I don’t write music when I’m happy I don’t write songs when I’m particularly sad I wait for the rushing of the waters to subside. But what do I lose in the calm? What if I choose to face the turbulence head on? What could I learn? I don’t tell stories in the abstract I tend to weave a single thread along the fabric I could literally (figuratively) weave you a song But what do I lose in the details? What are the views from above the abstract stratosphere? What could I see? I found a gray hair on your head and I thought “Maybe I could grow old with you” And it scared me And I rarely trip on words But here I did I don’t write music when I’m at a loss for words I don’t use music as the catalyst forwards So as I struggle to articulate allow me to zoom out What if I drop you? What if I can't pick you up when you fall? Should I write about that? No one would listen to that. It’s a foggy metaphor — Am I right about that? So let me make my lyrics better So you can’t twist the words I said or Misconstrue the meaning of the letter What I really mean’s a bit more literal See I’m not talking to you at all. I want to have a kid Kid I’m talking to you now I will teach you, feed and speech you, ’Til you reach your greatest heights But what if I drop you What if I can't pick you up when you fall I don’t write music when I’m frightened So what did I learn from the journey? What did I earn from facing fears in front of a crowd? What did I find? A song.

My name’s Joel I’m five feet high Although depending on the dating app I like to imply My multiplicity I’m actually thirty two-inch guys stacked up in a trench coat My name's Joel I’m a little badass I’m a bold, shockin’ Tough-talkin’ Jaywalkin’ fellow As soon as I determine that the light turned yellow My name’s Joel I go real hard I wake up and I pound a couple of waters through the night And then I overdose on Gummy Vites My name's Joel I’ve got a microphone cable to tell stories and fables and facts and jokes You’ve come to unwind, relax, Have some laughs You’ve come to see what the song evokes There’s so much to learn right here So buckle up and jot your thoughts out in your notebook Shake off your troubled year You can take your heavy load and hang it on the coat hook I’m not quite small but not quite a medium I have a lot of facts but have to Wikipedi’em I’m in middle, in the bittersweet I do little of this but not that My name’s Joel So that’s a bit about me Just comin up and drummin up Some buzz about the word From the voice with the verse And the fifths and the thirds and the fourths Because about the source now ya heard My name’s Joel I’m five feet high Now I’m gonna tell you fifty digits of pi 3.14159265358979323846264338327950288419716939937510

To the girl with the genuine smile And the almost Bohemian style Who sits with her knees Exposed to the breeze In a field that rolls on for miles To the girl with inquisitive eyes That nobody ever denies Who keeps a full Camelbak In a blue hipster knapsack Of dainty but practical size To the girl who enjoys Irish Whiskey And relishes all that is risky Who plays the French horn And watches French porn Who's spontaneous, jolly, and frisky To the girl who once sat next to me In a class about music history Who laughed at my joke About the Baroque And Biber's Sonatas of Mystery I may not be As cool as you But can't you see We could be two Like milk and tea And grass and dew And pods and peas And lentils and stew Forks and spoons And stars and moons And chocolate crème brûlée (I must be pretty hungray) Hey, why don’t you come over For a candlelit dinner tonight? I’m a really good cook, I’ll show ya I think you’ll know it after just one bite Then we’ll sit on the couch by the fire And reminisce about all that good food We could watch HBO’s “The Wire” I hear that’s pretty good And then… And then… To the girl with the genuine smile May I have this one little dance?

I get off the train I'm homeward bound I've come a long way Around the bay Just to start a career You were riding on the Richmond train Spent your Saturday night at the bar I was finding out the hard way The trickiness of traveling without a car I'm on the platform now I'm upward bound (yeah I’m gonna elevate) I'm not a stairs guy I'm a half-off fares guy It's part of the game (yeah you think it’s hella great) The perks don't always make it easy though So you can tell the critics I’m not nervous A half price discount's hardly consolation When the platform elevator's out of service (Woah!) Stuck in the middle of a staircase sandwich Can't go up Can't go down I was riding on the northbound It was the last train Well there was one more train One level down But since the lift was out I had my doubts about ever Leaving at all that night You were riding on the Richmond The operators had no choice But to turn your train around cause I was Stuck in the middle of a staircase sandwich Can't go up Can't go down I was learning how to live life In the not-so-fast lane So I get back on a new train That’s right, the one you’re on When they turned you around you had no clue Why your stop had gone What I remember happened next I won't forget For a long time When I first saw you you were combing your hair With your one free hand You were balancing a pizza box and a bag of Lay’s With a bottle of beer in a ripped up paper bag It was precarious When you first saw me I was kinda confused ‘Cause I didn't know The train they chose to use would be filled with literally hundreds of people You thought I missed my train And that I convinced them to come back There’s no time to explain And you’re quite drunk And you’re yelling at me: Are they gonna hold the bus? Are they gonna hold the bus? Are they gonna hold the bus? At EL CERRITO TOO? Do you wanna bag of Lay's? Do you wanna bag of Lay's? Ha! Do you wanna bag of LAZE I can sell Doritos too! No! See I was Stuck in the middle of a staircase sandwich Couldn't go up Couldn't go — you know what no time cause We’re back at the new station now Finally upward bound (it’s got a working elevator) I’m going home Yeah I’m free to roam The whole city! (I think I’ll see you fellas later) We were riding on the Richmond I’m on the street now At a different stop But it's a different stop So I'm two miles from home

This one’s about cars! They’re mighty metal chassis With reclinable seats I’m Ares You’re Aphrodite Pump the gas, seize the wheel, Own the streets Big stick Chiseled jaw Muscle car Break the law Cool guy Impress friends Look fly In a Mercedes Benz Nothing comes in between Me and my road rage dopamine I’m a king You all suck I do what the truck I want This one’s about cars! They’re mighty metal chassis With reclinable seats If you need help over there Watch me laugh, see if I care If you’re in need, if you’re in trouble you Watch me leave in my BMW I can do anything ‘cause my car’s much bigger than yours

I will never be an astronaut And I think that’s okay Won’t try it out, won’t dream of it, Won’t work towards it someday I will never see the cratered moon Spin round and round I’ll happily observe the stars And planets from the ground I won't Somebody else will I think it’s really cool that they can do that I don't Somebody else does I will never be afraid to say that I will never jump two meters high Will never run a race I will never not have funny feet or Obstacles to face Though we may obsess or worry Over what we do There’s nothing wrong or lesser With not being able to I won't Somebody else will I think it’s really cool that they can do that I don't Somebody else does I will never be afraid to say that Please don’t get it twisted You don’t have to can to prove that you existed Feel the euphoria of letting that go I’m not quite small but not quite a medium I have a lot of facts but have to Wikipedi-‘em There’s a lot that I just infer But there's four things I know for sure: I’ll never be the best I’ll never be the worst I’ll never be the last one on earth Or the first For all parts that make up me There’s a thousand I’ll never be I’ll never be a pot of coffee Or marching bands Or play Rachmaninoff-y With enormous hands I’ll never be a potion Or an ocean wave Or an obstinate hair That won’t shave I’ll never be Mr. Ed Or Dr. Scholl’s Or get all the jobs Or land all the roles I’ll never reach up high Or tie my shoes Or anchor the 90s news I’ll never be a tasty sandwich Or a cask of beer Nor will I accomplish every Task this year I’ll never be the best I’ll never be the worst I’ll never be the last one on earth Or the first

I’m cookin' up a stew I’m rockin’ the potlucks I’m talk of the town Like who is the fella who’s got the root vegetables down I’m whipping up some brunch I’m skilled with the skillet I waffle, I bake And I’d take a gamble on any old scramble I make How the thoughts stood still when stakes were high I fumbled fishing for a line I crumbled wishing I could Mix in with your palate but my Lightly tossed word salad was too Oily so this boy leafed through the Cookbooks for advice against the clock We had the spice but not the stock All that’s left now just An old cookie crumble A memento Food for thought I’m makin' split pea soup I’m real epicurious, trying homemade with ham-hocks Yeah I’m serious, nothin’ out of the box I’m clippin’ up some thyme I grow my own rosemary Parsley and sage Heartbreak like all the old sayings Gets better with age How the thoughts stood still when stakes were high I fumbled fishing for a line I crumbled wishing I could Mix in with your palate but my Lightly tossed word salad was too Oily so this boy leafed through the Cookbooks for advice against the clock No matter how the dish was peppered Its success remained in jeopardy The mess was something deeper In the base how long to steep Or maybe we were face to face With oil and water in the bottom of the pot And what we got Would not suffice We had the talk We had the spice but not the stock All that’s left now just An old cookie crumble A memento Food for thought

In the month of February I am contemplating spring Time is never at rest So I try my best at pacing Just to see if it’ll help Can’t right now, I’ll do it later, Leave to fate or push to Maybe another time Today’s just not the day to force a Reason for the rhythm or the rhyme I’m sorry It feels so far even though it fills my days Flash to June, the desktop cluttered Hopes not shuttered, I’ll wrap soon Late nights and sips of scotch The city watches the fog roll in While the writer shelters with Lagavulin Now it’s fall Quite frankly all I have to show for it is this Short chorus, a scribbled page The vague half-finished verse Becoming irrelevant and a little worse with age I’m sorry It feels so far even though it fills my days Isn’t it noble to be a bard Isn’t it human to tell a story Is it normal to wanna discard All of the lyrics I wrote before Even the good ones I think they’re all trash In music I’m reminded How in time it all falls out of fashion So I think I’ll just quit! Come along Joel It’s just a song Joel I wasn’t planning to take so long I had a vision at twenty three Deep revelation within nine songs So that the future remembers me Well look at that ego Isn’t all this quite conceited? Won’t I want to change the verses When they’re finally completed? I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry it took so long

It’s 1528, anno domini Last year I donned the robes of black And joined the monastery I heard of this guy named Luther Turns out he’s not real cool with indulgences So he assembled the truth, sir And nailed it onto a door for the world to see I consider myself a pretty worldly guy The kind of monk who’s grabbed an ale with Henry V-triple-I (I-I-I!) So I posted my own theses, just for kicks Don’t mean to toot my horn, but there were 96. The very next day I went to greet the undoubtedly large crowd at the door But to my dismay my sacred piece of parchment was no more Instead of my work, neatly nailed to the door was a note that so passive aggressively read: “No unauthorized signage shall be posted on this door. It is only to be used for entering and exiting. Signed, head of the monastery, Abbot John.” Unbelievable He thinks he rules the monastery Well I mean he kinda does but anyway This new life as a monk is really solitary I just want people to hear me But this Abbot guy’s making it really… I don’t even know what to say sometimes It’s just like…fuckin’ Abbot, do you know what I mean? Okay, nobody got to read my theses in the end I think I’ve got an idea that’ll put me in a history codex I will write a mass that will transcend The very fabric of music in this time I consider myself a pretty musical man The kind of monk who’s played a few notes with Josquin So I wrote my not-so-ordinary mass Don’t mean to toot my horn, but it was pretty bad ass I gathered the boys that night to sing through all my notes The most beautiful voice came out of all those monk-y throats Well just as we got to the third Kyrie, there came a knock on the door from that Abbot to say: “As we know and signed in our rental agreement, quiet hours in the Abbey start promptly at 4pm.” It’s just like...fuckin’ Abbot. You know what I mean though. I went to the Abbot’s office for to say “I’ve had enough of your Machiavellian antics” But something curious happened on that day When we came face to face, I got all nervous I consider myself a pretty eloquent dude But when I looked in his eyes, I started feelin' a mood Sometimes I can’t believe the evils of man I think, “I guess I’ll leave, maybe check out the Quran” But when I consider a life without him I get a little bit sad and grim What are these feelings that suddenly arise When I think of his beautiful, sparkling, shimmering, smoldering…Abbot-y eyes? He’s condescending and bosses me around But something just makes me feel safe and sound Hey, Mr. Abbot! I think I’m falling for you. I know it’s a little crazy but Hey, Mr. Abbot! Can’t you see that we could be two? I just want you to be near me Even though you’ve always been distant cold and icy It's like I always say: the cold never bothered me anyway I guess you could say... I’m just a benedictine guy who’s been addicted to you.