White Claw Lies (a song)

Lyrics by Bud Koenemund
Music (to be determined)

For Jenna

I can’t help but answer when she calls.
I know what she wants, but I can’t resist;
she begs, and pleads to come over,
and my ever hopeful heart will insist.
I’ll enjoy the trace of watermelon
still lingering on her soft lips,
and the intoxicating way that demon
drink makes her swing those hips.

[Chorus] Her coming here throws gas on embers that never burned out;
               But, I can’t blame her. We both know it’s my flaw;
               Re-igniting flames that’ll only warm one of us.
               No, it ain’t the whiskey I’m singing about;
               it’s not beer, gin, or even that damned tequila;
               it’s her White Claw lies that’ll leave me a mess.

I don’t know how many she’s had, but
she’ll be mine again, for a little while.
I oughta say no; be strong and save myself,
but my strength fades every time I see that smile.
There’s no doubt it’s a mistake to let her in.
But, her arms wrap around me as she floats through the door,
and, in an instant, I’m all hers again
before her pretty sundress even hits the floor.

[Chorus]

She’ll fulfill the promises she made on the street;
driving me wild, and messin’ up my sheets.
But, momentary happiness only leads to sorrow
when, it’s no surprise, she’s gone tomorrow.
She’ll slip away before the sun comes up;
leaving me all alone, and beggin’,
knowing I shouldn’t have believed her,
after those White Claw lies fooled me again.

[Chorus]

I can’t help but answer when she calls…

The Truth

The only people who affect the "sanctity" of your marriage are you and your spouse. The couple next door -- whatever their gender composition -- doesn't change your commitment. And, couples across the street, across town, or across the country have absolutely no control over the strength and validity of your marriage!

-  Bud Koenemund

Healing

For New York City - December 2001

A multi-ethnic mass of humanity
on the street; scurrying, bumping, jostling
without even a mumbled apology.
Bodies rushing everywhere; and nowhere.
People from around the world; here now
the artists and the crackpots,
the addicts and their crack-pipes,
and half-naked cowboys in Times Square.

Visitors craning their necks, looking skyward,
walking slowly along the broad sidewalks
taking countless pictures of the Big City;
holding hands tightly as if it will swallow them up!
They take in the fantasy-like glimmering
beauty filled with blazing neon signs
hiding the dark reality underneath
with their glowing sensuality.

I feel so perfectly at home here
in this place of bold, black strokes
and colorful, wildly psychedelic metaphors
here at the crossroads of the universe;
where even the wildest of dreams
can come amazingly true.
A place where I can find myself
and become lost in the crowd.

The power of this city radiates
up and down the wide Avenues of legend,
across the Streets of lore,
and through every building in between.
No place in the world can compare
to all of its glitz and glamour,
or to the always exciting hint of danger
hiding just under the surface.

The real strength of this great city
rests not in its buildings, but in its people!
It lies in their diversity and their character,
in their determination and their resolve!
It is the weird, and the wonderfully strange,
as well as the everyday normal people
that make this city what it is.
I love this City!