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Unloading my brain after the Yankees go home for the ninth straight October without a title.

Second-Hand Dream Bills are paid The lady stayed For at least another week A part-time French maid Leaves cognac on her father’s grave Loves when the radio plays, “Don’t Speak” Our modest abode A working Nintendo and rotatory phone A rented American dream I’m a pugilist and bartender My brother’s an English teacher with tenure My father’s in prison for a punch that ruptured some drunk’s spleen I took a second-hand dream And gave myself a life It comforted like a harlot Before it slashed me like a knife She took a second-hand dream And gave herself a life Thought she’d be a starlet Then she was my wife She got a gig Playing the wife of a whig In a burlesque about Andrew Jackson Thought she hit it big Then snapped like a twig When it didn’t provide much traction And me at the undercard at Gleason’s Fighting rabid pups for one good reason My father thought I was good at it She became withdrawn in a low season Her once holy vision tantamount to treason Often sighs melodic, “hope is just another habit.” Chorus Never came to nothing like an ultimatum I expressed doubts repeated verbatim She seemed to desire a world beyond My brother wanted to fight and mom forbade him But some men need gloves to attract a fair maiden She was being hassled beneath the blue neon These days the city streets seem to shine silver You can push penny stocks and still claim a sliver I couldn’t blame her for considering other possibilities I could have gone Union, a carpenter or builder She could fly away whenever the wind may will her Yet here on the sidewalk she still stands by me

Well, we’ve blurred the distinction Between happiness and numbness Entertained to death How did I become this? And I buy the ticket For the billionaire’s team He secured with my loyalty And an annuity scheme Harmless pleasures To get us through the daze In case of an insight Forgone in glory’s blaze And I have my principles A routine of discipline Maybe I never got far enough out Of all these hours within I’m no Oliver Stone With a rabbit in my hat Take the camera in the chopper That’s the end of that I’m no Oliver Stone Putting the project over tact Berating some dreamboat That he can’t actually act No Oliver Stone Another high-noon On the frontier in my skull Where polarities die in gunfights Over their total loss of control A life less dramatic In the jackpot of responsibility So distant from my idealism As to wonder what it ever meant to me Suspicious of a stranger Occupying a narrative Sullenly accepting atrocities Their god would never forgive I know I still feel With whatever soul I hold onto But I’m just a painted figment In the distance on an unknown avenue

Discussing the floundering yet still highly relevant Yankees on July 9th, 2026. Can they turn it around? Why do people tell lies about Brian Cashman? Who should the Yankees target at the trading deadline?

These Psychic Fields From the hotel window The city is a kaleidoscope Of blurred light In the bedroom mirror You voice your positive affirmation Once, and then twice On the nightstand There’s a torn pack of baseball cards And an empty bottle of Sapporo You watch another Twilight Zone Incredulous at the idea There’s two hours until tomorrow These psychic fields That connect you & me It has to be real Our gap in notoriety You feel like you are no one Not even worth the Strings I strum In the lounge there is a locker Left abandoned Tagged with graffiti Everyday you see a skull exploding While dining on your And memory There was a moment of momentum And then all the good luck Abruptly stopped They considered you for the picture Which was tinted and angled And you were unfortunately cropped Chorus You think about my life How you’d love to live in music And sleep on a tour bus You have one of mine Stuck in your head Specifically the chorus You daydream of wearing A leather jacket loaded With money and swagger When ponder living Someone else’s life The details never seem to matter Chorus Two men staring at the same city Only, from different Windows I am burden by the excess Of hope I carry While you nurse your thimble We both got drunk Couldn’t dream, even with A warm body in our bed Neither of us could touch The sudden snowfall upon All the living and the dead Chorus So, both of us wandered Out of our hotels Which were directly across the street It turns out Madison Avenue Is a perfect place for Strangers to meet We made eye contact, commented Mutually on the flurries, you joked about The shabby slippers on my feet Though you probably regretted never mentioning the album You once made Your humor before fate, Allowed me later to stop resisting sleep And fade Chorus Coda: What’s the worth of two men? One having more than the other Could we have been friends? Discussed both having a mother We separate ourselves, defined through Cause, career, and achievement We stare up at shadowy walls In the evening Having never really believed In any of it

Island of Broken Boys This piece of plastic Is fantastic Accompanies me Through the sullen snow Our future recedes It was once orgiastic Now I practice Forgetting what I know The chief of police Held a press conference I watched it through the Window of a bar Where a faceless man Stirred a gin and tonic Watched a commercial With a pretty, singing star Jammed a cold hand in my overcoat And I continued onward The masses seem disillusioned With hope Now they’re starting To talk a bit tougher Chorus: And if you could fix This brokenness There’d be no reason to love you So my salvation Is a fabrication I refuse to invest in And if I could soothe Your Jazz Age blues You’d have no reason to need me So your depression Is actually an obsession With the theory of original sin ………………….. My screen feeds Endless imagery A repository for the Past It provides no epiphany But keeps me company Like a looping late-night News broadcast I’m notified To my surprise That my phone thinks I’m lost It recommends A taxi ride And calculates The cost Wondered near the Seaport sea And my boots Crunch upon the frost Your text message Reminds me Solidarity Is love unlost Chorus On an island Of broken toys Where the brutalism is Authentic You showed mercy To one lucky boy So the sewer mulch May be romantic In the time of The broken mirror Where the meaning Of morality is questioned In each other’s mind We find a glimmer Of the love that Must be protected Modern idealogues In a screen Who won’t feel the violence They advocate I take these walks Away from me Before returning home to you To create

Blunderland The streetlights glowed Chrystal white Against a confetti veil Of falling snow We looked to the left, looked to the right Picked nowhere in particular To go The champagne was nestled In the crook of your scarecrow arm We thought we’d spend The rest of our lives Never hearing an alarm Blunderland, Blunderland I guess it’s hard to understand How heavy reality rests In the palm of an ordinary man Blunderland There was a man dressed Like Santa Slumped against a blue mailbox His cotton-beard was decorated With an authentic December frost You leaned to touch his shoulder He acted like he’d been throttled He called you a cop And tried stealing your Cherry-tinted bottle Blunderland, Blunderland They slam a dollar In your open hand When you were only seeking Assistance to stand Blunderland We got into our hotel And there was an isosceles On the wall You gazed upon The street beneath us Said, “it doesn’t feel like I thought.” So I held you from behind Put a peck on your left ear Told you, “You’ve only been Conditioned by cinema, my postmodern dear.” Blunderland, Blunderland The record company Signed our band They bought us out For 27 grand Blunderland But still you were troubled And ambled for the inviting emerald Loveseat With a mirthless sigh and muttered, “why,” You kicked the suede boots from Your ballerina feet You let the bubbly Simply sink against your side I was suddenly gripped by the realization You would never be my bride Blunderland, Blunderland The things people do To feel fleetingly grand I had a vision of us in Rockaway Waltzing on the icy sand I said, “Monica, please rise,” And your fluttered eyes meant you were Listening I told ya, “don’t let this city get you down, because someday We’ll be reminiscing,” Over the whirlwind since graduation And the noises in our heads The little crack in the corner of your ceiling Where those nocturnal spiders Spun their fragile webs Blunderland, Blunderland Living like a slogan Portraying an All-American brand Because for some people It costs more than change Passing days out on the lam

I Know Better Ice cold morning A hole in my shoe I have to make some money To afford fast food It is raining razor blades But I’m in a good mood Everyone gets lucky sometimes I’m about due People bleed in different places diamond-shaped cuts in their faces Gashes on their elbows and knees Turn to ice-sealed scabs at 11 degrees I know better To be undermined by bad weather You shouldn’t be swayed By the well-meaning brigade Selling absolute doom It's good journalism But it don't carry a tune Blistering summer evening The concrete undulates I’m strolling the neighborhood Off the 3 AM train The moon is an empty plate My mind and body are plagued By the realization of wherever I go My malady refracts in new array Everyone has the right advice I’m unemployed, they’re Jesus Christ Preaching a sermon of responsibility to me Because I’m on an indefinite vacation after my bachelor’s degree I know better To be undermined by bad weather You shouldn’t be swayed By the well-meaning brigade Selling absolute doom It's good journalism But it don't carry a tune

Hungarian Rhapsody -- Winter by Matt Waters

Burnt Leaves You never ask me to come over When you sit at the end of the bar With a look on your face Like you’re watching the implosion of a star Was it another audition Where the casting director led you on? Now you’re looking to score So we can discuss the golden era past the break of dawn I never tell you that you’re too temperamental For such a brutal line of work That your kindness would be better served As a teacher or a nurse Nor that your breakdowns amuse me For I have seen so much worse Beautiful minds who could have defined the times Lost because they got sick first Chorus Burnt leaves Scatter at my feet They’ll disappear down a gutter And life is never that neat I feel This forgotten cemetery inside me And for the grace of an unknown God I’d sleep forever beneath a white sheet Once or twice, you’ve asked outright Why I give a damn about you Another anonymous Midwest actress Probably only passing through I never reveal My habit for survival has left me alone That weeks go by and you’re the only one Who calls me on the phone Imagine that, 20 year age gap And I can’t even with girls Something else about you must remind me of my mother Aside from those dark brown curls So regular together The waiters gave us a nickname with a ring of truth I’m the Old Man and the Sea You’re Betty Boop Chorus Well tonight, I think I got something different To tell you These minor defeats and indignities Just haven’t been enough to quell you And even if it makes you hate me, Man its work the risk I’m so damn tired of watching beautiful people Who think pain and rejection make them exist Because you’re better than this Better than dancing on a puppeteer’s string You might not want to hear it But the world doesn’t need another pretty face to sing But who am I kidding? I won't broadcast your disgrace We'll just talk about Scorsese Our version of saying grace You’ll mumble how you feel safe with me, that I’m the closest you’ve ever had to a father A dire warning about your destruction will linger on my lips But like all the times before, I just won’t bother Chorus

Winding Down So vast This Expanse The moon surface Of my mind Lamp-light frames the snow And we go Deeper into that gentle night Which is blind to the past The roles we’ve been cast The dreams that have been denied Chorus: Winding down The lights flicker in town Then they die They die They die I have no illusions I’m paid to entertain the delusions Of the hierarchies and their disaffected Sons Conditioned to think creative work Represents a nobler birth In our country of bibles and guns But I’m hardly cynical In fact, I’m quite equivocal About my replenishing of funds Chorus And your eyes are a respite Though we may fight About what you call my Callous attitude We have our bench and pond The graceful sense of being beyond Each other’s disappointment or gratitude Yet you feel so acutely my fear That I had a life that disappeared Like a flight lost at cruising altitude Chorus From where does this bitterness come? You live a dream, that’s supposed to be freedom Instead I’m the absence of joy In the state at large The teenage girl crying on her birthday Her businessman father with nothing to say The mother hardened by too many days in charge At least my charges believe in writing And you leave me alone with my faulty wiring Like a noir detective drinking on the job Chorus Summertime now and I could leave Then its winter again and I’ve begun to grieve And in autumn my mother didn’t provide Any indication When you talk about next January My madness feels almost sanitary Maybe I just need a good, warm vacation You say I’m doing great, I’ve got it together I look like a knight in this coal black sweater You can kiss me on the forehead because We’ve arrived at our station

Halloween Well, they said this one’s serious And not to go outside and smoke I figured my mother wasn’t delirious So I took note Hunkered alone in the basement Watching Season 5 of Mad Men I called to make sure you were aware And to feel like you still were a friend You sounded agitated And staticky on the line I said, you didn’t let that stupid bastard Talk you into giving him a ride Chorus There’s always tomorrow Until there isn’t There’s always the light of lightening in a storm There’s always tomorrow until there isn’t I will love you Forevermore Now the storm touched down Knocked the crown off Kings Point Down in Ozone you could drown In Whitestone I ashed my joint If I’d known we’d split I’d have never introduced you to my mom If she knew you revenge cheated She might not care if you were harmed Yet it gave me a twinge Remembering your Winehouse eyelids Glittering in the streetlight that night We joked about having kids Chorus I hear the rain hard while Pacing from the boiler to my couch Even after the texts with the threats It’s you I still can’t live without So I raced up the stairs, put on my Yankees hat And grabbed the keys Planning to find you To explain what state of emergency means But my father grabbed me with half-my-shoulder Out the door And was already pulling me back inside before I even answered when he asked, “what the hell are you leaving for?” Chorus Well, two days later And it was Halloween I saw some little girl walking around a fallen tree And she was dressed like a Disney queen I didn’t feel nothing While walking through our little shattered town I couldn’t lose this shining vision of you Wearing a white wedding gown It was all my goddamn fault I grew up getting called ugly I couldn’t stop myself from wanting someone else Even when I knew you loved me I heard he wanted cigarettes The kindergarten teacher called him dim The priest said nothing about his sins Nobody wanted to blame him Chorus Nowadays I can't sleep These ghosts in my head Project in black-and-white Above my childhood bed I’ve never really stopped taking That first walk right after the storm I’ve never wanted to mend the Threads of our life together that were torn They say I make you a saint Because I block your flaws out of my mind They tell me it’s only natural for people to heal When they’ve had enough time Chorus

The autumn twilight The masquerade The days move forward Thoughtless cadets on parade Do I feel more afraid? Than what I used to be? Of being somebody, or nobody A fading glint Took me for a walk I buttoned my coat Though you wanted to talk With your dissolvable salt I know you didn’t mean to You’re just telling the truth The faces of strangers The indifference of a moment A neighborhood renting Because they can’t own it With their inevitable sin and uncertain atonement The motorcyclist makes a delivery Beside the lawn with a smoking chimney Chimney, has a memory Of the way things were supposed to be Chimney, lighting up in the dying heat With almond eyes set beside crow’s feet The evening animates In sashaying wind It could be leading me further out Or right back in To yesterday’s hobgoblin Everyone’s smarter than me Monuments to efficiency And I’m walking in a circle To find my way home Dimming those palaces in my mind Where the light relentlessly shone Upon pillars of stone Crumbling to dust in the present Eventually preserved in a dangling pendant When I’m a few blocks away It kicks back to sense Some ideas fade Love is permanent For a sense of recompense Then Chimney coughs and returns inside Is she thinking about the one she left behind?

Moonlight Sonata -- Fall by Matt Waters

Holy Summer Night Somewhere between Lucky & free Off the train And on the scene The trees smile Ominously Forever We shall not be The warm wind sings Deliriously The stars are our shining Canopy Above frenetic Repartee Among unknown and Ambitious company This moment is a memory Oh, holy summer night I stay alive To feel your Plight Betwixt and between Inherited identity Surviving a strange dream Called physical reality Stay awhile With your pitbull smile We have chemistry You & me This sidewalk jewelry Broken bottled cruelty Embedded in the concrete Like a desolation courtesy Guiding us This way and thus Toward all desire’s Fait accompli This moment is a memory Chorus