I Work All Day
(and then I cry all night)
words and music
by Justice Putnam
I work all day
And then I cry all night
I work all day
With lots of
Overtime
Something
Just doesn't
Seem quite right
I work all day
And then I cry all night
I heard you say
Our love ain't right
That echo played
Deep throughout
My mind
Something
Just doesn't
Seem quite right
I work all day
And then I cry all night
(Darlin'
I still see you
Through my tears
Walkin' past
The Byzantine Church
In St. Ceneri
Or through
The ruins
Beneath the Louvre)
The years have passed
And I'm still blue
I have many tasks
To keep from thinking
Of you
But something
Just doesn't
Seem quite right
I work all day
And then I cry all night
Something
Just doesn't
Seem quite right
I work all day
And then I cry all night
© 2003 Justice Putnam
Fleur du Sel Musique
and Mechanisches Strophe-Verlagswesen
What might happen if the tables are turned on us? I can imagine what might happen if instead of the trek north; to find work, all of us must go:
South of the Border
words and music
by Justice Putnam
(A folksy blues Dmaj→Am throughout)
I’m playing my cadenza
In a boxcar near Del Mar
Tomorrow
I’ll have to pitch a tent
What little was
Of my pension
I just had to cash in
And then it was
Immediately spent
(By going south of the border
South of the border
South of the border
Going south
South of the border
South of the border
South of the border
Going south)
I can cobble shoes
To last half a lifetime
Manufacture steel
That would never
Show a dent
But the buyers
Of the company
Said they found
A better way
For the stockholder’s monies
To be spent
(By going south of the border
South of the border
South of the border
Going south
South of the border
South of the border
South of the border
Going south)
I went from Bangor
All the way to San Diego
Every where the same story
Of the jobs
Just up and went
How our Country
Is now a Homeland
Our children have
Turned to Soldiers
They’ve just been
Ordered by the President
(To go south of the border
South of the border
South of the border
Going south
South of the border
South of the border
South of the border
Going south)
Maybe I’ll wear
A white linen suit
Like Malcolm Lowry
Maybe I’ll attain
An affectation and
Diplomat air
When my days
Are numbered
And my time is at hand
Would the Country
Or the Company
Even care
(That I died south of the border
I died
South of the border
I died
Going south)
© 2003 Justice Putnam
Fleur du Mal Musique
and Mechanisches Strophe-Verlagswesen
I make no judgements about how we toil, but I am still saddened by the pain endured:
She Looks Familiar To Me
words and music
by Justice Putnam
I've seen her serve tea
In Hawaii
Pour an oil slow massage
In Denver
Her henna painted foot
On a Moroccan
Mosaic floor.
A walk through
The Tenderloin
In latex
A North Beach
Dance behind glass
A motel neon
Fading on a
Red door.
(The streets of Portland
The booths of Amsterdam
The canopies of tapestry
In Bangalore)
She hides tears
Of memory
With a touch
And a fragile
Invincibility
Yet
She looks
Familiar to me.
(It's not because
Of fantasy
That I see her
In the places
That I go
But something more
Recognizant
As family
A survivor sadness
And a strength
On the road.)
She hides tears
Of memory
With a touch
And a fragile
Invincibility
Yet
She looks
Familiar to me.
© 2005 Justice Putnam
Fleur du Sel Musique
and Mechanisches Strophe-Verlagswesen
No one can escape, whether you are tired from back-breaking work or a hot sunny day of leisure:
It Matters Not What You Do
words and music
by Justice Putnam
I am fucked
And so are you
I am fucked
And so are you
It matters not
What you do
It matters not
What’s your view
It doesn’t change
The fact
That
I am fucked
And so are you!
You might work
All your life
To buy for that
Child and beautiful wife
You might fail and
Live in nothing bigger
Than a shoe
It matters not
What you do
It matters not
What’s your view
It doesn’t change
The fact
That
I am fucked
And so are you!
You might be
A healthy specimen
An Amazon among women
Men might flock
To get a better view
It matters not
What you do
It matters not
What’s your view
It doesn’t change
The fact
That
I am fucked
And so are you!
People might run
And hide
When you
Beg for an
Alm on the side
Or you might
Be the landlord
Collecting rents
Overdue
It matters not
What you do
It matters not
What’s your view
It doesn’t change
The fact
That
I am fucked
And so are you!
I am fucked
And so are you!
It doesn’t change
The fact
That
I am fucked
And so are you!
(fortissimo)
© 2006 by Justice Putnam
Fleur de Sel Musique
and Mechanisches-Strophe Verlagswesen
