Cooky

For your Saturday pleasure, here are lyrics to a brand-new song, “Cooky.” I haven’t been writing a whole lot for myself lately, but this is a fun one. -h

I was wrong
You were right
#$*%&# (Go on) you can spell it how you like
Common sense be damned, full speed a-
Head; conventions never were your thing
Type those pretty thoughts into the
Night
Talking hard
I used “proscribe,” you called me out
You know I love to argue, babe, I
Don’t take prisoners but I’ll fight you fair
Maybe I’m the lunatic you’re looking for…

I don’t need to win, don’t ever walk away
From an honest debate
Hey, it doesn’t matter, doesn’t mean a thing
When did we stop having fun in here?
My Heart, I’m yours
And your sketchy spelling doesn’t change a thing about us
Trust me when I tell you…

She
Doesn’t know
Your name – I didn’t tell her who was
Talking like a cookbook from the
Fifties, I just said you were a friend
Anonymous as ever
At my job
Slacking off
Can we sharpen wits without it being
Hurtful? God I hope so, kid
I need to feel we’re cool with repartee
Holding back holds us apart…

Are you coming out tonight? I want to sing,
Run my hands through your hair
Your taste is like a tide that’s sweeping over me
When did this become a fight worth fighting?
Love, I’m yours
And your quiet, casting eyes don’t change a thing about us

Cowboys, Beastie Boys, crazy boys
All have a better claim on you than I can make my case for
Love, the dictionary has defeated me
We lost the battle, let’s win the war

I wuz rong
U wer rite
U kan spel it how u lyke

Because I don’t need to win, don’t ever walk away
From an honest debate
Hey, it doesn’t matter, doesn’t mean a thing
When did we stop having fun in here?
My Heart, I’m yours
And your sketchy spelling doesn’t change a thing about us
Trust me when I tell you that
My Heart, I’m yours
And your sketchy spelling doesn’t change a thing about us