Song du Jour

I used to do this journal elsewhere called Song du Jour. I would write a song a week and perform it this local bar. Well, I stopped doing that. But I just finished a song today and it felt a bit like that fall. Because Huck Slim is going to perform it tonight!

(New song applause.)(When you do the open mic at Sidewalk, Lach always says that if you are doing a new song. Which I agree with, you need obligatory new song applause.) Anyway, it’s a tune I started writing the other week and I had a melody and some ideas about what it might be. And then I played it for the Huck dudes, and Flynn asked what the title was. I wasn’t sure yet. He suggested, “The Fry Cook’s Lament”. And on the basis of that, I rewrote it and we came up with a little story too. It’s about a fry cook who’s fed up with things on a Saturday night. Anyway… here it is. If you are around Times Square tonight, you can come hear it performed live!

The Fry Cook’s Lament
You can’t help but see table three
A girl with a guy who looks like me
But here’s the point you see I’m over here
I’m frying fish and cooking burgers instead
They’re playing footsee under the table
She’s got her hands on his thighs
He made a joke, you can tell
‘Cause she’s laughing like hell

If I look tired, then know this
I’m just tired of bullshit
Of the same story, every week

Endless dates of romantic situation
While I cook up their food, is there any indication of..?

Just another heart on a Saturday night
Now, I’m watching a father and a son
He’s got a baseball cap on, he plays for the Mets
It’s a Little League Party
They celebrate their win

With pizzas and coke and all of that shit
But it makes me think
Will that ever be me?
Could I have a son?
Or has my race been run?

If I look tired, then know this
I’m just tired of little kids
Of those little joys, every week
Those happy people mocking me and…

Just another heart on a Saturday night

You’d have to say he was pushing 70
And his gal isn’t far behind
They’ve got the corner booth, all to themselves

It’s 4 o’clock,
They’re sharing a crueller
It’s a crueler than you’d think
Watching her with her fell’r

There’s one thing worse than getting old
That’s being alone
‘Cause the nights draw out
Like you’re pulling a string

If I look tired, then know this
I’m just tired of old friends
Of those Currier & Ives bullshit
Those happy people mocking me and…
Just another heart on a Saturday Night