Back to Old Habits

And now I’m back to old habits

Reaching back to that place

I’ve been such a long time ago

Back to old habits

Down that same old road

Going nowhere just like I’ve done before

Back to old habits

Carry me back to my silent tribe

Lead the way with what’s left of your flame

I can’t be tomorrow what I can’t be today

So if it’s at all the same to you

I guess it’s for me it’s the same old same

And now I’m back to old habits

Reaching back to that place

I’ve been such a long time ago

Back to old habits

Down that same old road

Going nowhere just like I’ve done before

Back to old habits

Carry me back to my favorite secret place

Far from the curse of the Texas desert wind

For me it’s always been a much safer place to hang

So if it’s all the same to you

I guess for me it’s the same old same

And now I’m back to old habits

Reaching back to that place

I’ve been such a long time ago

Back to old habits

Down that same old road

Going nowhere just like I’ve done before

Back to old habits

stupid boy

Don’t be a stupid boy, again

Don’t be a stupid boy

Like you always seem to be

Before you lose your nerve, completely

Before you lose your nerve

Just turn and walk out the door

Your harbor is a mystery to me

I can’t seem to get it off my mind

These harbor red skies are breaking the night

If I find myself lost I know I’ll be fine

In my boat out at sea

With any luck the rain will cease

With any luck

the storm will let us be

Before I lose my nerve, completely

Before I lose my nerve

I’ll jump ship and swim back to your shore

Your harbor is a mystery to me

I can’t seem to get it off my mind

These harbor red skies are breaking the night

If I find myself lost I know I’ll be fine

When you lean over and whisper to me

Don’t be a stupid boy, please

I’m going to try not to be

The stupid boy

it comes in red

if you like the writings, maybe you’ll like the sounds.

http://levitroy.googlepages.com/music

Arc

She lived on an old country road

in the bad part of town

but the people that knew of her

never knew her to frown.

From time to time she’d wander

from field and back to home

and people often wondered

about the little girl named Joan.

And with them she wondered

about the secrets of the world

and she made plans to start out

and to make those mysteries unfurl.

But she got shot down in Cleveland

and left to rot in Amsterdam.

She burned in Oklahoma

and lynched in ole Luisian’.

And the people often wonder

will she ever rise again, this little girl named Joan.

She hid out in the plains of the west

far from where she was known.

She kept to herself on the back end

of an old and winding country road.

From time to time she’d wander

from field and back to home

and people often wondered

about the old woman they called Joan.

They’ve written songs about her,

one’s she’s never heard,

and in them they all wonder

about the secrets of this Joan.

She was painted in New York

and erected in St. Paul.

She inspired a drunken poet

on the banks of South Bend Wichita.

And the people often wonder

will she ever rise again,

this woman they called Joan.