a golden plaque that makes me ride that railroad track. It's my baby's kiss that keeps me coming back.
If someone told me you'd be here, whispering these familiar things, talking to my little pets, smoking the same old cigarettes, I would have laughed. I saw you last in summertime. You said you hated long goodbyes. You said there's nothing to explain, in every life a little rain, et cetera. And a long-forgotten fairytale is in your eyes again, and I'm caught inside a dream world where the colors are too intense and nothing is making sense. There's a floating town of eiderdown in a mist of mystery. There's an old enchanted castle and the princess there is me, decked out like a Christmas tree. I guess you've had your little joke, but I have lost my sense of humor. My medication's wearing off, or it's just not strong enough to cover this. And then you kiss me like before, and I find myself wanting more. And you tell that little lie that kept me hypnotized: another kiss. If someone told me I'd succumb, if someone said I'd be so dumb, after all the sleepless nights when I turned on all the lights, I would have hit them. But I have turned the other cheek. My voice trembles, my knees are weak. And you beat me once again and I know what happens then: you raise the ante.
Kiss Me Like You Mean It
He is my lord. He is my savior. And He rewards my good behavior. My secret soul, I know He's seen it. He says, come here, baby, and kiss me like you mean it. He calls me baby, says kiss me like you mean it. He is my light and my salvation. He's always right. He's always patient. I pinch myself. It's like I'm dreaming it. He is my love. He's always been it.
Papa Was a Rodeo
I like your twisted point of view, Mike. I like your questioning eyebrows. You've made it pretty clear what you like. It's only fair to tell you now that I leave early in the morning, and I won't be back till next year. I see that kiss-me pucker forming, but maybe you should plug it with a beer, cause Papa was a rodeo, Mama was a rock 'n' roll band. I could play guitar and rope a steer before I learned to stand. Home was anywhere with diesel gas. Love was a trucker's hand. Never stuck around long enough for a one-night stand. Before you kiss me you should know Papa was a rodeo. The light reflecting off the mirror ball looks like a thousand swirling eyes. They make me think I shouldn't be here at all. You know, every minute someone dies. What are we doing in this dive bar? How can you live in a place like this? Why don't you just get into my car and I'll take you away? I'll take that kiss now, but... And now it's 55 years later. We've had the romance of the century. After all these years wrestling gators, I still feel like crying when I think of what you said to me... What a coincidence, your Papa was a rodeo too.
Epitaph for My Heart
"Caution: To prevent electric shock, do not remove cover. No user-serviceable parts inside. Refer servicing to qualified service personnel." Let this be the epitaph for my heart. Cupid put too much poison in the dart. This is the epitaph for my heart because it's gone, gone, gone; and life goes on and on and on; and death goes on. World without end, and you're not my friend. Who will mourn the passing of my heart? Will its little droppings climb the pop chart? Who'll take its ashes and, singing, fling them from the top of the Brill Building? And life goes on, and dawn, and dawn; and death goes on. World without end, and you're not my friend.
Asleep and Dreaming
I've seen you laugh at nothing at all. I've seen you sadly weeping. The sweetest thing I ever saw was you asleep and dreaming. I've seen you when your ship came in and when your train was leaving. The sweetest thing I ever saw was you asleep and dreaming. Well, you may not be beautiful, but it's not for me to judge. I don't know if you're beautiful because I love you too much.
The Sun Goes Down and the World Goes Dancing
So the sun goes down and the world goes dancing, and the stars come out and they all go dancing, and there is nothing I'd like more than a twirl across this rickety old floor. Well, I don't know why, but I just feel like dancing. I can't imagine why, but I feel like dancing, and there is nothing in this world that I'd like better than a twirl across your rickety old floor. Maybe it's you. You know your eyes are awful blue. Maybe it's more. Maybe you're all I've ever waited for, after all the endless nights when I wished I could still cry.
The Way You Say Good-Night
So far away and so alone, how could I ever take you home? You're beautiful, beautiful. You've a got a devastating point of view, and everything you say is true. You're beautiful, beautiful. The nightbirds start to sing their favorite song: "The Way You Say Good-Night." The nightbirds start to sing their favorite song and the moon begins to sing. I kiss you and the sun goes down. How come it's always dark when you're around? You're beautiful, beautiful. The nightbirds sing their favorite song. The moon begins to sing. You're beautiful, beautiful. The stars begin their Busby Berkeley dance: "The Way You Say Good-Night." And the night becomes a musical extravaganza: "The Way You Say Good-Night." The way you say good-night, I dream of all day long. Oh, I could write a song about the way you say good-night.
Abigail, Belle of Kilronan
Abigail, can you feel my heart in the palm of your hand, and do you understand why I can't stay? Abigail, an evil wind is blowing through the land, and they need every man to drive it away. When I come home, if I come home, you'll be a grown woman. When I come home, if I come home, don't be alone, Abigail, belle of Kilronan. Abigail 's gonna be the beauty of County Galway, and she will live always in a world of love. Abigail, I'm off to the war, but you can be sure I will know you're what I'm fighting for.
Bang, there was you. Too gold, too blue. You told the truth. I cried. You flew. You called me mad (and I am mad) as a hatter. Some fall in love, I shatter. You make it rain. Too bleak, too stark. Should night not fall, you make things dark. Bang, here am I. No one nowhere, no ground, no sky, no light, no air.
Copyright (c) Sep 1999 - Apr 2013 by The Distant Plastic Treehouse