(This Is) Forget About This

One eye open, who drank the wine?
Power plant leak, send iodine,
Fifteen-to-life for a petty crime,
Burning bush, first warming sign,
Verse without a catchy rhyme,
Six feet of water in Evangeline

CHORUS
This is... forget about this

White makes right in the cruiser’s light,
Driver’s license and Miranda rights,
Shot of dread with your daily slight,
Uptight, says Stevland, out of sight,
Dancing with the stars,
Dancing with the stars tonight
In a conga line of satellites

CHORUS

BRIDGE
World’s dying from a Wuhan bat,
Fifty million dumb red hats,
Listen to the AR rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat-tat,
Forget about this,
Forget about that

Toothless head in a mustache brain,
Twenty-four hours of nonstop rain,
Crash in the canyon, chronic pain, 
Slip downtown with a skull-handled cane,
Toxins cross the mom’s membrane,
Hey, come on down,
Come on down to the swirling drain,
Come on down…

CHORUS

Friedlander

Naked women,
I stopped on that page first,
Fifty-six years old,
I’m the worst, I’m the worst,
(Such a thirst)

New York City in 1963,
I remember those buses,
Squat, green and dingy,
Markered on the seat in front of me:
”Carmine DeSapio is a pimp”
(Carmine DeWho is a what?!)

Guess the world was black and white,
Until with a click,
That Leica switched on the light,
Blowing out the New York night

CHORUS 1
Life comes flooding,
In all its grayscale candor

Reflections of refractions, 
Ice cream window,
The Duke and John Coltrane,
Across her back Lee’s shadow 
(In the rearview mirror)

Slices, slabs and shards,
Closeups on round TVs,
And signs and signs and signs,
Coney dogs and chili
(And spaghetti)

CHORUS 2
Life comes cartwheeling,
In all its grayscale splendor,
Through the hound-dog eyes
Of Friedlander

Factories and shops,
Trucks and cars,
Down to Earth,
And life on Mars,
Life in bars
(Life in bars on Mars,
Life on Mars in bars)

CODA
Friedlander!
Carmine DeSapio!
Sarah Vaughn!
JFK!
Madonna Ciccone
In the nude!
(That’s where I came in)
Butte, Montana!
Kansas City, MO!
Tokyo, Tokyo!
Don't forget the Motor City…
(Don’t forget the Motor City…)

NELLCÔTE

Together we dreamed it,
Note for note,
By the Hinder Sea
In the spell of Nellcôte

We were fluent in words
We did not understand,
Made perfectly clear by the 
Shapes of our hands

CHORUS
Oh, to be in Nellcôte,
Floating above the clouds,
Far from the madding crowds,
Dirty, dangerous, and loud

Grifting gendarmes at the gate
And knife-wielding dealers,
Raucous feasts,
And rare-guitar stealers

Needy friends and lovers, 
Clowns brimming with rue,
In a swirling 12-ring circus
Around me and around you

CHORUS  

BRIDGE
Aren’t we all just looking for
An idyll by the sea,
Gauzy days, 
Chipping with the goddess
Ah, sweet, twisted reverie

How did it happen
Against all odds,
There’s a record of it somewhere —
Gift of the gods?

It’s a secret to us,
Guess we'll take it to our graves,
In the Kingdom of Nellcôte
Beneath wine-dark waves.

CHORUS

LANTERNS LIVE AT THE RUSSELL

You may not know that you missed ‘em,
Guys in the band didn’t know,
No one on Earth knew they missed ‘em,
Here comes one last show

CHORUS
Oh, they’re back,
Lanterns live at the Russel,
Back!            
Oh they’re back,          
Live at the Russell,
Back!
The Lanterns live

Jackie Gleason lived at the Russell,
Whole seventh floor, painted black,
Hotel manager was drummer’s daddy,
Always sent up a room service snack

We practiced in rooms that were empty,
But far enough from Gleason’s freak show,
We were just kids, 12 and 13,  
We’d soon learn, then didn’t know

CHORUS

Lanterns played all the parties,
Played all the high school proms,
But signing to Kama Sutra was 
Just a gift to Carmine’s mobbed-up mom

CHORUS

One fucking bubblegum single,
Potato Chips, backed with Putt-Putt Ride,
Last year, vinyl nerds brought it back,
Fifty years after it first died

BRIDGE
Who’s left of the Lanterns?
The left-behinds’ left-behind,
Drums was first to go,
OD’d on smack at one-nine,

Lead guitar’s pretty face got trashed
In a drunken car crash,
Bass can’t walk, barely talk,
Would-be Mick is fat and bald

But Bo on Farfisa,
Retired from the Army,
He’s always looking for
Something to do

CHORUS (PARTIAL)
So they’re back!
Whoever they is...
Back! Lanterns, back.

SAD GUITARS

My baby likes a playlist, 
It’s called Sad Guitars,
We listen to it often, 
As we drive in her old Saab car

CHORUS
Sad Guitars,
Baby likes sad guitars,
Baby likes sad...

She paints little pictures,
Sees things that are not there,
Clicks on her playlist,
Shakes out her curly hair to…

CHORUS

Pictures of plants that died,
And trees that are deathly ill (They’re really very ill),
Cone-shaped dogs sniffing ass
Floating eyes and flat roadkill

CHORUS

BRIDGE
Mouse or moose toe?
Famous thing that she once said,
Stopped traffic on Sixth Avenue,
Ah, no, banana peel instead

CHORUS

Blue-eyed boho mama,
Her mind’s in a far-out state,
That’s why I love her,
And asked her to be my mate

It’s sad guitars…
Now I like sad guitars.

PALOMAR

Name rhymes with husk,
He put up a car,
Wants to live on Mars,
On Earth, predicts a civil war

Back in a long ago space-time,
We watched the exploding sky,
Learning everything will die
But love is not a lie

CHORUS 1
We were all dreamers
On a mountain,
With a cook named Lars,
Potatoes au gratin
And staring at the stars
Shining days of Palomar

Supper before sunset
At the Big Eye
Stayed up all night the night
Minkowski found 3C-295

Nothing more far away
At the time,
Five billion light years,
Boggled minds — or was that Minkowski’s bourbon?

CHORUS 2
We were all dreamers
On a mountain,
With a cook named Lars,
Potatoes au gratin
And staring at the stars
Soaring days of Palomar

Name rhymes with dusk,
He puts up a car,
Wants to die on Mars,
On Earth, puts up a fascist arm

Nothing more far away,
Nothing more far 
From the days and nights of Palomar

I miss the days of Palomar.

SHORT CLOCK

Shaved head, black tee, black earbuds 
Hang round his neck like a stethoscope,
Black shades in his neckband,
Black jeans, eight-ball of coke

Before he sits, says you should know,
That is, us and the whole damn place,
I’m deeply intrigued by your project,
But let’s get going, I can’t stay

CHORUS
Got a short clock,
Checks his Apple watch,
Tick-tock,
Got a short clock,
Dabs his nose,
Short clock,
Shouts for a shot,
Short clock,
Bro, can you hear me?!
Short clock

Talks nonstop about cold fusion,
One of ten-thousand things he quote-unquote “did,”
Partner’s got a robot burger-joint concept,
Slaps down an NDA to keep it hid

Dumped his social site on AOL,
Just before the first dot-com crash,
A hundred mill was real money then,
Got that on me now, in cash 

CHORUS
(
Short clock)
Checks his Apple watch
(Tick-tock)
Tick-tock
(Short clock)
Dabs his nose
(Short clock)
Shouts for a shot
Short clock
Bro, can you hear me?!
Short clock

BRIDGE
Shifting the paradigm on parenthood,
Shifting the paradigm on pot,
Shifting the paradigm on paradigms, 
You in, chrissakes, or not?!?
In or not?!?

CODA
Everybody say crypto (crypto),
Samuel Bankman Fried
(Short cock)

Everybody say Theranos (Theranos),
Blood test fugazi
(Short cock)

Make some noise for A.I. (Ai-yi-yi-yi),
The Singularity
(Short cock)

Everybody say Trump U (Trump U)...
Fake university
(Short cock)

Everybody yell Fyre (Fire!)
Festival
(Not rockin’ by the sea)

Don’t forget Senhor
George Santos,
(Short cock)
Queen of mendacity,

Silent cheer for Rob and Fab,
Milli Vanilli OG’s...

BASED ON A GIRL

Based on a girl 
I met once in France,
Night of the horror 
Theater Bataclan

Here she comes running,
Speaking French way too fast,
Ah, you don’t understand,
Get out of the street,
Takes me by the hand

Shooters are coming,
We must get inside,
At a cafe nearby
Down steep cellar stairs,
We hurry to hide 

CHORUS
Based on a girl,
Constance is the name,
But I see the flag-waving femme
Of liberté fame

Creep back up the staircase,
Won’t be trapped in a hole,
Peek out to see
Troop trucks disgorge soldiers
Fanning out on patrol

Black boots and camo, 
Automatic black guns,
Itching to blast
Any drunk stumbles past
Or, god forbid, runs

BRIDGE
Here lies the night,
Ninety souls’ sudden flight
Killers still at large
Out there in the broken-heart dark
Of the City of Light

CHORUS
Based on a boy
Who never need fear,
With Marianne at his side
And Constance so near

Goddess of freedom,
So brave and serene,
Risked all
For a tongue-tied stranger
In a fraught Paris scene

I’m searching for Constance
I may always be
Tall girl from 
Rue Coquillière
Who tried to save me 

I’m searching for Constance  
I’m searching for Constance
I’m searching for Constance
And hope to find peace.

THE ROWERS ARE WAITING

I guess I’m supposed to say 
You were good and you were kind, 
Though it clenches my teeth 
And wrenches my mind

You could spin a good yarn,
I’ll give that much to you, 
If I could only overlook 
Its contempt for the Jews 

You said Blacks were like children,
Paid children no never mind,
Everyone is beneath you — that’s the point —
And far behind 

CHORUS 1
The rowers are waiting...
So good and so kind 

I guess it would kill you 
If you ever would die, mom, 
To meet two great-grands of color 
And a Hebrew with two moms 

Did I leave out our Chicano?
What you called the “mongrel race” 
Do you recall that kindness 
Spewing from your kind red face?

Oh, that’s cause she’s old, they say,
Just turned 1-0-2 
People, she’s been this way 
Since 1922 

CHORUS 2
The rowers are waiting... 
Here comes the rising tide

BRIDGE 
Emily Dickinson said,
Tell it slant, 
But sometimes you just can’t,
Sometimes you can’t, 
Excuse my rant 

She once tried to stab me, 
The scar is inside, 
Says her other son’s stupid, 
The one who’s crosseyed 

Stupid like Daddy, 
What she said when Daddy died,
Oh, too bright, Miss Emily? 
Let every man be blind 

CHORUS
The rowers are waiting...
By the river deep and wide
The rowers are waiting,
So well-dressed, so divine

ROOT BEER ROOT BEER

Down to the Oasis
For a foot-long and fries,
Soda pop in a paper cup,
Greasy tray hooked to a car full of flies

Mad man howling bout a hound dog
From the dash of a ride, fully souped,
Big bro’s well-oiled tower of hair,
Wheel of that terrifying ‘39 Coupe

CHORUS
I asked for Coca-Cola,
She served me root beer,
I hurled in brother’s hot rod,
Oh, he was pissed,
Back deck in the rear
Root beer, root beer

Sound too much like Happy Days?
Carhop cutey rolls in on skates,
Just another tangle of messy lives
And not always happy fates

I found brother’s tommy gun,
Look, mommy! Little me said,
There! Along with the shotgun and pistol
Beneath his basement bed

CHORUS

He got a choice, jail or Navy,
From a hardass country judge,
I got packed off to Catholic school,
He cleaned up, I didn’t budge

Sent pictures of picking up the astro
To me, drinking real beer, age 11,
Then they taught him to fly Navy jets
And big brother took off for heaven

Ah, root beer... root beer...

CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE SUITE:

TABLE TEN

Off to one side
Of the Milky Way,
26,000 light years,  
Give or take,

On a blue ball of salty water,
In a valley of reddish wood,
Pitted streets trace a drunken dance,
Teetering homes built by shaky hands,

Canvas-roof filling station
From the way, way past,
Turned Italian cafe
Where the wine and red sauce flows six days

From a banquette in the back,
Saying all with silent eyes,
Fiery old priest
From a fire-bombed old village,

North of the thirty-eighth,
East of not-soon-forgot,
Shoulder-to-shoulder with a young big mouth,
Big-mouth from Sheboygan

Neither one seeing
That this willy-nilly cul-de-sac, 
Refuge of the ragtag,
Where a housefly lands 
On a wheel of parmagiano,
In the center,
Is the center,
Center of the universe…

Table 10,
Where worlds 
Collect and collide,

Two sisters,
Half-Korean, half-Brazilian,
Over Napoli fare they preside,

Into the booth you slide,
To take the ride,
You won’t be denied,
Grilled, baked or totally fried,
Kimchi on the side,

And over she does glide,
High priestess and spirit guide,
Prepare to kiss the mystic bride...

BACKGROUND CHANT
Namu myōhō renge kyō

GETAWAY

White boy taught her how to drive,
He knew this day would come,
She was 14 when they pulled her over,
He turned 17 on the run

She called her Daddy from county jail,
Preacher knew this day would come,
He’d warned about those white boys
And how she was way too young

CHORUS 1
Oooh, she drove the getaway,
Oooh, she drove the getaway car,
Oooh, she drove the getaway,
(Pop, look at me! Land of the free!)

His youngest liked the wild ones,
Daddy said enough’s enough
Judge said 90 days in juvie,
Preacher cut his baby off

CHORUS 2
Oooh, she drove the getaway,
Oooh, she drove the getaway car,
Oooh, she drove the getaway,
(No one left to save, Pop! In the home of the brave!)

BRIDGE 1
Ten years of tips they’d saved
Imagine their frustration
When the lease came up
On that Valley filling station
She and her big sister, short fifty grand,
Turned to friends and relations...

BRIDGE 2
Next day, preacher went downtown,
To his sacred safe deposit box,
Slipped out a bulging envelope,
And a poor man of God... gave his girls... 
Fifty thousand bucks

CHORUS 3
Oooh, she drove the getaway,
Oooh, she drove the getaway car,
Oooh, she drove the getaway
But Daddy set them free,

Oooh, he drove the getaway car...

HE USED TO SMILE

She’s sorting through his slides, 
Memoir of his roaming, 
Assembling a tribute 
Now that he has... 

Oh, it was a good run —  
Ninety-five! — his friends all say, 
She couldn’t always love him, 
But tears throughout the day 

CHORUS 
She texted me the snapshot 
A fuzzy jpeg file 
And underneath just four short words, 
He used to smile. 

Pictures from around Brazil, 
Missionary, four decades, 
Here’s near Seoul in South Korea, 
Five years in a grim stockade 

Drafted last days of the war, 
Deployed without a gun, 
North Korean village boy, 
His trials had just begun 

CHORUS

No photos of the torment 
Etched his noted frown, 
Almost died a prisoner, 
Sick, scared, lonesome, trampled down

Amid the pictures of the poor, 
And the churches being built, 
And Daddy preaching Christ’s love
(Look, all the pews are filled!) 

There is only one slide, 
Bowl-cut baby on his knee, 
Shows another side, 
Of such wounded humanity.

CHORUS

DEAD QUIET

Always hard to hear Kong,
With his raspy whisper,
In his girls’ loud cafe,
Always called me mister

And I reciprocated earnestly,
Addressing “Mister Kang,”
Pronouncing his last name
Like a rank Ameri-Kang

While the prior conquerors
Of North Goryeo, if you please,
Had changed Kong’s name —
And the country’s — to Japanese

Those invaders, cruel,
Commies worse, said he, 
Confiding the story
Of the dogs... of Yul-li…

 When Reds took charge,
They demanded, full time,
That citizens of Yul-li
Stick to strict party line

Everyone an informer,
Ears to windows and doors,
Only way to get ahead,
Save your ass and so much more

But inside each hanok,
Family dog would bark or growl,
Made it hard to eavesdrop,
For snitches on the prowl

One day with all the people
Working their collective fields,
Party men slit all the throats…
Of all the dogs, of Yul-li town...

Life went dark, said Kong, at Yul-li,
No barking dog, no family chat, 
Just dread, hopelessness and Jesus,
Dead quiet after that

Dead quiet after that.

POCKET TRUMPET BLUES

He was born in Iowa or Idaho
One of those kinds of places,
After a hitch in the Army, lit out
For the city of faces

Scuffed around LA till that gig 
In a Central Ave bar
Blowin’ in a bop combo
That never did go very far

Met a dolly called Dory,
The next Sarah Vaughan,
Pretty soon they moved in,
At first, they got along

CHORUS
But you know how these things go,
Pocket trumpet’s gone

Couple years in the shadow
Of Chet, Diz and Miles,
Followed Dory up to Frisco,
Maybe that’s more my style

Opened for Don Cherry, North Beach,
High point, Dave’s resume,
Pretty young thing named Joan
Fell on his shoulder in a swoon

(And it’s so long, Dory) 

CHORUS

Joan’s aunt owned a little shack 
In a town of little shacks,
23 miles north of North Beach,
Boho nook called Fairfax
(Sweet home Fairfax)

Fast forward half a century,
Dave in a quartet in the back,
Of an Italian restaurant,
Block from Joan’s aunt’s shack

Dave may have lost his lip,
But his inner light still shone,
I dragged friends, neighbors, out-of-towners,
To see brass squawk and moan

CHORUS

Our friend Sam gone before his time,
Heavy metal dude loved him some Dave,
We hired the Italian restaurant combo
To serenade his wake

Next day, Dave phones,
Squealing like a stuck pig,
Where the fuck’s my pocket trumpet?
Jacked, he growls, at the motherfucking gig

CHORUS 

Dave never forgave me
For stealing that alloy half-size,
Which Joan found ‘round the shack weeks later,
After he fell off his Rascal one last time

CHORUS 

Pocket trumpet blues
I got the pocket trumpet blues...

STATUARY

There’s a limit, Leonardo
And I’ve had my fill
There’s a limit
Bastardo! I’m leaving,
This is not a drill!

You gave the girls your scarol,
And your bestselling recipes,
Now three masterworks, Cararra stone,
Our precious statuary

CHORUS 1
(Statuary)
That’s not the head of Caesar,
It’s David in the back,
(Statuary)
Naked Aphrodite’s by the door, 
By the fire is the legendary Venus...
(Statuary)
...of Arles
I watched the old man carve

You and the pretty girls,
Leonardo... tut-tut,
Your waitresses not paisans,
Meticce, Chinese, I think, and Moolinyan,
There’s a limit, Leonardo,
And I want those statues back

CHORUS 2
(Statuary)
Oh, you’ll be hearing from my avvocato,
(Statuary)
What’s mine is not anyone’s...
(Statuary)
But mine -- a judge will explicatto...
(Statuary)
...in due time

There’s a line, Leonardo,
And you’ve crossed it,
Do you recall Toscana? 
Our yearly vacay to the quarries,
To pick those exquisite stones,
Seeking out old-world maestros —
Forty years at our North Beach tourist trap we slaved!
You and me, Leo, spending all that we ever saved

CHORUS 3
(Statuary)
I want those gorgeous replicas,
(Statuary)
Want those sweet fugazis back,
(Statuary)
And our life, Leo, side by side...
(Statuary)
Just carving away,..
Two of us, together, carving away…

CODA
Every one loves the girls...

SPOKEN
Sure, yeah, everyone loves the girls,
The cute little, sweet little girls. The girls!
I hope their restaurant fails...

(Statuary)
Every one loves the girls
(Sanctuary)
Every one loves the girls
(Monetary)
Every one loves the girls
(Imaginary)
Every one loves the girls
(Topiary)
Every one loves the girls
(Coronary)
Every one loves the girls
(Mortuary)
Every one loves the girls
(Dictionary)
Every one loves the girls

PILGRIMS’ PROGRESS FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME

CHORUS 1

Oh, the distance we traveled
To hold each other’s hands,
He came to Cali from northern Korea
Me from Lake Michigan

He was marched to the front in Pyongyang
I was flown to Chicago’s Gold Coast 
He did five years in prisoner of war camp
I did four summers, Camp Great Oaks

The Armistice got him a slow boat,
From Seoul to Delhi to Rio,
I left a Berkshires prep school,
In the back of a black limo

CHORUS 1

He met an angel at a Rio church dance,
Later, they’d formally merge,
I boffed a painter in painted-on red jeans,
In a bar at a desanctified church 

He won a full ride to seminary, 
PhD at SF, his dream,
I got a gig in the Motor City,
At a rock ‘n’ roll rag called Creem
(America’s Only!)

CHORUS 1

Finally crashed on the fringes of Frisco,
Towing painter and two scruffy kids,
Round the corner an oddly-shaped cafe,
I couldn’t know what that octagon hid

And I didn’t meet Mommy and Daddy
Till their daughter said, Hey, sit with them!
Prefaced by kisses to everyone’s cheek,
Big sister steered us to table ten

I helped Daddy write his memoir,
Pilgrimage, the volume is called,
‘Bout death-defying distances crossed,
Bridges, tunnels and walls 

CHORUS 2
Oh, the distance we traveled
To hold each other’s hands,
He came to CA from the DPRK,
I came from... Sheboygan... Wisconsin

Now in his overhot tiny house, 
On his wild daughter’s peaceable land,
I’m reading aloud from Pop’s favorite bible,
Gripping his fading hand

Can’t help but recall old McCartney’s tale,
Grasping dying George from his band,
Paul who once sang, Love you take’s love you make,
And I wanna hold your hand,
Yeah... yeah... yeah...

ONE LAST

Johnny Fucking Dark was dealing lots of blow,
Newburgh, New York, where the Hudson River flows,
One day he got tired of the frozen rain and snow,
And dirty cops looking out for a double-black GTO

Johnny aimed his muscle car at the western coast,
Knew a guy way out the end, interstate eight-oh,
Old hippie town, 20 miles from San Francisco
But first, one last, off the dash, double-black GTO

CHORUS 1
One last line
One last...

Bella the five-string bassist was beginning to fret,
With a kid in the oven, smoked her last cigarette,
Smoked a few more at Nave’s, filled with regret,
Lost count playing Peri’s after three belts Fernet

CHORUS 2
One last smoke
One last...

BRIDGE
I’m just thinkin’ ‘bout the future
Never bothered in the past
One last line
One last shot
One last smoke
One last drop
One last score
One last fight
One last flight
One last endless night 
One more greasy burger 
One last French fry…

Wanna sing one last verse
‘Bout a Merchant Marine (Ahoy!)
Two-Dollar Bill
And his three-foot ponytail

Oh one last about a sweetie
Who bows a cello, mean,
Or Trumpet Dave from Iowa, 
Or Idaho, Coeur d’Alene?

Or the transcendental waitress,
Sent to North Beach from above,
Shined her light on Johnny’s dark
Found their neverending love
(And Johnny D said...)

CHORUS 3
One last girl
One last…

AFTERPARTY

(Instrumental — sorry, no words.)

SONNY AND FLO

FEMALE SPEAKING
So we get in the elevator. We get to the ground. The door opens. Two tall men, waiting to get in the elevator. I didn’t even look at them like that—you know, looking at them. And I said, “Oh, my God! Gloria!”—her name was Gloria—“Glo, that’s William Holden.” And he was smiling...

This is not
A riproaring story,
No one gets shot,
No one robs a bank

There will not be
Drugs in this story,
No sex, good lord,
You hear, no rock ‘n’ roll

FEMALE SPEAKING
I’m going back into the elevator. As I’d got near the door, the girl had closed the door. And she saw me. So she opened the door and said “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” And I looked, “That’s… Oh, my God... William Holden...”

Sonny came west
To Cali from Sheboygan,
Flo came East
From old Shanghai

They first crossed paths, 
Back room,
Italian restaurant,
Listening to bass and piano play jazz 

FEMALE SPEAKING
Now he’s even grinning, and he’s looking at me, and I said, “Mr. Holden?” And he says, “Yessss.” “May I have your autograph?”

Sonny told funny stories 
Loud at the restaurant,
Across the room, this night, 
Came a loud laugh

FEMALE SPEAKING
Nothing in my purse for an autograph. No autograph books. I’m digging. And I could just see him looking at me, and this gorgeous thing, smiling at me. We had to have our log sheets. So I pulled out the log sheet. I said, “Mr. Holden, would you sign this?” 

Celebrating his five-nine, 
Sonny called out, “Hey, lady”, 
Join us for a glass of Sicilian,
Meet my bride

FEMALE SPEAKING
So he looked at it, made sure it was a blank sheet. He signed it. The Japanese girl is silent. In the meantime, she’s asked us, “Where was I going?” I said, “Follow him!” So you can imagine this guy’s hysterical... So we get down to the lower basement of the garage. So as the door opens, he invites me out: “Are you coming out with us?” I said, “Oh... Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no!” So then when the door closed, she said, “Oh, he was smiling at you, Flo!” 

Flo was pushing eighty,
Gripping cane telescopic,
But when it comes to stories
No one’s quicker to the ball

FEMALE SPEAKING
Next day, we’re on our flight. Now we’re in uniform. We get dropped off at the airport. All the Northwest crew—“hey, hey, hey, hey!”—calling us. “You know who’s your passenger? William Holden.” So here’s the counter. Standing by the door, to exit on the runway—who do you think? And he’s smiling at me... 

Back in the day,
She was a stewardess,
Adored William Holden,
Who was once on her plane

FEMALE SPEAKING
And so we had to go past him to get on the plane to get it ready. As I walk by he says, “Somebody’s gonna get her nose jammed in the elevator door one day.” He recognized me in uniform!

Shanghai Flo 
Could tell a good story
Bring it to life with
Fake frowns and double-takes

FEMALE SPEAKING
So now we’re on the plane. Two stewardesses and two pursers. So we’re telling them about the two guys we—da-da-da-da-da—the day before. And she says, “He recognized her.” She drops to her knee. She goes, “Flo, I beg of you. Please let me serve them.” And stupid me says, “OK.” I should go down, he knows me! I never went. I never even said goodbye to him...

I warned up front,
It’s not that kind of story,
Just a regular old story
About two old regulars

CHORUS 2
Oh, Sonny and Flo
Oooh, whee, Flo and Sonny 
(William Holden)
(Smiling at me...)

Every Saturday night,
They live happily ever after,
Sonny and Flo,
At the Italian restaurant.

MALE SPEAKING ON PHONE
Good looking in person?

FEMALE SPEAKING
Oh, much better looking! The voice... And smiling at me, Robert...

Credits:
All songs written by Robert Duncan (© 2025 Duncan), except “Nellcôte” & “Based on a Girl,” co-written by Robert Duncan & Jeremy Koch (© 2025 Duncan & Koch).

Vocals, guitars, bass, keyboards, harmonica, percussion: Robert Duncan
Lead keyboards: John Varn
Drums: John Perrin
Slide on “Nellcôte” & “Palomar,” lead on “Sad Guitars”: Kevin Doyle
Fingerpicking & backing vocal on “Nellcôte”: Jeremy Koch
Spoken parts on “Sonny and Flo”: the incomparable Flo Oliveira

Sage counsel: Ben (of course), Varn, Jeremy, Hardie, Josey & (always) Roni Hoffman

Screaming man on shoes created by the infinite Amy Petrolati

Mixed and mastered by Benjamin Emmerich

Arranged and produced by Robert Duncan