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Physics Says

by Jon Hughes

I'll be down in somber city where sad sad people go With all the other people I don't know. Listening to conversations I've already been told— Talk of how the news is better old. Sleeping with strangers passing time, Passing in and out of days, Hazy in and out of mind. Sole resistance understood Will keep the distance as it should Between your universe and mine. I could sing the self-evaded persistence of a dream And loneliness is all that you would see. We could call a subtle difference a similarity Until there's nothing left of you and me. Save for a safe identity, A sell-a-lie security, We are colder than our bones. Someone saw a place and called it home Somewhere far away from me With a future of it's own. Say that one of yours is one of mine, But it was a name it wasn't me— It was a better-left-behind. Sleeping with strangers passing time...
Honeysuckle 04:58
Honeysuckle wants to write the songs that everybody's heard, No matter how contrived there's no one who remembers all the words. He'll be another star I wouldn't listen to When he's coming through The satellite. And his lover shakes tobacco ashes from her honey hair, And there's a twinkle in her eye and I believe I put it there. She's just another star He wouldn't listen to When she's passing through The satellite. Honeysuckle tells his lawyers he'll be buried in the ground, And in the television fashion photo archives he'll be found. Like a picture on a kite Back to me and you When he's coming through The satellite.
Physics Says 03:21
Physics Says Neil's coming through The transistor tubes In the corner of the room where he shakes The vacuum tube Over by your shoes To greet you when you wake From the myriad of nightmares He must have felt that he put there, So the air in the room would be Nothing he'd be putting on you... And the television turns on. Now he's taking all The photos off the wall And putting them away in the flues Above your bed Howling now instead Of the things he couldn't say From a body that was still warm, That was a burden in your arms; Physics says it's proved there'd be Nothing he'd be putting on you... And the television turns off. Taxi passes through And everything that moves Is silenced in the wake; But above the blues Of the electric avenue His face is taking shape, Like a thundercloud in Phoenix, Almost had something to believe in; Head down and holding his face... And the television turns on...
The Sons of Sunday Headlines Lady XYZ is walking east to west on Tuesday for her second in the week; And the church bell's ringing serotonin For the others who can comprehend the street; And her mother stands behind the smoky Yellow shade of every window that she sees; And out of all the figures of her spatial Recognition she's the only memory; I felt lost for her and now I'm losing all my nerve. Naked soldiers eulogised, "The Sons of Sunday Headlines" For the fourth day in the week; And obituaries of the Dead and dying architects are Buried underneath; Now the telephone is ringing-- Bad news on the interstate for given family-- And out of all the brothers and the Sons of Sunday headlines I'm the Only it could be; I felt lost for them and now I'm head beyond the bend... I felt lost for them and now I can't feel anything.
Most of us are waiting for a train to take us where No one criticizes anyone for not trying to care About the evening news And the subterfuge Of progressive times. They say in breathing there's a bear in all of us— Hairy windows with eyes alike to soften them up, Like a mother cow, Often serious In besotting us. Now, all say what Everyone, in thinking, is perceiving as such. They say in reason there are things that make us blue, And time and temperature lend an infinity of reasons to choose, For being scared Or filled up to the teeth With anxiety. So take a train via you don't remember where. Only remember there's no reason for pretending to care About digressive times With your knees against the wall, Standard protocol. Now all say what Everyone, in thinking, is perceiving as such. No one cares less Than those who tear their hearts out in believing it.
Figures of Speech (The Seasons of Christ) I was born Of the breath Of the dog I knew best; His name Was Me He learned to hide He learned to seek; 'Til all That he sought Was just less Of what he thought; And all That he knew Was less of me And more of you. Now the pictures are pains, Are corporeal stains, Like the seasons of Christ, Never wrong and never right For what we believe Is collectively perceived For those who agree Upon a common way to see; And only for shame Is the body he became Out of mind. There's a spot On the wall That we don't know What to call; There's a corpse Of a ball That's not spherical at all; There's a way about the stars That reminds me of car Headlights in the dark When they twinkle from afar; There's looks that you don, Unwittingly put on, Like silver on a pond, Just there, then gone; But the mind is less Of a well than a nest, A blessing professed By those who handled it best; And only for shame Is the notion it became Out of mind. Is it weird Or is it strange To be a number And a name On a page That you claim To reserve For those who came And stayed for a while To keep you warm, to keep you high To keep you beside Yourself in your pride? There's spaces in my teeth When there's nothing in between Where animals breathe In figures of speech.
Our Lady of Guadalupe (Will Come) Fire sparks in sandalwood tear jerks So our lady of Guadalupe will come And kiss my hands They're cracked and broken From being in places They shouldn't have been. And Sister Mary Cellar just smiles off As we collectively thumb Through magazine stock Of apple-skinned pages Of things we didn't And wished we had done. Candle smoke for candlestick walls dear 'Til our lady of Guadalupe comes And cleans our hearts Of residual horrors From being in places We shouldn't have been. Cause all that's in an echo is noise here Under the clerestory sun Where light rays span To look like glory But flicker too often For fooling anyone. I'll be in and out of my head, dear— Myself and another at once— A waggly eye, For one to look after, Or for what it shakes off, Off with a shudder When the looking is done. And you shall see what is murder When our lady of Guadalupe comes And kisses my hands, They've cracked and broken The things they were after And shouldn't have been.
Lazy plays. She plays upon the moon, To a dark and dreadful tune. She relates How the preacher of the day Said the end is coming soon, And all the audience can see Is that the audience is me— Wide cavity-eyed and tame, And pretending just the same. Hot light plays. It plays upon the walls To a dusty windowsill. A waitress strays From the coins left on the bill, And the tune is humming still. And inattention is theme Of the play she's giving me— Obvious and strange, It continues just the same. I forgot All the things she said she thought In a diner parking lot. She was tea And easy on the cream And I was playing what I'm not. Cause when all the audience is me, I'm all the audience can see— Wide cavity-eyed and lame And pretending just the same. When this day's complete, I'll be any day of the week; And when that day is done, Then I'll be my own setting sun.
Old Friends 03:55
Old Friends Old friends of dead men are plying my salary And I would kiss their swollen feet; But most of them are nothing more than a salary Of a larger sum than what I'd be. And all my friends would say that I lost all my dignity If they were making more than me; So happenstance has made us all into enemies, At least in what we've happened to come to believe. Old loves unconsciously have made us all afraid Of being more than what we see. Now we'll never stop selling all our aspirations off For what we think we really need. The better end of pink pills were making me feel again Like more than what I paid for them. And no consent to whom I was done away with them, Who was more of what he made that week. 'Til settled scenes of supple comfort ability Were more than I could afford to be. And time spent in scratch and sniff curiosity Was given to behavioral qualities. Oh well, I'll be resting easy as the second to my last priority when old friends come along to see me and we breathe into the spaces inbetween.
I Wouldn't Dance For You I couldn't dance on cue Or any of the other things you want me to do, And everything I say to you is never getting through, So I'll just stop bothering you. If the only thing that I've ever known Is wanting to write a happy song and call it my own, Some days it seems like everyone is handing you a bone And no one is calling you home. I couldn't climb up the walls, Or make myself seem interested with alcohol. For everything you say, well, I could say nothing at all, But I couldn't climb down from this wall. And if you really want to know the truth, I'd be more than happy to forget about you. You'll never see any of things that I could do, Cause I couldn't dance for you. You've confused me with someone who has something to prove, someone who'd dance for you.
Cold and Blue In these harbors The water seems much too blue And I can't help but see you In the reflection; Cheeks all a stipple, Eyes open to a ripple Pull me down Into you-- And open boat parties Remind me that I'm here and Talking to My reflection-- Calculates the years that Pass between these whispering Souls I forgot, And now they're Sold, Sold or bought, Old or used. Titletown Was built here to break your Heart in every littered Parking lot And park, Open every season, Open for the, "Please miss Me's When you leave." Joe Elmer's in the back seat, Driving down Pedestrian streets. He calculates the years that Pass between these glass-eyed Souls I forgot, And now they're Sold, Sold or bought, Old or used. I recall This used to be the place where The girl with the blond haired Face sang The willow songs Up against the chainlink, Good for letting air pass Through The neighbors yard Where dead and floating sturgeon Are gaping at the surface, Death was chlor- ine induced; And the water comprehends the Sky when they're screaming for the Souls I forgot; And now I am as, As they say, Cold and blue.
Spin Away 06:10
Spin Away She carries numbers and she drops names. She draws pictures but they're all so predictable and plain, Of stick white houses where she might live With some CEO who knows and sees what she could give to him. My tongue was twisted, numb from Hennessy, But darling you're not coming home with me; Cause there is nothing here as obvious as it might seem. She got married on Aesop's plain Where it seems like things are happening but things don't ever change. They took pictures before they came, So when things get out of focus the cameraman's to blame. Her tongue was twisted, tight around the seams, But there is nothing else she says to me But "I'm not quite so obvious as I might seem." Spin resistance or spin away. Now she's sold herself for love and she'll be okay. If you're spinning a Sunday dream, So predictable and obvious as it might seem, Drop you're name and your number to someone like me.
Venus is Cold I can't stand on these thin soup legs again. Hache is frio and what she says I am I am. Hache is frio and what she says I am I am. And she wants to give her love away to a thin moustachioed man, but everything she says to him is on the other hand. She makes it seem like everything's so hard to understand, cause hache is frio and what she says I am I am. I can't stand on these thin soup legs, man. To their appeal on my knees and hands I stand. To their appeal on my knees and hands I stand. And the pincers are the best part of her big pistachio plan, but those that fall from Venus, we can leave them where they land. The space there in the corner, save it for the asteroid band. To my lady prostrate, on my broken hands I stand.
Heard 02:58
Heard I'll probably get myself murdered before I get myself heard, And I don't think I'd mind. I'm gonna get myself murdered before I get myself heard. I'm not gonna get myself a Mercedes. I'm not gonna get myself a car, Because I don't think I'd drive. I'm not gonna get myself a Mercedes, I'm gonna get myself a bird.
Anything You Please Stars are staring dogged-eyed and dead upon the hill When they greet you at your windowsill; And if you haven't seen those eyes before you know you never will. Someone on the other side is waking from a dream Of being someone whom he's never seen; Something even simple as a whisper in the breeze, Or just anything you please. Everything is changing on this crowded carousel— Call it a revolution so it sells. Say it's a necessity and I'll say it's just as well. Call it a disaster and I'm calling it a swell— Call it a revolution so it sells. Call it anything you'd like and I'll call it something else Just to call it something else.


released May 5, 2007


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Jon Hughes Ireland

American songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, Jon Hughes, has been based in Ireland since 2005. He has shared a stage with Damien Jurado, She Keeps Bees, and the legendary singer-songwriter, Buddy Mondlock.

Hughes' latest collection of songs, "Sunshine Remorse", was released in January of 2019.
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