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The Better Of

by Bob Gaulke

/
1.
New York is a Bone Out to meet a friend in outer space
I call him and say I’ve worn out my name On walls and faces in voices and streets In too many situations not of my making I’m feeling so much better after a smoke and drink Cuts and scars are blotted in ink Tourists with headaches cattle in taxis
Eight million hands writing one story New York is a bone carved on a stone
Worn through your nose scratching your soul Out to meet a friend for a little comedy She calls and says she’s living the dream In meetings at parties in clubs and limousines Touching lives of quality I’m feeling so much better then she disappears
Into her phone, billboards, and mirrors I want to see my time hold it my hands Everything at once is shaken in a glass Home for the evening the phone rings
The voice of your mom asks how’s everything “It couldn’t be better it’s moving
thanks for the letter and the money” I’m feeling so much better inside my window
Music covers shouting below Four thousand cupcakes an ocean of milk
Eight million paper plates in the same bin
2.
Stranger at the Party Seems to know someone Smiling at the hostess Not moving from the punch Cornering cupcakes Nodding approval Snorting news relayed Hoovering removal Of the salmon paté Stranger at the party swallowing bodies Aiming righteous anger between their legs She’s come in late Caught in the rain Straight to the kitchen For a plate Thrice-gifted wine Making up lost time “Pass the joint- Your thumb’s flambéed” Hostess brings coats At half-past four Stains on the floor Must be the last straw
3.
Cat Samba 01:45
Cat Samba Swear by the count He’s gone past ten You'd be wrong Time and time again Watch him jump Tree to tree to tree Hear the cans roll Down the street None of my business  What he's in Just a witness To shenanigans Where he's gone I wouldn't hazard a guess He always seems To bury his mess Kitties in the hood Bring ‘em birds Wrapped in leaves The cat always lands On his feet Down a sewer pipe Up a dead end Swipin’ fish Swingin’ that tail Followed by dogs Not his friends Everyone wants His business sense Staying cool Despite the dread Keeping that beat Between his legs Shaking nine lives Like a bell Arching his back Everyone’s still Between the trap and mouse Poison and the roach Patient and the couch There's an understanding  Your luck will run out You’ll be there for the count When the man cues up The heavy strings D | C | G | A G | A
4.
5.
Saved Valentines (A major-ish) I don't fall for schemes, plastic dreams Few people go below the packaging Phones fit nicely in our hands They don't come with conversations In this city there's a place I know Where people let their feelings show At least for a couple of drinks Everything's revealed On Valentine's Day I was saved On Valentine's Day it all changed It only takes one and your heart's undone Too late to wonder what you've become Saint Valentine was a friend of mine Breathing poetry on the lower east side Whispering things unsaid When I needed to be read In this city nothing sticks 'til it comes at you between the ribs Your heart's so hungry for it Once you've had it, you never forget it
6.
Mutual Savings (E lydian minor) I saved you from that guy from talking suicide I don’t think he was worth the Netflix renewal You saved me from myself; tinder girls as well Who kept me out well past my curfew We spent our savings on each other Although we were never lovers Comrades in a life stuck in fast-forward We blew it on vacations, wine, and overnight shipments I’ll save you from this boredom without a name Seeing millions making the same mistakes You’ll save me from a fatalism biblical in depth Suggesting there’s been no progress thousands of tears since We spent our savings in a single moment As soon as we realized we could never own it We spent our savings on one last bar of chocolate I licked your fingers then we climbed that hill
7.
Island of Men You left me on the Island of Men Me and four guys that can't swim We feast on your memory with pieces of fruit cake We remember your skin Rubbing our hands in fits It's phosphorescent in our minds It burns an obscure fire Spending the night rolling cigarettes Sucking butts to the lipstick Taking turns with your dress Putting a fold in the photograph You left me on the Island of Men The silence abuses your memory Nothing's left of the tin I’ve become the fruitcake We've got ugly routines We use to pass the time Reenacting painful scenes Pretending to solve emotional crimes/ Kevin takes me out on your birthday Robbie takes off your glasses to kiss me— There's nothing like Parris Island In the springtime I remember Christmas Rafael's playing Jesus Making love to your stereo Ryan wears the leotard Ultimately we know why we're here But not when We'll ever be trusted around women again
8.
Disco Nomads You were made for dancing There's nothing else you need Reason don't travel Beneath your feet Philosophy's senseless Poets are weak Internet's useless Money's just not funky Come up go down Day in and out From your soles to the clouds Turn your insides out Tension builds With nowhere to go You've read about it Now feel the love Running always running, That's so obsolete The body takes over Now you're complete Cut off from above We've been on our own too long Can't remember where we're going Or where in fact we're from Following a distant star Into a poorly lit bar Matching scars with disco nomads Making love with gin and scotch
9.
Sharpening Knives The job paid eight dollars an hour In a dark room filled with shiny things They cut the lights, saving power Me and a hundred men that didn’t speak A blade over flint on a conveyor Two in a minute pointed and clean Polishing metal to a sharp edge For cutting and slicing meat Sharpening knives sharpening knives That’s what I did with my life Sharpening knives sharpening knives That’s how I survived There's a rhythm louder and faster There's a rhythm that cuts your head The sound of two hundred hands desperate Heat and sparks like creation itself Drunk on the sound, the pounding of metal Intoxicating slavery Like a love that stays on too long Something cut out the heart of me I woke one morning unable to move I woke one morning unable to speak Sounds had filled me with fear Standing up made me weak I haven’t worked since then I rely on my wits and the generosity of women Sometimes I wonder what I've done with myself Other times I’m glad I survived
10.
Handfuls 03:30
Handfuls You go to that place too much But never get quite drunk enough To pull yourself out of yourself Start by being cynical You'll wind up an asshole All alone texting at the table Tact's never gotten me far Only so many bed's in the hospital Start on those people over there They're as bored and ugly as you are Try to have a good time Forget what's on your mind Sing and dance for a while Although it's so painful Recipes for falling down Are in short supply I've got handfuls You've got to be rude politeness won't do Tomorrow we die fast or slow we can't rely On miracles of science to prolong this boredom Don't hide your pleasures where you can't find them Night fever's coming on your brain's useless in the dark Hold something now tight enough to make sparks Meteors are streaking volcanoes are exploding You'll be preserved in stone picking your nose No matter how desperate you are there's someone lower level Who admires your clothes There’s a saying at the cemetery days above ground are good days Soon we'll be going so say what you're gotta say

about

All the invisible hits.

credits

released February 14, 2024

Bob Gaulke: Vocals, Bass (3-5) Guitar (1,2,4,7,10) Keyboards (4)
Vivian Benford: Vocals (5)
Matt Carrillo: Keyboards & Saxes (1,7, 9,10)
Emilia Cataldo: Vocals (1, 3, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10)
Kevin Cerovich: Drums & Trombones (2, 3, 6, 8)
Kenny Coleman: Guitars (3, 6, 8)
Leon Gruenbaum: Keyboards (2, 3, 6, 8)
Adam Kabak: Contrabass (1,6)
Marcos Kuzka: Basses & Keyboards (7, 8)
Benoît LeDévédec: Guitars (1)
Paulo LePetit: Basses (2,9,10)
Greg Odell: Drums & Percussion (4,5)
Gil Oliveira: Drums & Percussion (1, 7, 9, 10)
Marco Raaphorst: Guitars (4, 5, 9, 10)
Mike Rose: Keyboards (5)
Michael Vlatkovich: Trombone (4)

Martin Scian: Mixing

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Bob Gaulke

SInger/Songwriter/
Rootless cosmopolitan. I sometimes produce others.

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