SIDEWALK 
            SONG
            Music and words by Jenn Lindsay
            BMI #
          Someone 
            make something called can of sleep
            So we can stay up making love and writing music all week
            You rub my shoulders like I'm hoping you would do
            The part of my shoulders that's just pebbles and spoons
            You play a song on my living room floor
            With college dorm Christmas lights and stars on the wall
            All the bad blood from all the times before
            It melts away it melts into the door
            The sounds fill me up they melt through me
            If I could play and listen I would be maybe sorta happy
            But I know I have to go places I don't wanna be
            I know I have to put out for things that I don't care about Still 
            I could maybe be partially halfway happy You cut your own hair, you 
            wear a velvet jacket Kimya is singing about a velveteen rabbit You 
            push me outa bed I run my hands over your head Your hair will flatten 
            and stand up under my hand Like I imagine a rabbit would feel under 
            my hand
          Paleface 
            has a beautiful face
            I do an impression just to make myself laugh
            But I just don't have a face like that,
            half Peter pan, half Cat in the Hat,
            half turpentine and half little boy
            detachable bike seat, beat up guitar
            I feel better, I feel proud, on the outside of the inside of a crowd
          I leave 
            the Sidewalk Café
            And I can hear the train from a minute away
            I'm bing-bong closer to my home
            Or bing-bong closer to a job I loathe
            Regina and I sing the 6 Train strings
            We sing the strings in perfect key
            Casey says the train cries "Get in my belly,"
            The belly of the city, the sweat of the air,
            The ass of the gutter, the public bathroom air,
            The hard cough of traffic, the throat of the street,
            The gritty hard lungs of the lovely street
          On Monday 
            I will sing a new song
            I think about it too much it comes out all wrong
            I don't know why I do this at all
            I just want to leave I want to sell my guitar
            I wonder why it scares me so much
            Cuz sometimes I write a song I love
            I wake up at four to play it again
            In the dark I really feel I've done something
            I hope it's enough for him cuz it's enough for me
            Maybe I could go now and be
            Maybe I could go now and be
            Maybe I could go now and be
            Partially sorta halfway
            Half-wheelbarrow half-black sparrow happy