The Mnemonic Devices: 20th Century Literary Problem

I Used Up All Your Icons
written by Rusty Spell

We used to dance and sing in the rain, like two English majors in love. We held hands in the summer and drank wine cruising down the highway. We smoked cigarettes on wilderness roads, and kissed 100,000 times. Our smoky breath choked us both, but that is not the reason we cried.

There was a time when our eyes were young, when we thought we would never die. We counted stars in the sky that were scattered like grains of sand. The moon never looked away, 'cause it would follow us to London on a train. But, baby, in the mirror, see the winter in the sky and say goodbye.

(And) (But) I used up all your icons, then threw them all away. Familiar like a lover's embrace, it seemed to me cliche. I used up all your icons then plugged them in a hole. Now at least that knot's not empty, but who will fill my soul?

We sung songs on the sugar beach, said "ciao" to the New York city life, chased fireflies, drank cocktails in our 20th century world. But now it is June and I pine for the cold of the candy snow. I would chase you if I knew that you were somewhere but Tokyo.

You took pictures with my Nikon, then threw them all away. But their image is still burned in your mind, so, darling, won't you stay? You need a shoulder to cry on. You need the country songs I could write. I could give you everything if you would only come back tonight.

I Keep Falling In Love
written by Rusty Spell

I need to quit falling in love with all the people I'll never meet, like Zlata Filipovic or little Annie Frank. They just make me feel so weird. It must be something in their words. I know one is only sixteen years old and the other is already dead, but...

I keep falling in love, cause, man, it's just so easy, but, Lord, is it so hard...

I've got a lack of direction, and I don't know where I am. I see scattered dots all over the world, and they're shining in my mind. I want to meet them all, want to curl with them at night, but I'm swimming in the Gulf of Mexico and the salt is getting in my eyes, and...

I play guitar and I write, but the sounds always come out wrong. I would get you to teach me about it all, but you're miles away from my home. What is she doing now? Is she sleeping at this hour? Or is she awake maybe thinking that I'm awake maybe thinking of her? I know that...

Is That The Same Moon?
written by Rusty Spell

I saw Neil... in 1969. Walked outside... I saw no different shine. I met you... in summer-summertime. In the sky... I see a different shine.

Is that the same moon? Is that the same tune? Since I have met you, my February is June. Is that the same moon? Is that the same tune? Since I have met you, I have to wonder... Is that the same moon?

In my world... the sand is full of flowers. My dry land... is full of April showers. And your song... it seems to last for hours. And your kiss... hangs over me like towers.

I admit the world's no different. It's spun the same all along. And I know the little birdies have always sung the same song. I remember all the daydreams, the image I had of you. I'm so lost and I can't handle that all this fantasy's true.

Is that the same moon? Is that the same tune? Since I have met you, my February is June. Are these my same eyes? Are those the same skies? Since I have met you, everything's a surprise. Is that the same moon? Is that the same tune? Since I have met you, my February is June. Is that the same moon? Is that the same tune? Since I have met you, I have to wonder... Is that the same moon?

All Alone
written by Rusty Spell

I had to pull out my thesaurus the first time I met you; your words were so small that their simplicity hurt my ears. And when love came and saw us trying desperately to stay away, practicality fought it and held out for all those years.

Now I'm just standing all alone... And you're just waiting for me... And I'm just waiting for you... And you're just standing all alone...

I needed something else to say; my humor had gone to sleep, and our solemn conversation had vanished to another land. Affection molded us like clay on a pottery wheel that day, but we laughed it off in tears cause we never did understand.

Now you're just standing all alone... And I'm just waiting for you... And you're just waiting for me... And I'm just standing all alone...

I just wanted to tell you that I still love you. And I believe in my heart that you love me, too. I think that if we gave it a shot that it could work out this time. So, baby, please... ah, forget it. I'll never tell her the truth... never!

Now we are standing all alone... And I'm here waiting with you... And you're here waiting with me... And we are standing all alone...

Looks like we're standing all alone. Why don't you call me on the phone? I didn't mean to use that tone. Looks like we're standing all alone.

written by Rusty Spell

I sometimes think our lovelife is insane, not hard to plot on the Cartesian plane. Were spontaneity there, we'd probably get more done, not needing clocks to time the setting sun.

I sometimes wish that you would marry me, so simple to get down upon one knee. You should throw away ideas of your discarded world. It was you who said I was your favorite girl.

I sometimes think I should listen to my friends, though their boring conversation never ends. You were the very one who first took me away, but you brought me back, and now you want to stay.

Please... Let's go... I'm tired... Please... Let's stop... I'm wired... Please... My mind... Is gone... Please... Sing me... new songs...

I sometimes think that I have tried too hard, like hurling all your notebooks in the yard. I could try to settle myself into this disenchanted land. My senses would dull, but at least I wouldn't understand.

I sometimes wish that joy did not use change. My living without both is no longer strange. You'd flicker and you'd shine whenever I would dance. But your light is off, and you won't give it a chance.

Please... Don't say... It's done... Please... Need me... I'm young... Please... Though I... Know why... Please... Before... I die...

I Love My Feet
written by Rusty Spell

When I see the bad in the universe, I realize it ain't too funky. I feel I must just save it all. I'll catch a plane to a third world country.

Well, my husband's neat, but I hate his feet. If he'd cut them off, it would be real boss.

When I drink coffee wearing peasant skirts, I feel like I'm a writer. I'll buy myself some groovy pens to go along with my cigarette lighter.

You Need to Awaken
written by Rusty Spell

Your story... I will admit its ambition, all right. Your comet... is not even coming for us tonight. But your talk... gets a bit out of hand. Add a subtle layer of awareness, that your problem is not so grand. Some people don't have enough to eat, and really that's much more sad.

Your errors... they seem to actually work for you. Your girlfriend... infatuated with the color blue. But dumb luck... won't work like action will. Change the ending to act as denouement; allow for more free will. The planet is really nice and all, but not that big a deal.

Your notions... are far too simple, of beauty and truth. Your aesthetics... will not replicate the wonder of youth. But someday... you'll really fall in love. It will cost you a realization, and the answer won't come from above. You're afraid of ambiguity, but that's what life's made of.

Copyright (c) Jun 1998 by The Mnemonic Devices and Love and Letters Music