when i come to love you you don't look me in the eyes
when i come to love you you don't look me in the eyes
i'll be singing to you and dancing too but i can't even catch a sigh
your feet are planted on the ground but your gaze is on the sky

spouting words of wisdom a leaky faucet that won't stop
spouting words of wisdom a leaky faucet that won't stop
i lost my wrench and it don't make much sense not one kind word will you drop
if you don't fix that leak babe i think i'm gonna need a mop

gee but it's hard to love you babe when i know you don't love me
i've been mistrusted, heartbroken too like a rock cast in the sea
once i came home every night wishin i'd find you there
now when i see your smiling face my heart aches in despair

i'd love you for a nickel i'd love you for a dime
love you for a nickel give you everything for a dime
i don't mind the cost i'm already lost i left my good sense behind
if you'd only open up your eyes open them into mine

someday you'll find me gone babe i think it won't be long
someday you'll find me gone babe i think it won't be long
i'm sick of crying i ain't one for lying you know you treated me wrong
keep the house the cars the jewels babe all i'm takin is this song

gee but it's hard to love you babe when i know you don't love me
i've been mistrusted heartbroken too like a rock cast in the sea
once i came home every night wishin i'd find you there
now when i see your charming face my heart aches in despair

Watershed Song 
My days and nights at the Watershed Center for Ceramic Arts in Newcastle, Maine over the last two summers were some of the most beautiful I've spent. Watershed is one of those places that just buzz with a uniquely infectious and positive energy. It takes only a few hours there to realize this and to feel at home. During work week at the beginning and end of each summer energetic people are free to stay, eat great food, and work in clay, in exchange for six hours of labor each day. We cleaned out the old factory building, washed endless piles of buckets, built and repaired furniture, painted walls, planted gardens, cleaned the dormitories and the kitchen cupboards, and we dug, hammer-milled, mixed, pugged and bagged hundreds of pounds of earthenware clay off of the hill by the old converted-brick-factory building. My creative life was revitalized by the place and by the amazing friends I met there. This is about one of those people.

out of the smoke like the sky falling like the sea calling
you walked up to me grinning away like you'd done it all day
i was talking to him when you walked in you walked down the hall
but as you passed by my brain got a shock my mind hit a rock
the first night i followed you down watched your fingers surround that clay like a crown
in my voice i tried to name my love for your game and my joy that you came

in the old factory we labored each day pushing dirt mixing clay
i saw from the mess on your arms and chest how you labored for what you loved best
each night i asked you for more of your time and your mind and your hands as a guide
it was almost too much you're too soft to touch too kind to tell what's on your mind
in the darkness we walked to the hill and laid ourselves out like an unspoken shout
each piece of space trash that fell in the sky so high was cause for a sigh

what is the name for what you're giving to me
what is this dream that we call living?

one night i had to sleep outside you offered me your tent shelter from the sky
coyotes cried in the woods nearby i was alone in the place where you should lie
i think that you were afraid for me but also afraid that i would see
by the look in your eye as i asked why that you could not care for me
you said you were afraid of the dark but went off anyway and alone i stayed
in the dark we feel alone in the world well that what we are we can't hide that scar
you said some of the nicest things when the impulse was strong but that couldn't last long
when i was leaving you looked disbelieving and your eyes may have been gray or gone

what is the name for what you're giving to me
what is this dream that we call living?

It'll Be Alright 
This is my riff on the old-time-country song motif. It came to me spontaneously after watching a Johnny Cash biography a few years ago. Less than ten minutes went into writing the words, and the melody was already there, waiting to be plucked like a feather out of the air.

come on over, come on down
any way you come, stick around
i need you to hold me tight
if you have to lie just tell me it'll be alright

it'll be alright, yes, it'll be alright
any time, place, country, day or night
it'll be alright, i know it will
if i have your arms to hold me still

meet me in back after the show
meet me in the alley in pouring rain or snow
if my daddy's there you may have to fight
make sure you win then tell me it'll be alright

it'll be alright, yes, it'll be alright
any time, place, country, day or night
it'll be alright, and i'll be good
if you stand by me when i say you should

if you get lonesome, and you surely will
that's when i'll show up on your Duracell
i may not bring flowers or fancy wine
but i'll find a way to tell you it'll be alright

it'll be alright, yes, it'll be alright
any time, place, country, day or night
it'll be alright, even if it's not
cause i'll be yours when that's all you've got

come on over, it's one of those days
when i want nothing but you to come my way
i don't ask much, just for your heart
but if you tell me it'll be alright, that's a start

it'll be alright, yes, it'll be alright
any time, place, country, day or night
it'll be alright, just take my word
cause that'd be the best news i've ever heard

Crying With The Moon 
My mother calls this "the song about me". That is accurate in some ways, but it's also about me, and about all of my friends, and about all women who have been strong enough not to apologize. The song is about being a woman, being charmed by women, as well as awed, intimidated and inspired by them. I hope listeners both male and female might hear something familiar in these lines.

yes, i love a woman, yes i need a woman
i want to be a woman someday
i was born of woman, spent nine months swimming
that was the beginning of me
yes, i like to see you, and i'll try to free you
of the fear of what you can't see
the fear that starts with sorrow
because you had to let go
of the woman who brought you here

we are made of mud and bones
we are made of sighs and groans
we are laughing like the loon
we are crying with the moon

why do i apologize when dust gets in my eyes
i guess i must be in the wrong place
why do we compare our sizes, enter compromises
of the mind and of the face
when our hearts are open sometimes darkness steps in
then it looks like we're alone
that's when i need a woman
and i get to be the woman
to cry on my shoulder and take myself home

refrain

the night i first saw her i felt like a daughter
of her smile that held me like a child
i wished that i could be her so i could know and see her
and touch the faces that i hide
when she took me inside i melted like a snow slide
my knees weak but i am strong
she made me see myself
for once i could be myself
that's when i knew that they were wrong

refrain

my mother had a mother crippled like her daughter
she could not be the woman she once was
my mother doubled her fears by waiting fifty long years
to know the warmth of woman's love
she took her worried sorrow and gave me my tomorrow
by being brave enough to care
so i know we need women to laugh and give their being
to give more than any arms can bear

refrain

The Way of Innocence 
In much of my song writing I'm pretty obsessed with freedom and desire. The desire is for connection, intimacy and understanding, physical, emotional, and intellectual. The freedom is that of self-expression, outlawed by governments and religions all over the world, but supposedly not within the borders of this particular country. In order to express our desires, we must be free. Communication between people is complicated and intriguing, yet should be so simple. If there is any place where we should be free to act upon desire it is in the smallest actions of our everyday, with friends and family, and with lovers. Though there are many who don't have a safe place for such expression, each action taken by those who do helps make that the norm, and eventually will break down the walls with which oppression is constructed.
This song is based on themes and characters from the novel The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton. The setting is early twentieth century New York, a society still dominated by Victorian ideals. Though it is historical, I find the story still compelling.

the older ladies kept the time in drawing rooms with tea-stained smiles
murmuring of humanity with equal parts disgust and pity
the question of the girl down the street was raised from beneath those dainty feet
the rudeness of her loving glances towards mister archer at the city dances

lydia cared for archer from the start, her shameless eyes had won his heart
but how could he respect such a girl, the ladies sighed as tea leaves swirled
lydia never relied on chance or on circumstance to guide her
she believed that life transpired in response to instinct and desire

archer belonged to a class which locked its passion behind fogged glass
sentiment and sincerity did not make for good company
when lydia and archer met she spoke to him, he kissed her hand
then left her with the silence of a winter night and the coldness of his front porch light

archer dreamt alone that night of the glory of speaking the truth outright
what a dream to speak that way, too tender for the harsh light of day
he'd take her life but spill no blood, speak in riddle but not in love
for scandal would put him in despair and what could he offer her from there

lydia never looked at fate as master, rather a friend to steer her vessel
but all the brilliance of her eyes could not tear the cloak of his lies
society was his true bride, the guilty mistress of his pride
and human hands could never match the deathless name his plans would catch

it's the way of innocence to keep the mind from imagination
what is the price we spend to guard the heart against elation
let the jokers keep their lies and all the sorrows that they hide
let the careful hold their tongues, never mourn what's never begun

Love Song Too 
If the Stephin Merritt can fill three albums with sixty-nine fantastic, never-redundent love songs, one more from me can't hurt, right? The most recently written song on Flying Through, this one was composed in September of 2001. The worry that there is not enough time to do all of the things I dream of is the motivation for as well as the subject of this song.

i have a love song too
never has it been sung before
i have one made for you
after this there are so many more

i have a shelf all full of books
which i did intend to read
now they stand out like so many hooks
tearing at my hope for you and me

there is always time
so much more than me and you
have the time to keep track of
so we keep spending
but if this time were mine
and if our life were a story
it would be too long to tell
we¹d be a book without an ending

i have two eyes of blue
they are longing to see
if yours are green or black or brown
won't you open them to me

i have a love song too
never has it been sung before
i have one made for you
after this there are so many more