CHRIS MONTI
  • Home
  • Contact
  • Calendar
  • Music: Chris Monti Band
  • Music: Chris Monti Solo
  • The Devilfish
  • Photos
  • Sing-Along
  • About
  • Lyrics
  • Children's Music
  • Blog
  • Press
This is a collection of lyrics from the albums Home, Locust Grove and Swampland Flowers. All lyrics were written by Chris Monti except where noted. Enjoy!

Songs from the album Home:

Home | Going Swimming | The Eleven | Darlene | Independence Day | Chicken Shack | Honey Bee | Violence | My old Man | Oh My Love

Songs from the album Locust Grove:

Long in the Tooth | Annalee | Top of the Hill | King Solomon and Zen Master Nam Cheon | Chris and Adam’s Song | Country Boy in the City | Julie Song No. I | Even When You’re Not Here | The Man Who Lost His Fear of God | Leaving in the Morning | Lowland | Caroline and Matt’s Wedding Song | Me and Curby

Songs from the album Swampland Flowers:

Julie Song No. II | Leaving This City | The JCBFI Blues | The Bee Song | Cats | The Local Expatriate | Rat-Bat Astard | Take Your Rest | Thorn in Your Side

Home
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

If I had a dollar for every time I've been
Down to the ocean for to take a swim
If I had a dime for every time I've gone
I'd spend it all to get back home
If I had a ride for every ride I've caught
If I caught sight of everything I've sought
If I could feel you from across the room
I'd sweep you up with that old dust broom
We would dance across that warped wooden floor
Upon the dust of memories alights a little more
If I had a chance for every coin I've tossed
If I had a win for every time I've lost
Would you still love me the way you do
If I wasn't coatless and without shoes?
If I had a lover for every one I've loved
If I had a raindrop from every cloud above
If I had a good time for every cup I've drained
There wouldn't be time enough for all the pain
If I did it all and then did it all again
And after every ending the beginning came and went
There's nothing I could change, even if I tried
Despite all the tears my poor mother cries
If I had a dog, I would walk around
I'd let him walk me all over the town
If I had a house cat living in my home
I'd let him teach me how to live all alone
If the sun did shine on every sunny day
And if I let you in after I'd turned you away
I'd still be here all by myself
Unread notebooks collecting memories upon the shelf
But a book is kindling if that's all you've got
And a body needs fire to get good and hot
I'm cold as ice, I'm cold as stone
What I'm trying to say is, “Please come home”

Going Swimming
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

If I could I surely would
Make all that I feel understood
So I’ll ask you straight and I’ll ask you plain
Won’t you come swimming with me?
(chorus) Going swimming you and me
Going swimming for the world to see
Test the water, it sure looks good
Won’t you come swimming with me?
Well I don’t know but I’ve heard told
That you’re bound to lose what you try to hold
On the other hand I’ve heard it spoken
That an empty heart is a heart that’s broken
(chorus)
I’ve got no towel, got no bathing suit
I’ve got a ragged voice, I play a broken lute
Nothing on my plate, nothing in my pan
But I’ll treat you just as well as I can
(chorus)
If I could I surely would
Try to be about twice as good
But what you see is what I’ve got
Wont you come swimming with me?
(chorus)

The Eleven
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

Old-time music in Richmond, VA
Mrs. Phyllis Ladd Blackwell, she don't play
But she sits right up close to her daughter and her man
To get the feel of the pickin of that old-timey band
It takes a worried man to sing a worried song
I’m worried now but not for long
A little fiddle music tends to brings me ease
Is that the sound of a banjo in the whisper of the trees?
New Orleans, playing with a Dixieland band | Playing in the corner, ain’t no bandstand, grandstand
“We don’t do ‘St Louis Blues’ in D!
We’ll do ‘Saints’ in F, watch the B flat minor,” said the tenor banjo playing Louisiana old timer
There’s a Jesuit priest down on Bourbon Street
Who learned clarinet at Peterson’s feet
He said, “The best ministry the people to bring
Is to move their bodies with that Nawlins Swing”
I heard my dad play once when I was four
The only time Bill Halley came a-knockin at our door
My old Dad put his guitar away
In the closet ten years ‘till I was ready to play
I learned from Jon Hathaway in his cramped little room
The man could play the guitar like he was sweeping a broom
The best thing to me that he ever did say is,
“You can play anything that you want to play”
The earth of music is wide, its water deep
It has no secrets that it wants to keep
So sing it out, play it loud
Part the foggy, noxious cloud
Of doubt and despair, clear the air
Feel the wind on your face, feel the breeze in your hair
In the rat-a-tat-tat of the marching band
Hear the cosmic call to reach out your hand

Darlene
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

I wake up in the morning in my cabin in the fog
I've got a pain in my head like my head against a log
I smell coffee brewing but I live alone
I reach under my pillow but my gun is gone
I am stripped down naked so I pull my pants on
Peek around the corner and take a look around
I spy a long-haired woman, her ear to my phone
Feet on the table like she was right at home
(chorus)
Darlene, Darlene
Won't you leave me alone
I don't have the time to let you run me down
She looks up and sees me, puts my phone down and smiles
Says, “I let myself in through the back window with a brick
Cleaned out the fridge, made us some coffee and eggs
Went poking around for the checkbook...”
Darlene dresses sharp in a working-woman's-day-suit
Behind her child's-big-eyes her mind is astute
I can't say for sure that she means to do me harm
But I've got the feeling she wants to get those big strong hands on my farm
(chorus)
I live alone I say and I push her away
Throw the eggs in the trash and the coffee down the drain
I open the door on the world of morning light
I say, “Darlene, get out of my sight”
(chorus)
I can fix myself breakfast, I need my day to my own
And in the evening I don't mind sleeping alone
You are a beautiful girl, but a woman on the make
And the little I have left of self-respect and time... there's nothing that I'll let you take
(chorus)
Darlene you're a fox, I'll give you that
But I fear for my hens like a mouse fears a cat
Come around again with your eye on my crops
Like a .22, tin-can, fence-post I'll drop
(chorus)

Independence Day
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

This is my own Independence Day
This is my own Independence Day
I can't find a better way
I can't find a better way to celebrate
Than to be here alone
The indifferent maw of death took my new wife
Interrupting our plans for a happy life
Interrupting all our argument and strife
Cutting our ties with a merciless knife
One last shrill note from the fife, and then the rustle of leaves
Mother's gone I can't do it alone
If I do nothing they'll never be born
Missing life by a few lazy days
Better off, let me count the ways
Never enter this maze, never feel so alone
I abandon my charges and I take to the wing
No more life this world to bring | No more searching, no more song to sing
Everything goes cold
This is my own Independence Day
This is my own Independence Day
I can't find a better way
I can't find a better way to celebrate
Than to be here alone

Chicken Shack
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

Dressed in black by the chicken shack
You stole my chickens now I’m taking them back
I wake up in jail surly and hung over
Not dreaming of grouse or geese or plover
But of you you you, you filthy little thief | And of the theft of my chickens that’s brought me so much grief
I approach you like a man and ask for what’s owed
But all you do is jeer and goad
I take a swing and miss and meet with you fist
And that’s the last thing I remember…
Then I awake in a cell, bloody face and hands tender
My minds gone from black to blue to red
How I’ll get you back, the only thought in my head
I duck the pillory, now I’m on the loose
I dodge the hangman, slip the noose
Knock down the guard with my fist where he stood post as a sentry
and make and exit of the entrance of that old penitentiary
I jack the bondsman who’s post bail, sweep my tracks and leave no trail
With the bondsman’s purse I buy a coat and a gun
And I go the bar to drink down the sun
When the day draws down I make for the woods
Through the fields, to the farmhouse, to my stolen goods
Downwind of the dogs, I inspire no bark
And then the clouds break and the light cuts the dark
In the glow of the moon’s pale blue light
I am revealed to be as I am tonight
Dressed in black by the chicken shack
You stole my chickens, now I’m taking them back
I slip into the coop as quiet as a fox
And realize I have neither sack nor box
How many chickens can I hold against my breast?
I fit eight in my coat and set free the rest
Like a mad fat man I make for the road
A trail of feathers giving away my load
The highway made I slow to a walk
And quiet my scared chickens with soft soothing talk
But then a shift in the air, something’s not right
My chickens and I are not alone on the highway tonight
Jumped by bad actors at the edge of town
Gun butt to head and I go down
They open my coat and there to be found
Eight sleeping chickens making not a sound
Till the light of the moon hits the black of their eyes
They startle our assailants with their angry chicken cries
The scared men swing till all the chickens are dead
While I can do nothing but bleed from the head
The chickens dispatched they go for my gold which till this morning the bondsman did hold
Of boots coat and gun I am also relieved
Then left with my chickens to shiver and grieve
My brood in my arms I’ll bleed till I die
With the last of my breath this thought I confide:
There is no chicken that a man did own
That the grim chicken reaper didn’t bring back home

Honey Bee
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

Honey bees in the air in the early morning light
About their honey bee business, buzz around in flight
Honey bee, oh honey bee
I hear the rush of the city, the traffic going past
This ain’t my first morning but it might be my last
So I set right down with my guitar on my knee
And write a little ode to the honey bee
Cabbage and grapes and beans and corn | They’re all wet with dew in the early morn’
The doc is in the field and the potter’s in the barn
Storyteller’s in the backyard workin on a yarn
Honey bee, honey bee, honey bee three
Laying so still on the stoop with me
Two of them drained of life from the cold
The other too soon for his fate to be told
I lay him in the leaves in the warmth of the sun
He might see another morning ‘fore his race is run
Honey bee, good luck to you honey bee
Mandy comes out for a cup of tea
And I tell her the tale of the honey bee
Each in our own way, honey bee
We’re praying for you
I let him sit for a while for to give him some time
Finger pickin the guitar and scribblin lines
Then I get right down on my hands and my knees
And I check on my friend below the dogwood tree
And lo and behold, there ain’t no honey bee
Honey bee lives through the cold in the night
To fly around once again in the morning light
Honey bee, how I love you honey bee
Honey bees in the air in the early morning light
About their honey bee business, buzz around in flight
Honey bee, oh honey bee

Violence
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

People sit in broken rooms
Wondering where to go
People shuffle towards the door
Wondering why it is so
People wander City Hall
Minds wallowing in despair
Dragging hands over peeled walls
Eyes fixed in a crazy stare
Families on the open road
Faces pressed to the glass
Pull the plug, turn the crank
I’ve saved up some money for gas
People driving in their cars
Not going anywhere
Wheels rolling dirty tar
The wind is in my hair
With the might and right of Providence
We’ll clean our house of decadence
We’ll tax it out, we’ll raise the rents
We’ll arm the men who watch the fence
What we see is violence
Under the guise of self defense
Name and subjugate the dissidents
While the righteous swell to corpulence

My Old Man
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

My old man keeps fit and trim
Pays good care to the shape he's in
My old man keeps fit and trim, hey now
Me, sometimes I let myself go
I loose track of the morning for the love of the show
Me, sometimes I let myself go
Hey now
I could learn a thing or two from my old man
I could learn a thing or two from my old man
Hey now
My old man he's a model of dedication
A good family man as he travels the nation
Keeps his mind on his work and his wife and kids
Keeps and eye on the future when he makes his bids
I've got a good woman for the first time ever
And though my work's got me on the road to wherever
I plan to be as good as my old man
I've learned a thing or two from my old man
I've learned a thing or two from my old man
Hey now
Now this ain't to say my old man's a saint
His momma says he is but I say that he ain't
This ain't to say my old man's a saint, oh no
But any troubles between him and me, we try to lay them out in the air to see
Air them in the open breeze
Me and my old man
Me and my old man
Hey now
My old man raised me to understand
That I should use my skills to help my fellow man
Well I've grown up to be a picker and singer
Not an academic or some big-time shit-slinger
I'm not always sure that I can understand
How I'm doing any good with a guitar in hand
But at least I'm not a banker or a politician
Making jokes is all well and good
But a man's still got to do what he knows he should
I'm a writer and a singer and I take my work most seriously
I made a promise to my old man's old man
When they laid him in the ground I touched his hand
I made a promise to my old man's old man
I said, “Grandpa I promise to do right by you
I'll do all the things a good man should do
But I'll do them in the way I know to be true to who I am”
Like my old man and his old man
Like my old man and his old man
Hey now

Oh My Love
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

Oh my love, I'm going to miss you when I'm gone
Oh my love, I'm going to miss you when I'm gone
I'll miss your shy smile and the weight of you in my arms
I laid down last night but I could not get to sleep
I laid down last night but I could not get to sleep
I gave you what I had but I guess I didn't give it to keep
I'm like a man out walking in a cold and blowing rain
I'm like a man out walking in a cold and blowing rain
No shelter for my body, no solace for my brain
The sun may shine on us again someday
The sun may shine on us again someday
But by the look of the skies it won't be today

Long In the Tooth
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

Springtime open window
Same old foul-mouthed pop song
And the cawing of crow come to pick our bones
And in the back-yard
That old broken-toothed graveyard
It rolls and moans
It’s a good reminder of where we’re going
And in the smooth, polished marble of some long-dead’s headstone
You might catch a glimpse of the state you’re in
What kind of shape are you in?
Young man I know
Young man I know
I should let him go
You getting long in the tooth boy!
When you gonna know enough to let it go?

Annalee
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

Annalee, when I love you early in the night
I wake up in the wee, wee hours, my heart in such a fright
Oh Annalee, How could you treat me so bad?
The first time I kiss you every day my heart swells like a balloon
You bless my evening home like a rising, waxing moon
Annalee, Maybe you ain’t so bad
I wake up in the morning to find you packed and gone
Leaving me with nothing unless I can find a song
Oh Annalee, You treat me so bad
I tell you Annalee, don’t want to see you any more
Put a cap on this relationship, I’m gonna close the door
But Annalee, You such a fine lookin gal
The way that you love me, man it gets me high
All the troubles in my life you somehow simplify
Oh Annalee, maybe you’re not so bad
There’s news of flood and famine and war
The suffering of mankind
But a little taste of Annalee and me I feel fine
Oh Annalee, How could you be so good?
Annalee, Annalee, I think you’re clouding my mind
But you’ve got me in such a spot I’ll drink you up till I go blind
Oh Annalee, one of these days

Top of the Hill
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

There was an old man, name of Bill
He lived on top of the top of the hill
Spent all day by the window sill
Said, “I’m old as hell but I’m living still
Spent all day watching kids at play
Said, “Them days to me is far away
Days of runnin and fightin
Ridin around on them little red bicycles
‘Else getting pulled around on them little red wagons
One day old Bill had a little sit-down with himself
He went over the facts
I’ve got arthritic hands and a bent-over back
And I’m workin on a stroke or a heart attack
I fart up a storm but shittin’s a dream
I’ve got a shriveled old prick and a weak urine stream
So this old man, name of Bill
Who lived on top of the top of the hill
Said you know I ain’t got much more to live
You know I ain't got much more life to live
He went down to the basement, took him a day
Pushed a bunch of old shit out of the way
Found that old toboggan, brought it up and outside
And said… “I’m gonna go for a ride”
That sled looked fine at the top of the hill
As the sun was comin up behind old Bill
He put his sore ass on then old wooden planks
And to his god he offered one final thanks
That sled moved along on that slick morning grass
Trees and shrubberies flying past
Blue jays squawking and making way
For a guy on his sled on his very last day
It’s too gory to tell how this story did end
For he failed to turn when he hit the bend
He didn’t zig or zag, he only went straight
And with that decision, he sealed his fate
As the sun was coming up over head
Of all the children lying in the bed
That old man he rolled over dead

King Solomon and Zen Master Nam Cheon
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

King Solomon holds a baby in his arms
Two women claim to be mother
Because he is so wise, its up to him to decide
To give it to one or the other
Oh King Solomon!  What will you do?
Oh King Solomon! What will you do?
Picking up the baby he draws forth his sword
Prepared to cut it in two
"One half a baby" He says to each lady
"Will be given to you"
One woman laughs, spite on her tongue
The other has tears in her eyes
Wise Solomon puts down his sword
Says, "The mother is she who now cries
The mother is she who now cries"
The monks of the east and the western halls
Are fighting over a cat
Zen Master Nam Cheon steps on the scene
says, "Is this where your true self is at?"
Then picking up the cat, he draws forth his sword, prepared to cut it in two
If you were there, one of the monks
Tell me, what would you do?

Chris and Adam’s Song
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

Momma and papa livin up on the hill
Momma and papa livin up on the hill
They ain’t makin much noise but that baby that’s a-comin sure will
Papa’s out workin, workin tile and slate
Papa’s out workin, workin tile and slate
Mamma’s makin sure then babies get fed all across that Green Mountain State
We got a blue starry sky and a waning moon coming up
We got a blue starry sky and a waning moon coming up
Papa grab a bottle for to fill my cup
We got some good tobacco and a brand new corn-cob pipe
We got some good tobacco and a brand new corn-cob pipe
Momma’s inside sleepin and the boys are tellin stories by firelight
I might live in the city but I ain’t no city man
I might live in the city but I ain’t no city man
I’m gonna pack up my things and get out of the city as fast as I can

Country Boy in the City (17 years old)
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti

This town was founded on secret sad thoughts and stolen drugs
I find old aged both fascinating and disintegrating
And then there is beauty
But I digress…
Time is not so much spread out before me as it seems to be arranged in little boxed in which I wait claustrophobically until time’s up!
And I climb into the next box
Rigorously going from field to field
Absent of passion, principles, love
Sadness graying the faces of virgins aching
The innocence of childhood is not genuine
It shines forth from their faces littered with soup and cigarette butts
Mud on the first day, and in truth how could they not know?
So send me away to anyone, anywhere
And threaten me my darling, we’re at a loss
With a scissors or something else sharp if you still adore me
It is a human universe and I can show you teeth you’ve never dreamed
But all you ever do is go back to ancestral comforts
Baffling combustion everywhere and hardly any arc of love
Only heartily materialistic fears
So how can we begin again?
Know that perfection does not exist in isolation
In fact, it does not exist at all
And what just poked you in the eye was your own umbrella
So get up, get out of bed
Because there might just be a few little songs to be sung before the decimation of the race

Julie Song No. I: Three Birds
words by Julie Restivo and Chris Monti words and music © 2005 Chris Monti

Three birds sound like scissors
Split me like a piece of paper
Open eyes to open skies…
Three birds low like lizards
Fan me as I rub my eyes
Back belongs on a rock with sand and shining sun

Even When You're Not Here
words and music © 2005 Chris Monti

Even when you’re not here
It still feels like you are here
And it fills me with hope
And it fills me with love
And I know I will see you again
You’ve given me such a gift
And I want to make sure that you know
To stand up so strong
To know right from wrong
And to live with a heart full of love
I don’t need much of you’re time
I know you’ve got much good work to do
But I want you to know
And I do my best to show
That I love you
Even when you’re not here
It still feels like you are here
And it fills me with hope
And it fills me with love
And I know I will see you again

The Man Who Lost his Fear of God
words and music © 2005 Chris Monti

I’m a-divin in the water
Have you seen my daughter?
I’m a-divin in the water
Hey! Hey!
I’m a-comin up for air
Have you seen her yellow hair?
I’m a-comin up for air
Hey! Hey!
Lord don’t you hurt this girl, with her blue-eyes and curls
She ain’t never done nothin wrong
She raise up to you every day in praise
That melodious voice in song
I’ll dive below the waves
My daughter for to save
I’m a-divin in the waves
Hey! Hey!
I’ll go diving in the deep
My daughter for to keep
I’m a-divin in the deep
Hey! Hey!
I see the ghostly white like a moth in flight
Through the green waters down below
I’ll dive again if it is my end
I can’t bear to see her go
Lord if you take that girl I’ll still praise you till you die
And when my time comes to leave this life by and by
Open up those heavenly gates
So I can see that girl again up on high
Then I’ll bid you close
And draw you near
And stab you in the eye
I’m a-divin in the water
Have you seen my daughter?
I’m a-divin in the water
Hey! Hey!
I’m a-comin up for air | Have you seen her yellow hair?
I’m a-comin up for air
Hey! Hey!
I won’t commit no crime
I’ll bid my time
I’ll make you think that I’m true
But when this life I leave
There’ll be a dagger in my sleeve
And that dagger is meant for you

Leaving in the Morning
words and music © 2005 Chris Monti

I’m leaving in the morning
I’m gonna take that early train
I’m leaving in the morning
I’m gonna take that early train
I won’t say I’m tired of you
But I will say I’m tired of all that rain
One more cup of coffee and then I’ll hit the road
One more cup of coffee and then I’ll hit the road
You left me with nothing, but still I carry this heavy load
I say to this woman “Will you be my woman?”
She says, “I am a woman of my own”
I say to this woman “Will you be my woman?”
She says, “I am a woman of my own”
“Oh Lord!” I say, “There go my plans for a happy home”
I’m leaving in the morning
I’m gonna take that early train
I’m leaving in the morning
I’m gonna take that early train
I won’t say I’m tired of you
But I will say I’m tired of all that rain

Lowland
words and music © 2005 Chris Monti

I’m goin down to the lowland
I’m goin down to the lowland
If you’re not careful
I will carry you down
I’m waitin on my slow dance
I’m waitin on my slow dance
I been waitin on you
But you ain’t come around

Caroline and Matt's Wedding Song
words and music © 2005 Chris Monti

Oh sister on your wedding day
What helpful things can your brother say?
When we first met back in ‘79
I knew we’d have a real good time
You’ve done everything right that I could not do
But still you love me and I love you
You’ve got wide arms and a watermelon heart
And a good sense of family and that’s the best place to start
We’ve become good friends over the course of out lives
Now we’re old enough to talk about husbands and wives
Oh sister and brother on your wedding day
Listen to these words that I’d like to say
Times will get tough but you can work through that part
Just listen carefully and keep an open heart
Take care of each other through thick and thin
No matter what situation you find you’re stuck in
Listen to each other
Talk it through
And remember that the other is in love with you
Love is something we can’t understand
It doesn’t fit in our brains
It doesn’t fit in our hands
It doesn’t do to keep it and you can’t just give it away
But be quiet and listen for it
And it can help you make your way
LOVE
…oh sister and brother on your wedding day

Me and Curby
words and music © 2005 Chris Monti

Well I played a little for Curby
Whom I met on a lonesome night
His hands were in his pockets
And his breath showed in the light
It was too cold to play the guitar that night
But I needed something bad
My hands were red and stiff
And this is all I had
He’d spent last night in a church basement
Where they gave him a three day stay
And then they gave him a cup of coffee
And sent him on his way
I told Curby about the park
Where I had stayed the night before
All night afraid of being stumbled upon
Waking up tired and sore
He’d lost his job in Alabama
Left the south for to roam
Working here and there as a dishwasher
No real place to call home
He ended up in the Pacific Northwest
Working at the Texaco
Said, “I got laid off again when they merged or something, I don’t know”
He’s got a brother in South California
Where it seemed like it might be warm
But it was nothin like Alabama
And he couldn’t stay long
Now he’s back out on the highway
With nothing but his clothes
He’s got everything to gain
And nothing left to lose
I’m still picking on my guitar
Even though it is too cold
Curby says, “I sure like them blues
This is something that I know”

Julie Song No. II
written by Julie Restivo and Chris Monti Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti

How quickly our needs recede and return
As we bend our intentions to fit the weather
I’ll match my movement to the strength of the wind
Efficiency decreases as I begin where the ocean ends
I begin where the ocean ends
As clouds rise slowly from the seams
In the desert two girls wash and wait for the day
They will not know what has come in between
Land is large here rippled like pants
Rippled like music we dance and we dance

Leaving this City
Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti

I would like to think that I could make this woman my wife
But that won’t be the case in this life
I would like to think that I could always be around
So that I could pick her up when she’s down
(chorus) I’m going away to leave this city
Leaving all I have behind
Oh and I don’t know
Just exactly where I’ll go
But I know, she’ll be on my mind
She would never let me take hold of her hand
I’d reach for it and she would pull it right away
I was just trying to ease her through her crying
And sometimes there’s not much that you can say
I’m starting to understand what it will take to be a man
Until I am, I will not reach out my hand
(chorus)
“If I were half the man that I thought you were looking for | I’d spend all my time looking for the other half”
When I say this she just smiles, says, “I hate what you just said”
But I had to say it because we might not have much more time
(chorus)

The bee Song
Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti

A bee in fall
Myriad roses
The bee does not alight
A bee in spring sun
Moves slowly through the branches
Too soon for their buds

Cats
Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti

(chorus)
The streets are all strangers
And even more strange are they to he who walks with the burden
Of thinking that he knows what he should be
To hold one’s self within the arms
To hold one’s self within the heart
Is to simply give the name
While forgetting that more subtle part
Test the water with only eye and toe
They can touch without asking to know
Drop your arms and drop your clothes
And let the wind touch those places now exposed
(chorus) The streets are all strangers
And even more strange are they to he who walks with the burden
Of thinking that he knows what he should be
He who has purpose, his purpose he will exhaust
He who does not seek to find, he is never lost
Keep your eyes upon your feet
Then you cannot think to think
Who it is that is to meet
(chorus)
The streets are all strangers
And even more strange are they to he who walks with the burden
Of thinking that he knows what he should be

The Local Expatriate
Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti

You know I can't decide if I'm a rich-boy or poor
But I'd like to have my answer ready when they knock upon my door
And they give me the what-for
And they drag me down to the station
And they tell me all about that great nation that they're building under God
They tell me if I join on in I can share in some of that wealth
But how can I make that decision if I'm wondering to myself
Baby am I a rich-boy or am I poor?
Every day I read the newspaper
Take it for what it's worth
I try to leave behind the question of better off or worse
I take it all as education, learnin about this bountiful nation
That forgets the kids and eats the poor
While Robin Hood, she sleeps on the floor
The line is drawn, the curse is cast
My flag is flying at half-mast
My education costs a dollar a day
But what's it worth if all I have to say is
“It’s all a mess but if you want to write
you're gonna have to find that address for yourself” ?
I ride the bus with paper and pen looking for a metaphor
But each day arriving downtown there's little written when I walk out the door
To dirty streets and peeing in beer bottles
And frozen hands and uncooked meats
There's a story about breakfast and lunch and dinner
But really its not much of a tale | At home there's an artist, a painter, a poet
he loves his work but he's much too frail
Pining away on love lost for a few
Who marveled for a while at his head and his hands
But who slowly awayed like the colors do fade
From his paintings of long-ago lands

Rat-Bat Astard
written by Chris Monti and Gabriel Luddy Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti

Gonna tell you a story about some Rat-Bat Astard
Who couldn't get it through the mail
Spent his days pining away, his foot caught in the milking pail
His hair was dirty and his beard was long
And he had a very powerful smell
Just-a-waitin' around, lyin on the ground
For God to ring that dinner bell
But what is God gonna say to you that you ain't heard already?
And what is God gonna give to you that you ain't already got plenty?
Wishing well send you straight to hell
Who you gonna run to? Who you gonna tell?
You ain't been kind, you ain't been discreet
With that look in your eyes and your pants around your feet
Runnin' around that underground
Looking for your soul in the lost and found
Of religion books on the dime-store shelves
But not one of them is gonna delve
Into the heart of the matter
Like why you're running circles mad as a hatter
While your soles are wearing thinner
And your body's getting fatter
Writin letters from your jail cell
From above the taiga where it's cold as hell
The snowy owl comes billowing by
And the air is crisp ant the sky is high
Lean back your head
This will never be read
Chained to a root in a mobile suit
Is there ever an end to your days?
You suck it all in through an indigo wind and the stars turn on in a blaze
A panel of planes sweeps you into the sky
And out into space you will sail
And hear some story about some Rat-Bat Astard
Who couldn't get it going through the mail

Take your Rest
Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti

Why don’t you lay down and get some sleep
I can tell by your smile that you’re in it deep
It’s all right to take it slow
You’ll be just fine, I know
Get some sleep my dear
Get some sleep my dear
You’ll wake up to a brand new day
The coffee and the paper and then you’re on your way
You’ll be all right just take it slow
You’ll be just fine I know
Get some sleep my dear
Get some sleep my dear
Get some sleep my dear
Take your rest right here

Thorn in your Side
Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti

I ain’t tryin to be a thorn in your side
But it ain’t like I’m some poor boy just lookin for a ride
I ain’t no poor boy and I ain’t lookin for a ride
But I’ve been thinking, together we might be satisfied
Your rollin and tumblin, I ain’t never known
Before I had the chance, had to hit the road
Your rollin and tumblin, I ain’t never known
But it’s something mighty fine
That’s what that little bird told
There was that one time when I took your hand
Kissed you on the cheek, try to make you understand
There was that one time when I took your hand
Might mean nothing to you but it sure made me feel grand

Picture
Picture
Picture
Copyright 2021 Chris Monti | CMO Records | Tel: 401.374.4478 | Email: montichristopher@gmail.com
  • Home
  • Contact
  • Calendar
  • Music: Chris Monti Band
  • Music: Chris Monti Solo
  • The Devilfish
  • Photos
  • Sing-Along
  • About
  • Lyrics
  • Children's Music
  • Blog
  • Press