"Mr. Hardy's Love Songs" (Album Outtake)

Heaven can wait till when I’m ready
Boys like me, well, they rock steady
Steady as it goes, easy does it now
But it’s not easy if time runs out
So here I am, again my friend
Rewriting the novel’s climatic end
And tearing out pages you know that I
Cannot and will not be satisfied
In the courtyards of my mind
Well, I see him there each night
His golden eyes, my bleeding pen
I’m standing at his door again
A barefoot gypsy with no remorse
For riding on this winged horse…


Write me a song, Mr. Hardy
Write me a song so sweet
You may not have the melody
But play me anything.
Write me a song, Mr. Hardy
Like you did the other men
The ones that you won’t discuss
Goodnight and Amen.


Well shame it is a wrinkled dance
You can dance around the chance
That you might find your north star
I found mine in the back of his car
So naive I was and I gave him
The tastes of all my southern whim
And from the apple blossoms he drank in
The useless memories that bleed my skin.
Riding on myth and old charade
I dance a summer promenade
To a scene not far away
Where an old tin roof holds the stars in place
And silence dances to the cadence cries
Of all my sad goodbyes




Write them a song, Mr. Hardy
Write them songs so nice
Lay the cards out on the table
And roll those fucking dice
Write them a song, Mr. Hardy
You sentimental guy
Your intent to fall in love,
Well its dashed, and it has died

All along the orchard row….
There is a fruit which  does not grow.
It smells of need
And tastes of want…
It must be the fruit that god forgot.
And I am fruit so blistered sore
Blistered since I was born.
Broken and weary a window waits
For the empty window….
Is my soul mate….


Write me a song, Mr. Hardy
Write me a song brand new
One I’ve never heard before
And I will cherish you…
Write me a song, Mr. Hardy
Cos I’m the one you need
I’ve come to take you away at last
Giddy up, horse, god speed….

Heaven can wait till when I’m done
Tilting my arrow to the sun
Mistakes are made and are forgotten
The smell of you, now it is rotten
 That shirt in my closet so stained with sin
Is the shirt that our, our love died in...

-Copyright FenixMuzik 2009.