#81 DANCING WITH THE MONKEY
#81 DANCING WITH THE MONKEY
(Americana)
(DEMO)
(Full Arrangement)
Dry mouth, metal taste, itchy fingers,
Now you've met the monkey.
Bottle on the table, you just watch it,
Now you're dancing with the monkey.
Four days gone, torn clothes in a strange room,
And now you've fed the monkey.
Got a call and I came straight over,
Intensive care, Jaxon's strung up in the bed.
Sees me, starts crying softly,
I lean in, he whispers "Wish I was dead."
Cop sippin' coffee asks "Who are you to him?"
I say "Friend, and sponsor since two thousand eight."
Cop sighs, rubs his neck, says "Needs a good lawyer."
"Drunk driving, wrong way on the interstate."
A lover, son or brother,
World calls you stupid drunk, dirty junkie.
Make sure today is not
A day you feed the monkey.
Cop gives me his card, tired eyes, steady gaze,
Says "He won't be booked til later."
"Wrecked before he hit someone, thank god."
Shakes his head as he walks to the elevator.
Jaxon waves his hand, wants me closer,
Whispers "I'm past help. Last place you should be."
Show him a phone picture -- open bottle, poured glass,
Say "I'm only here for you to help me."
Was a lover, son or brother,
Friends call you stupid drunk, dirty junkie.
Not much chance of winning when
Every day you feed the monkey.
Earlier that night, the itch starts screaming,
The monkey smiles, always scheming.
Went searching for something I've had since don't know when:
Now worn and dusty, unopened bottle of gin.
Faded label: "By appointment to the King"
Cracked the bottle, poured a glass... then my phone rings.
No more a lover, son or brother,
Family calls you stupid drunk, dirty junkie.
Wake up and keep on fighting,
Every second you feed the monkey.
Night rain pits and thrums on the window.
Jaxson turns away, won't look at me.
I sit beside the bed, take his hand.
Say "You decide who you want to be."
Down the road we might once again,
Lose to that bastard -- face-down passed out, front yard.
But for today, let's make a promise Jaxson:
"That fucking monkey's gonna starve."