(by Paul Guzzone) Straight out of high school and into a check-out line she went It’s not what she wanted, but every little bit helps to pay the rent. Her mamma works for the county. And daddy is away workin’ for the state. Mamma, she’s a file clerk, and daddy is stampin’ out license plates. She swore before she was a year older she would make a break. Never get caught lookin’ over her shoulder, makin’ her escape… To the northern lights, To the neon of the city nights. The intoxicating heights of the northern lights. Her register broke with twenty people waiting in line. She lost her temper. A customer thought he might lose his mind. “You need an attitude adjustment,” he said, “A reality check. Nobody owes you nothin’, girl. So, what the hell do you expect?” But she has no expectations, no priorities. She gets no satisfaction. She just wants to be ... In the northern lights, In the neon of the city nights. The intoxicating heights of the northern lights. Too young to feel this kind of pressure. Too young and just about to explode. Straight out of high school and into the wide open world she went with nothin’ to shoot for and no one to tell her what anything meant. Well, it’s hard to make a decision when you can’t even pretend that you have a choice, But you’re still hopin’ someday You may have a little reason to rejoice. All she wants is a happy ending just like on TV. She knows that it might happen If only she could be ... In the northern lights, In the neon of the city nights. The intoxicating heights of the northern lights. Northern lights. Northern lights. Northern lights. Northern lights. © 2000 Paul Guzzone (BMI) All rights controlled & administered by Triple Z, Inc.

(by Mary Ellen Bernard & Paul Guzzone) Rise up, Lazarus. Rise up and meet your destiny. Fly to the arms of your beloved ones. Give us a miracle we can see. Give us a miracle we can see. Give us a miracle we can see. You’re struck – with a lightning bolt. Get a calling card from the great beyond. You stand face-to-face with eternity but there’s never been a fight you haven’t won. Rise up, Lazarus. Rise up and meet your destiny. Fly to the arms of your beloved ones. Give us a miracle we can see. Give us a miracle we can see. Give us a miracle we can see. You’re trapped – in the catacomb Burning to finish what’s left undone. Is it a power divine or the power in you pulls you out of the dark into the sun. Rise up, Lazarus. Rise up and meet your destiny. Fly to the arms of your beloved ones. Give us a miracle we can see. Give us a miracle we can see. Give us a miracle we can see. Don’t need no burning bush. Don’t need the hand of Moses to part the sea. Just need to see this resurrection, Need to see this resurrection. Make a believer out of me. Rise up. Listen – to the sounds of life. See us reaching out with healing hands. Just grab that line and hold on tight And they’ll sing Hallelujah in the Promised Land. Rise up, Lazarus. Rise up and meet your destiny. Fly to the arms of your beloved ones. Give us a miracle we can see. Give us a miracle we can see. Give us a miracle we can see. Rise up. © 2000 Mary Ellen Polentz & Paul Guzzone (BMI) All rights controlled & administered by Triple Z, Inc.

(by Paul Guzzone & Mary Ellen Bernard) I'd run down to the corner, to hear those a cappella songs. My brother, he'd be bragging ‘bout his girlfriend all night long. There was nothing that could stop those boys They laughed the year away. And when he was in trouble, I could hear my brother say: Hey! Me and the boys. We'll make a lot of noise. You'll see. Me and the boys. We'll make a lot of noise. Yeah. We'll shake it up. The boys down in the mailroom, I know I’ll never make them see why I can’t find the humor in the way they hit on me. So I just laugh or walk on by, try to keep the wolves at bay. But, you know, it makes my blood run cold every time I hear them say ... I can hear them say: Hey! Me and the boys. We'll make a lot of noise. Hey girl, it's party time! Me and the boys. We'll make a lot of noise. Yeah We'll shake it up. Forget about the power plays, Let’s find some common ground. But the walls keep getting higher even while we try to tear them down. Let's tear them down. Those gay boys I knew in college, went to heaven one by one. They weren't the type you'd bring home to Mom, but boy they sure were fun. We never would be lovers, but we'd be the best of friends. And when I got tired of the games men played I'd run right back to them. I'd say: Me and the boys. We'll make a lot of noise. We’ll sing all night! Me and the boys. We'll make a lot of noise. Yeah. Sounds so sweet. We'll shake it up. © 2000 Mary Ellen Polentz & Paul Guzzone (BMI) All rights controlled & administered by Triple Z, Inc.

(by Paul Guzzone) I know we’re not getting any younger. I know we got started too late. Love is blind and there is no justice. Yeah, baby, ain’t life great. I know we’re not getting any younger. I know we got started too late. Look at us just a couple of misfits, Let’s you and me have a date. Some people got no opinions. Some people got no one to call. Some people can talk for hours And pretty much say nothin’ at all. Some people are innocent tourists Got lost in a cynical town. That’s why I’m glad I found you And you let me hang around. Oooh... lets just hang around. I know we’re not getting any younger. I know we got started too late. Love is blind and there is no justice. Yeah, baby, ain’t life great. I know we’re not getting any younger. I know we got started too late. Look at us just a couple of misfits, Let’s you and me have a date. You can find true love in a truck stop. You can find true love on stage. Or you can find yourself in trouble With a lover that’s half your age. You can have a mid-life crisis, Turn in early turn out the light. But I think we’re just getting started. Come on baby let’s rave all night. Oooh... let’s just rave all night. © 2000 Paul Guzzone (BMI) All rights controlled & administered by Triple Z, Inc.

(by Mary Ellen Bernard & Paul Guzzone) He was a man who was good with his hands. That was what everyone said. He’d spell words from the paper to his A-plus daughter. She’d tell him what he’d read. He never went past the fifth grade in school; didn’t know anybody who did. But he worked in the mines and he drove Model T’s when he was only a kid. And all during Prohibition he ferried bootlegged gin. He was Cagney and Bogart rolled into one, he’d tell you again and again. He could fix anything anyone gave him. His fingernails seldom were clean. He could build a new room, or a stage for your puppets, and anything in between. Now he spends afternoons down at the tavern looking for someone to blame cause these days everything’s made in a factory, and all he can do is complain. ‘Cause the handy man’s days are over. Being handy, it just doesn’t pay. No one bothers to fix things now; they just throw them away. What will we do when the world is all broken and littered with broken men? Who will be able to pick up the pieces and put them together again? No one will know how to pick up the pieces – and put them together again. © 2000 Mary Ellen Polentz & Paul Guzzone (BMI) All rights controlled & administered by Triple Z, Inc.

(by Mary Ellen Bernard & Paul Guzzone) Once – I used to be so stable Now I’m feeling co-dependent Although I have no idea what co-dependent means. My psyche – once in perfect working order. now is sputtering to a crawl and has stalled in a mass of insecurities. But you – You wear self-knowledge like a halo. You’ve achieved the higher ground while I remain here in a state of maladjustment. Yes, you – You are dropping all your baggage. You are dealing with your issues. But why is it the saner your become – the crazier I get. And with preachers in the subway, And psychics on TV, With self-help on the Internet, And with friends like you ... who needs therapy? I admit it – I may be in denial of my curious compulsions, and lacking in self-knowledge of my phobias too numerous to mention. However – There are people who are worse off. I see them on the talk shows although they could just be actors, that’s what people always say. But with preachers in the subway, And psychics on TV, With self-help on the Internet, And with friends like you ... who needs therapy? There is nothing I can do. To keep my deepest thoughts from you I reveal myself and let you throw it back at me. So – I guess that means I’m masochistic. But then what does that make you? And if I were perfect, you’d be happy, but I’d be so boring. Besides – I like the way I am. I am proud of my dysfunctions. And what good is it to make up all these crazy names for what is basically bad behavior. But with preachers in the subway, And psychics on TV, With self-help on the Internet, And with friends like you ... who needs therapy? Oooh-oooh therapy Oooh-oooh therapy © 2000 Mary Ellen Polentz & Paul Guzzone (BMI) All rights controlled & administered by Triple Z, Inc.

(by Mary Ellen Bernard & Paul Guzzone) You forgot to lock the car. You left your keys on the kitchen table. You never called your mama back. The phone is ringing off the hook. The coffee’s boiling over. And you left me standing in the rain. The milk is turning sour. The TV’s on and the radio’s playing. The ice is melting in the sink. The bed was never slept in. The mailman thinks we’ve died. And I’m still standing in the rain. I guess I must have slipped your mind. Slid off to another place and time. The thought of me just fled your little head. I guess I must have slipped your mind. I guess I must have slipped your mind. I sure hate to remind you You always have been absent-minded. Why can’t you remember the one you’re supposed to love. Now the sugar bowl is empty. The house is feeling emptier still And I’m tired of standing in the rain. I guess I must have slipped your mind. Slid off to another place and time. The thought of me just fled your little head. I guess I must have slipped your mind. I guess I must have slipped your mind. I got places where I got to be And I got lots of things I can do. So maybe if you can’t remember me, Baby, Well, I’ll just forget about you. I guess I must have slipped your mind. Slid off to another place and time. The thought of me just fled your little head. I guess I must have slipped your mind. I guess I must have slipped your mind. I guess I must have slipped your mind. © 2000 Mary Ellen Polentz & Paul Guzzone (BMI) All rights controlled & administered by Triple Z, Inc.

(by Paul Guzzone) He had very deep pockets, she had very big hair. It was love at first sight, and true love is so rare. He remembered that night though it was very long ago. Gold chains, cheap cologne, Bee Gees on the radio. He took her to a nightclub, dinner, and a dance, hoping to impress her, wishing for romance. He did all the talking’. She hardly said a word. Then he began to worry was he starting to sound absurd. She said: “Oh no... these are the days of our lives. Always remember. Live it up, baby, ‘cause these are the days of our lives.” Yeah, these are the days of our lives. The days of our lives.” Since then he’s been through a marriage with a couple-a-kids. Has them every other weekend just like his daddy did. He reaches out his hand. hears them crying’ in the dark. They’re shaking’ off the innocence, Trying’ to make their mark. But sometimes he wishes he could be like them, with no reason to worry and someone to look after him. But he says: “Oh no... these are the days of our lives No matter what happens Live it up, baby, ‘cause these are the days of our lives. These are the days.” He met a woman at his job from the temporary pool. Recently single, she was going back to school. He began feeling things he’d forgotten long ago. When she took him by the hand and they both jumped out into the great unknown. © 2000 Paul Guzzone (BMI) All rights controlled & administered by Triple Z, Inc.