B. J. York
was born of relationships, an area of life that is both telling
and teaching. These songs touch the process of beginning,
changing, ending, looking back, and moving forward, that is
significant to all of us.
CD available at Borders Books and Music
Sweet Cut – (Track One)
B.J.York
Vocals: B.J.York ~ Guitar: B.J.York
Small MP3 sample
The taste keeps her on the edge of
pleasure.
Her nostrils fill, pupils flair.
The edge slides past the muscle,
Saying, “This was once alive.”
Hold it hard, if you care,
But you might crush it, if you dare.
The life signs take a nose dive.
What was once, well, now somethin’ else
is there.
Oh, will that waltzin’ end in my head?
Oh, will that come to me?
The answers keep flashin’ green to red,
‘cause the question keeps changing.
Slippers slip on the floor,
Can’t seem to hold it anymore,
The edge slides past the muscle.
Someone calls from the other room,
At least I think someone’s there,
A voice quiet and clear,
Meaning mocking and elusive,
As my conscience laid bare.
Breaking down every day,
My defenses fall away,
Like dancing on a slippery floor
or dreams that refuse to stay,
long enough to remember,
guilt rising, acidic and indiscriminate
blade
and the edge slides past the muscle.
Oh, will that place of deepest comfort
come to me,
where all my longing hides?
A voice muffled in my neck,
pulling on my insides.
From blind, winter stairwell to summer
night,
sleep on sun-ripped asphalt,
to rolling flight of big-winged owl
and orange-blossomed night,
I hold it to me with my breath,
and the edge just slides past.
What’s Left Behind – (Track Two)
B.J.York
Vocals: B.J.York ~ Guitar: B.J.York
He says to me,
“Where you been all my life, baby?”
Here and there,
thither and yon,
in and out of my head.
Oh, it’s what ‘s left behind, that
counts.
Oh, lose a little bit of myself, every
time.
In bar-talk she says,
“It’s all somewhat evocative
of any number of things.”
Opening the door of a speeding car,
comes to my mind.
Oh, little did they know,
and even if they had,
would they have kept it shut?
Oh, it’s what’s left behind, that counts.
Oh, lose a little bit of myself, every
time.
He says, “Where you goin’, baby?”
Nowhere, slow, want’a come along?
And I’m bound for no direction,
Play at it, pretend.
Oh, it’s what ‘s left behind, that
counts.
Oh, lose a little bit of myself, every
time.
Oh, but some things stay longer
than expected.
Feel a little cold, get a little rash,
hide and seek, rubbers in the trash.
And still it’s here and there,
thither and yon,
in and out of some bed.
Oh, it’s what’s left behind, that counts.
Oh, lose a little bit of myself, every
time.
Here and there,
thither and yon,
in and out of some bed.
Here and there,
thither and yon,
in and out of my head
Oh, it’s what’s left behind that counts.
Oh, it’s what’s left behind that counts.
Magic Man – (Track Three)
B.J.York
Vocals: B.J.York ~ Guitar: B.J.York
Small MP3 sample
I want me a magic man,
maple sugar in a fancy can,
a million dollars tax free,
sweet-talkin’ bambi, I ain’t kiddin’.
You put ‘em in a bag,
shake it all around,
take it downtown.
Make it look like gold,
get it bought, get it sold,
ah, but don’t you ever grow old,
sweet thang.
Now, they want me to be a real nice
lady-girl,
a virgin queen decked out in smoky
pearls,
mama, maid, and baby-doll, Barbie in the
flesh,
on call.
You put ‘em in a bag,
shake it all around,
take it downtown.
But if you wanta take a look inside,
better have a real fast ride, at the
ready,
sweet thang.
Now a lot ‘o us want a perfect friend,
a little worship in bed,
wake up the next decade with a
perfect stranger instead,
quick, sever the ties,
lickity-split the lies,
keep it tax-free, bambi.
You put it all in a bag,
shake it all around,
take it downtown.
But, sooner or later
you gotta open up the bag,
take a nice long look inside.
It’s a real pain, I know it’s a drag,
but, baby, the only free ride is down.
So you can take you
that Magic Man,
he’s nothin’ but another empty can,
and a million dollars ain’t tax free,
it’s make believe, bambi.
You put ‘em in a bag,
shake it all around,
leave it downtown.
And all that is gold,
you know what they say,
ah, it’s gonna make you old,
sweet thang.
Without You Near - (Track Four)
B. J. York
Vocals: B.J.York ~ Guitar: B.J.York
Small MP3 sample
Oh, my darling, how can I
see you, day after day?
How can I want you,
like the night-time
wants to stay?
You reach into me,
with nothin’ but a look.
Oh, you stop my thoughts,
with your voice.
Oh, my baby,
I’m beggin’ you,
oh, please don’t go away,
please don’t leave so soon.
The air is empty, unbreathable,
without you near, without you near.
Stainless Steel Patio – (Track Five)
B. J. York
Vocals: B.J.York ~ Guitar:B.J.York
Stainless steel patio,
layin’ ‘em down in a row.
Bite a lime and quinine on my tongue,
chilly heat down my throat,
lacy dreams move and float,
across the red screen of my lids,
back lit by a dirty sun.
A million dollars for a life,
brief as the glare off a new knife.
Dollar bills in a trash can,
a man with a perfect tan,
layin’ ‘em down on his belt,
remembering how it felt,
a million lives and a river of
very fine wine, ago.
.. and it’s standin’ here, remembering,
wondering why it’s remembering,
and if it will only be memory ever again.
Oh, can I go, can I go,
can I go, can I ever go home.
Soft bright sound,
like a sheen of sweat’s
first break across my brow.
Delicate and mineral-rich,
strewn with snapshots,
satisfying grit in my thoughts.
Too tired to grieve,
stay or leave. Oh yeah.
But, before you go away,
please return the empties,
I think I’ll stay,
so I can sort through
what I thought I was
when I first met you.
Oh, can I go, can I go,
can I go, can I ever go home.
They say life is hard
unless you got it,
‘cause, if you got it,
you can buy it.
But the price-tag isn’t marked,
and nothing’s as hard
as this empty place.
Wish time would take
this thing I bought,
and all of the paper
and number vaults,
shiny and hard as this patio.
I’d pay a lifetime
of spendin’ my regrets
for just one moment,
livin’ lean and runnin’ rich
on that sweet look,
in those hands that traced me home.
Oh, can I go, can I ever go,
can I go, can I ever go home.
Stainless steel patio,
stone in the river’s flow.
Lay down all my faces in a row,
let them go,
step off, the current takes me.
Oh go, go home.
Can I go, can I ever go home.
Go home,
Go home.
Fan - (Track Six)
B. J. York
Vocals: B.J.York ~ Guitar: B.J.York
Oh, baby,
don’t you know
that I love you?
Oh, baby, baby,
don’t you know
what I wanta do to you?
Oh, come here baby,
come to mama.
Bring me some of that,
Sweetness,
I know you got.
Picture that
wide open space
we could ignore.
It’s just a few steps
across the floor.
Let’s not be bound
by convention.
Oh, baby,
if you only knew
what I could do,
behind this hidden beauty,
you’d just walk away,
from that baby,
baby floatin’ in front of you.
Ease into that
crazy driver’s seat.
Don’t look behind,
Let’s just groove
to that bottled beat.
We’re just one night
from the next morning empty.
I flip the white switch,
say goodbye.
The glass goes flat
as a dead man’s eye.
I’d give anything to be
caught in your dimension.
Lookin’ for love
in the vegetable aisles,
just another one of those
wet dream exiles.
Taken by musak,
mesmerized by
airbrush styles.
Change the sheets
at your leisure.
You can look,
but you cannot touch,
uh, uh.
Gather ye these empty treasures,
skin-show seamless,
plastic pleasures.
Imagination
in the dim light.
Wonderland – (Track Seven)
B. J. York
Vocals: B.J.York ~ Guitar: B.J.York
White sky in wonderland,
plastic chairs in a candy sand,
dark bird cuts the horizon,
preying on my white-washed memories
fading.
Stroke the arch of my descending joys.
Drown myself in shallow, numbing toys,
to push back what I lack in my,
oh, so expansive , white life.
White sky in wonderland,
in a movie of my emotions,
big, bony desert rocks,
ripple and sway in the heat-distorted
light.
Like tumbled sheets and socks,
I’m cast away, dishevelled, and replete,
for the moment , no room for sadness, no
none.
So I put on my make-believe, bitter
shades
and I lay down again on a cruel, clean
bed.
White sky in wonderland,
soon you too will go to keepsake heaven,
leave a trail of blurring ink-lines,
still-lives, and stale cake-crumbs,
collecting in my snap shot frames.
Then I realize I might not see you again,
for surely next year you will have
been displaced by a year’s worth of
some stranger’s history I’m not in.
White sky in wonderland,
still I hand you off to the aircraft line
and walk away so casually,
and I find myself in the bathroom cryin’,
while they mumble, impatiently.
And I think I’ll call you soon
and tell you that I miss you
and look forward to seeing you again
next year,
with or without the white sky,
in wonderland…bbbb