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.
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....more