Some days creativity is like the California drought. I sit down to write, and no rain falls. But wanting to post something, I reach into my personal, secret archive of treasures, which for 2015 opens publicly. Sporadically, over the past six weeks, I posted lyrics to three songs: “Disco Queen“, “Empire State“, and “Surrealistic Pillow“—all written in the late 1970s. Today’s contribution is quite a bit newer but still not recent: March 27, 2004, finished at 12:30 a.m. ET. Others lyrics will follow over the months ahead.
This verse stands without melody and, honestly, lacks reading rhythm that would make a good song. Like most of my lyrics, the subject is a young woman—no one I know, and from none inspired. The only inspiration here is the dusty basement office where I worked, where unwelcome late-night pests came out of hiding.
Illustrating this post proved quite challenging. I chose the photo for its artistry, even though it doesn’t reflect the woman i envisioned and might taint your perspective of whom she should be (based on your imagination). But what the Hell; the pic is classy.
Dank Deep Eyes the Darkness
Wiry and stickly, the cricket tears up the wall
The musty broom she swings at him, does no good at all
From the dust she sneezes before her weapon falls
Dank deep eyes the darkness
Filled with hallow harkens
In the corner, its spidery mate calls
From the dusk she climbs to reach the cellar door
A scent of lilac and she thinks of a time before
When 5-year old Lacy through the stairway soared
Dank deep eyes the darkness
Filled with hallow harkens
She stops and cries some more
A shaft of light the morning
Like the darkness of her mind
Stirs the dust she settled
In the corner she finds
The crevices where she retreats
To hide behind
Where once great love I had for her
Is nothing of the kind
On the kitchen table carved, more than two thousand names
She saved up for him, the baby never came
Each and every one of them like the other is the same
Dank deep eyes the darkness
Filled with hallow harkens
She lowers her head in shame
Smooth the glass she touches, breaks within her hand
The will squeezes tighter against the red she cannot stand
The color mother favored, the bitter fruit she canned
Dank deep eyes the darkness
Filled with hallow harkens
The cut’s deeper now than Stacy planned
A shaft of light the morning
Like the darkness of her mind
Stirs the dust she settled
In the corner she finds
The crevices where she retreats
To hide behind
Where once great love I had for her
Is nothing of the kind
©2004 Joe Wilcox
Note: The lyric’s copyright is one of this blog’s exceptions: All Rights Reserved. Because the work as presented here is only partial. Melody is to be written.
Photo Credit: Andrew Squires