GOOD MORNING, HACKENSACK
(Timothy Brickley & David Rheins)
Another day without daylight
in this dirty Jersey kitchen,
the toaster oven's burning
something left from last night's supper.
There are only seconds ticking
by the clock beneath the ceiling
that you promised me you'd fix,
but it's been months.
I wonder where the love went in our lives
as I soap the sudsy sponge against the knives
and curse my lesser moments
before my better half.
Good morning, Hackensack.
Good morning, Dot and Jack.
Good morning, Hackensack.
It's another dreary evening
in this empire without dreaming
and I've only half an hour
before my bed.
So I take another shot for my head
and it's almost like the morning will never come.
I drink myself good and proper numb
and toast the best to my old auntie Dot
and fondly boast of days with uncle Jack.
Good morning, Hackensack.
Good morning, Dot and Jack.
Good morning, Hackensack.
And if the tale of my poor life was read,
they could probably say been off better dead
because much was ventured when all in fact is lost, and
an empty box of broken heart is all you can show off.
Each day ends as another begins.
each night you pray for something more
and wonder what we're living for
and curse it all as just a bore.
But what the heck and what the hell,
it's been good fun, it's been just swell.
Good morning, Hackensack.
Good morning, Dot and Jack.
Good morning, Hackensack.
Copyright 1990, Timothy Brickley & David Rheins.
Jeff Chapin: drums.
Bill Moss: bass.
TB: piano, synthi,acoustic/electric guitars, vox.
