Tightrope: (G). Come on up here on the tightrope, there's room enough for two. And if you're feeling kind of (D) dizzy, I'll lend a hand to steady (G) you. When you wake up underwater, And think you're alone down there. Don't forget that we're together, And soon we'll come up for air. (G) Climb aboard, we'll see the (C) world, (C) Don't need an ocean (Em) view, and if you feel A little (D) seasick, (C) I've got a (D) lifeboat for (G) two. Break em7#5 then Em11. So few can celebrate the big wins, But that's the easy thing to do. miracles happen everyday, It's little victories for me & you. G). Come on up here on the tightrope, there's room enough for two. And if you're feeling kind of (C) dizzy, I'll lend a hand to steady (G) you.

snow is falling, gently and without sound. all is peaceful, i cannot see the ground. i turn my head but no one is around. there i lay down the snow creates a mound. the cold takes me, i fall into a trance. i cannot think, darkness fills the expanse. life seems empty, never gave it a chance. i lay entombed, unable to advance. the sun appears its light warming my face the thaw is slow but love is not a race i stand again i'm free to leave this place i feel alive no longer a disgrace.

Lizzie Didn’t Do It 12 angry men figured it out, 90 minutes not a reasonable doubt before things get carried away, let the girl have her say she didn’t do it, no no she didn’t do it. Set free by the jury, found guilty by the free Lizzie left all her money, to the animal league, it sells papers, no no she didn’t do it. Chorus: Lizzie didn’t do it, they couldn’t get the girl to confess you know she didn’t do it, an axe leaves a terrible mess Lizzie didn’t do it, cause they never even found her dress. It’s happened before, it’s happening again after her day in court, the real trial began she didn’t do it, no no she didn’t do it. Fall River’s always had a way, of pulling you in Blood, regrets and rumors, the papers say she didn’t do it, no no she didn’t do it. Chorus: Lizzie didn’t do it, cause they never even found her dress you know she didn’t do it, cause one spot is never a mess Lizzie didn’t do it, cause they never even found her dress.

G G# I WAS DOWN AND I NEEDED A FIX FORGET ABOUT YOU AND ALL YOUR TRICKS I WAS LONELY AND I NEEDED A SHOVE SENT ME OVER THE EDGE FIGHTING FOR YOUR LOVE FOR YOUR LOVE (X2) G G# IF I FRY MY MIND, WILL IT MAKE ME SURE THAT 200 VOLTS IS A MIRACLE CURE TROUBLES ARISE, THAT I CAN SEE CAN I BE WHAT YOU WANT AND STILL BE ME STILL BE ME (X2)

The pussy trail was colder than a dead pimp's heart when I finally decided to throw caution to the wind and head for my last resort, my lonely port in the storm. I walked up the rain-slicked street, the four story dump getting bigger and bigger, like a mother ready to throw me over her knee and spank me. I kept on walking up Truman anyway. The Long T ran along the big river and the wind blew a smell like a whorehouse at 5am in my face. Had it really come down to this? It thundered and the rain came down in buckets. I took refuge in a darkened doorway and lit a cigarette, my last one. As I smoked, I thought about what I was going to have to do. All of my old stomping grounds had come up dry. The bank turned me away like a congressman would a homeless person. They already knew my four ex-wives had all my money. Four women, each one colder than the last, like the innermost layers of Dante's hell. The beauty parlor was also a bust. It used to be women with names like Blanche and Florence would haul my ashes whenever I wanted. Now I'm decades older, and worse yet, so are they. There will be plenty of time to plow women my own age when I'm dead. The numbers across the street got higher and higher. 219, 223, 227. I felt a rock in the pit of my stomach and my feet felt like lead. At least part of my body had some sense. My heart was beating faster and I couldn't tell if it was fear or the beginning stages of a heart attack. I stopped across the street from the flophouse apartment buildling, trying to summon the will to go on. I thought about waiting for the rain to dissolve the apartment building one molecule at a time but decided to cross the street instead. I wiped my feet on the greasy doormat and thought about praying. No good. The churches wouldn't have me either. I fumbled into my pocket for the key I swiped, unlocked the door, and went inside. The lobby was empty. This far north on Truman, no landlord could afford to keep a doorman and couldn’t trust anyone who would take the job. The once white tile floor was stained from years of use and neglect, many tiles brown around the edges like the roots of a rotten tooth. I found the elevator but the Out of Order sign was so old it had yellowed. I opted for the stairs instead. The stairwell was narrow and smelled like piss. It was dimly lit and I felt like I was climbing the steps to a gallows. The carpet on the stairs was threadbare and probably older than me. The stairs themselves bowed in the middle from decades of use. I was panting by the time I reached the second floor landing. Once I was sure could talk without embarrassing myself, I walked down the labyrinthine hallway. The hallway smelled of mildew and boiled cabbage. Paint was peeling from the walls and I could hear a baby crying from behind one of the doors. A rat brazenly crossed the hallway as I reached 2F. I brushed aside grime and paint flakes and pressed my ear against the door. The radio was on, playing something with a lot of brass and percussion, but I could still hear someone talking. I took a few moments to get into character and knocked on the door. I waited and rehearsed what I was going to say. When no one appeared, I knocked again, harder, jarring loose dust and flakes of paint. The door creaked open and a shrivelled shrew of a woman stuck her head into the hallway. "What the hell are you knocking for, Harold. You fucking live here!" I hung my head and followed her inside.