It falls once again. Is the winter never-ending? Soaked to the gills, Which we really ought to grow... TRAFFIC AND WEATHER Creeks overfill; Music, Shelly Berg/Lyrics, Lorraine Feather There's a heady scent of mildew In the canyons of San Mateo. So, there's a bit of a situation On the Golden Gate. We got traffic and weather, Steer clear of the number 2 lane Traffic and weather. If it's not too late. Like Rand and McNally, Got carpet unspoolin’ They're always together. For a mile, no foolin’. There'll be some tricky vehiculation out on Now, if you're traveling from Sonoma, Highway One. That's a nasty route. Watch out for Cal Trans You're seething with irritation On Devil's Slide, Devil's Slide. From the harsh commute. It's fragile and slippery and not very wide. That's our copter above you—hi! God, there's so many of you. Three little words, If you're traveling north on I-5 Your life's in your paws I can only say three little words: As you creep along the causeway, "Stalled big rig." If your attention Meanders out to sea. Move it! Try not to gawk At the tussle on the walkway! We've got reports of a little twister Mind how you swerve Over Watsonville. While avoiding the debris! There's hail the size of ponies Out in Pleasant Hill, We got traffic and weather, Hail, hail, hail, hail hail,hail.... Traffic and weather. Like Barnum and Bailey, We got traffic and weather, They're always together. Traffic and weather. Like "cease" and "desist," I see some heavy precipitation You know they were made for each other. In the northern bay. Might not want a plan a picnic— Traffic and weather, It'll be headed your way. Traffic and weather. Brackish clouds moving inland... Like movies and popcorn, Soon you'll think you're in Finland. Like flotsam and jetsam, Like models and make-up, Still recovering from the outages Like Itchy and Scratchy, In Walnut Creek; Like breaking and ent'ring, We might have told you diff'rent, Like protons and neutrons, But it'll rain all week, Like drummers and singers, Rain, rain, rain, rain... They're always together.

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Boop boop boop, de doop de de (etc.)... He said: “Thanks for listening. Are you ready to hear the news? Guess we both agree that it's Never easy. WE APPRECIATE YOUR PATIENCE Deciding how to tell you, Music, Shelly Berg/Lyrics, Lorraine Feather I felt a bit queasy.

She said, “Please forgive me. “Thanks for calling! Say I didn't emotionally This is a recording, but Maul or main you. Don't be nervous. You've grown so much Our goal is to you provide you with You almost are not the same you. Excellent service. “And I appreciate your patience, “Please forgive us. 'Cause I'm not another No one would intentionally Coldly uncaring Lothario Overstrain you Like the rest of your boyfriends. Soon, music from the '80s will I appreciate your patience! Entertain you. “How poignant it seems, “We appreciate your patience, When I know what you know. And we promise you You'll live in my dreams A customer care representative When I go, I go.” Will be with you shortly. We appreciate your patience. VERY UNBECOMING Music, Tony Morales/Eddie Arkin “We now have a functioning website. Lyrics, Lorraine Feather Maybe you're still not aware? Most customers choose I was stuck in a rut, To do absolutely everything there. And I was explaining to you How I had this fear “I suppose I'm implying That in 30 years That this phone call, in fact, I'd be frail, destitute and alone, Is what we now consider Nothing to show for my life, nothing, To be an outmoded method of contact. Living in a house of cats, Afraid to go to the store, “But we appreciate your patience— Not so attractive anymore. No, I'm serious. I was going on about it at great length; Soon a cheerful and calm individual All of a sudden Will be here to assist you. I stopped and sighed, We appreciate your patience. And you replied:

“How poignant it seems, I can hear every word you say, When you know what you know. But it's very unbecoming. You'll live in our dreams Once in a while you may feel that way, When you go, But it's very unbecoming. When you go.”

2 There's so much to worry about. But it's very unbecoming. It can take up absolutely all your time! Now and again you may feel that way, The cruel tricks of fate, the ravages of age, But it's very unbecoming. The decline of music, the way the world is run... It's enough to make you sabotage your fun, I LOVE NEW YORK AT CHRISTMAS Just waiting for the axe to fall. Music, Shelly Berg/Lyrics, Lorraine Feather You watch the news so often, you're in thrall. 'Fraid you'll take off through the roof, When the sun rose The way your nerves are humming, Christmas morning, Central Park was dressed in white, And it's very unbecoming. Soft and peaceful, Now and again you may feel that way, Hushed and gleaming. But it's very unbecoming. There is no more lovely sight.

I used to be terrified of being betrayed, right? Walking past the frozen lake, And I'd made this guy Down the path we used to take, The center of my life. 'Fraid my heart might break in two. He'd stay out late at night. I need you now, I'd lie there and count the passing cars, 'Cause you know how Fifty-one, fifty-two. I love New York at Christmas. At the time, there seemed like Nothing I could do. Easy laughter, He'd never come over, never call; Joyous carols, Invariably, I'd wake up fuming about it all, At the Tavern on the Green— Have screaming arguments with him Trees were sparkling; In my head. You were smiling Then one morning I looked in the mirror With a warmth I'd never seen. And I said: I was sure you'd draw me near, I can see how upset you are, Say the words I had to hear. But it's very unbecoming. As the snow began to fall, You've taken this quite a bit too far, You sighed instead, And it's very unbecoming. And only said Oh, I can hear every word you say, "I love New York at Christmas." But it's very unbecoming Now and again you might feel this way, Saw the windows But it's very unbecoming. Down at Macy's— Sidewalk Santas, cheeks aglow. You can fear that if you find success, Now's the time for You'll be torn to pieces by a nasty throng, New beginnings; Because they're all convinced How I'll find one, I don't know. Your point of view is wrong. You could lose your marbles, All Manhattan seems to be Or even break your heart. Celebrating merrily. You can fear the psycho lurking in the minimart, In my soul I'm glad I'm here. Or fear the splitting of the earth, I love New York at Christmas, Or fear you overestimate your worth. Though in a way You can be afraid of everything, It's hard to say

3 I love New York at Christmas Though I like playin' tag with the bad guys, This year. Haulin' tail down the California coast, In a world full of grifters and gadflies, HOME ALONE I discovered what beguiles me the most. (for Kinsey Millhone) I don't know and baby, I don't even try to know Music, Russell Ferrante/ Why I never wind up waiting by the phone, Lyrics, Lorraine Feather But I'm happy in my own private Idaho. What I love is bein' home alone I stare at the skylight, The onrushing twilight, With my old oak floors, Small, angry clouds in my view. And my dark red doors... Darkness encroaches, Mornings when a whisper seems to wake me, The old thrill approaches; It's just the distant bark of sea lions out at sea. Raindrops begin their tattoo. "I love being single. It's almost like being rich." No one to hold me, -Kinsey Millhone Scope me or scold me. (from Sue Grafton's book "D" is for Deadbeat) Makes me quite giddy somehow. Adrift and ungrounded, HIT THE GROUND RUNNIN' Illusions unbounded, Music, Russell Ferrante/ Feels good as the law should allow. Lyrics, Lorraine Feather

Though I like playin' tag with the bad guys, It's almost unbelievable Haulin' tail down the California coast, But the New Year's here again. In a world full of grifters and gadflies, Time to pump our mood, I discovered what beguiles me the most. Get unglued from ESPN, I don't know and baby, I don't even try to know Our goals are still achievable, Why I never wind up waiting by the phone, But we gotta get back in the game. But I'm happy in my own private Idaho. Play ball! What I love is bein' home alone. Let's make it to the Hall of Fame!

I buy food and flowers. We're in a must-win situation, Work till all hours, Back from the brink of elimination. The silence not always profound, You and me, baby, Clean up for a while, Gonna hit the ground runnin' Then run for a mile. The best part is turning around. Lookin' at the numbers, we've been slippin' Smartin' from a nasty woodshed whippin'. I succumb to romance on occasion. Still got a good shot I submit that I'm human after all, If we hit the ground runnin'. Though a master of wily evasion, When I feel any danger I could fall. We're gonna get our fastball workin'; I can visit someone else's little hideaway. We're gonna throw some serious heat. There are memories that Won't see the opposition smirkin' Make me want to moan, When we knock 'em outa the driver's seat. But as surely as the moon pulls the tide away, I'll be contented going home alone. Even though we took a true shellackin', This'll be the year we come out whackin!'

4 Oo wee, honey, This year Gonna hit the ground runnin'. They're gonna be screaming in the stands, If we can It was a shock Hit the ground runnin', When life started cleaning our clock. Hit the ground runnin'! We've struggled offensively, Flying blind, "You know, Bob, I'm just happy I was able to And our defense make a contribution." Was also maligned... Out-muscled, out-hustled, WHERE ARE MY KEYS? We've been saddled with injuries. Music, Tony Morales and Terry Sampson/ Lyrics, Lorraine Feather Gotta tighten up the line of scrimmage, Give a hundred and ten percent, They're not up on the dresser; Brighten up our image I've looked and they're not underneath After the regrettable away-game incident, The bed or in the laundry. Pardon me while I go outa my head. But-headin' to the end zone, that'll be you! They're not in any pocket; Proud to be the one I pass it to! Thank God I didn't lock 'em in the car, Oh my, big guy, But I'm so late now, Gonna hit the ground runnin'. And I'd appreciate your help If you might have any clue We're in a must-win situation; To where they are. Need to stop the dribble penetration. You and me, baby, Where are my keys? Gonna hit the ground runnin'. Where are my keys? I'd give anything if I could find my... Red-hot, givin' it all we got, We live 'n' die by the outside shot. They're not out in the garden, We're so up-tempo Or hidden in a pile of magazines, When we hit the ground runnin'. Or in the dish rack. Must be something else they'd be in between, We're gonna dominate the floorboards, Be in between. Though we've been quiet so far, They're not up on the key hook, Light up a million scoreboards. Where you have told me time and time again Together we're a shooting star! I ought to put them When I walk in the door. Get ready for a Oh just get off it! Nail-biter, barn burner, I suppose you never lose anything yourself. Game of inches, a real head-turner. Eyes on the prize, nose for the ball, Where are my keys? This time we're gonna take it all; Where are my keys? We're gonna stay focused on the dream, I'd give anything if I could find my... Remember that there's no "I" in "TEAM." Let's get out there and just have fun! Listen, would you tell her I won't be there right on time? I've got the heart of a champion. Sorry, I'm afraid that You've got a great pair of hands. I won't be there right on time.

5 Listen, could we possibly And feel you are there, Make it another day? A brave little smile on your face. Sorry, would you tell her Your words and your music I'm usually not this way? Inhabit the air; I sigh at their elegant grace. Wait — wait a minute — okay, I thought I had them in my Not everyone knew Coat last night, or were you driving? You were funny and wise. That's right, you were. You often had nothing to say, Gotta figure out what I did, But the lost and the crazy Get a picture in my head Could look in your eyes, Of how I flung them away. And know you would not turn away. Boy, this has screwed up my day. I know: I'll use the extra set I made! The mockingbird Or did I? Or did I? Or did I? You sometimes heard Where are my stupid keys? Beyond your windowpane, I'll go through the house just one more time..... Told you all your sleepless nights Were not in vain. They're not up on the dresser; I've looked and they're not underneath Your music and words The bed or in the laundry. Fairly dance in the air— Pardon me while I go out of my head, Bring voice to the longing of spring. While I go out of my head. A spirit in flower, They're not in any pocket; Exquisite and rare, Thank God I didn't lock 'em in the car, Is truly a glorious thing. But I'm so late now, And I'd appreciate your help The golden broom If you might have any clue That glowed in bloom To where they are. Beside your kitchen door, Brought you so much joy Where are my keys? Your heart could hold no more, Come on, come on, come on, No more. Where are my keys? I'd give anything if I could find my keys. I gaze at the stars I'm asking anyone to help me please And imagine you there, To fi-yi-yi-yind my keys. More patient, more gracious than I, A spirit in flower, They're not up on the key hook, Exquisite and rare, They're not out in the garden, Too beautiful ever to die, They're not up on the dresser. A spirit in flower, Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on Exquisite and rare, (etc.) Who climbed all the way to the sky.

IN FLOWER WAITING TABLES (for Billy Strayhorn) (Based on The Hornheads' Music, Shelly Berg/Lyrics, Lorraine Feather "Can't Quite Put My Finger On It") Music, Michael B. Nelson/ I touch the piano Lyrics, Lorraine Feather

6 The chef's gone AWOL I came here hoping to be a Broadway star— And I got a party of seventeen. Another dimpled and dewy ingénue Who wound up waiting tables. Sir, you should 86 The fat cigar. When all humanity backs up at the bar, Yeah, well, I promise you would be too if you Some nights, there's Were out here waiting tables. Nothing I wouldn't rather do Than be here waiting tables. Hey! Heads up! Comin' through! One Tanqueray and tonic, one B&B! Oo-oo-oo-oo-ooh, comin' through! Guy looks a little hinky at table three. One mango margarita, one rum and coke! By now I figured to be I'm swillin' down the coffee, I'm goin' for broke. A household name, On stage and screen, Friday's crazy! But I'll tell you what, Oh, Bembe, ajuda me I've learned a lot from waiting tables. A limpiar la mesa, por favor? Learned to handle Several things at once, for instance, It's tough but And when a buck's not Nobody's gotten me fired so far. Even ten percent. I'm pretty certain in time I could be Truly good at waiting tables. I came here hoping to be a great big star— Another dimpled and dewy ingénue Hey! Hot plate! Who wound up waiting tables. Watch your back! All the regulars like me, When all humanity backs up at the bar, I'm not without charm, Some nights, there's nothing But I can't carry more than I wouldn't rather do Two trays on my arm. Than be here waiting tables. (That's pretty hard-core) Friday's crazy! Sometimes I stand frozen Oh, Bembe, ajuda me In the middle of the floor, A limpiar la mesa, por favor? Spaced—like there's something I've misplaced. Might be my name, Tanqueray and tonic, one B&B! Which now is apparently "Miss," Guy's little hinky at table three. Or a summoning finger-snap. One mango margarita, one rum and coke! There's a lesson in this, I'm swillin' down the coffee, I need a But I can't quite put my finger on it. Miller in the bottle, one J&B! Definitely trouble, at table three. One Miller in the bottle, one J&B! These maraschino cherries are gettin' gross. Guy's definitely trouble, at table three. I'm pullin' in a hundred, or real close! These maraschino cherries are gettin' gross. I'm pullin' in a hundred, or real close! I moved here to Keep an appointment with destiny, Ordering, ordering! And I'm still waiting. Sad to say

7 A HOUSEHOLD NAME A household name. Music, Bill Elliott/Lyrics, Lorraine Feather Fans dog me at the market; I used to think success would make me happy. They're adoring or they're cruel. I used to feel that fame would make me proud. Reporters climb the hedge I craved the glory and the gold, And sometimes crash into the pool. The influence untold, Today my mother told me The ride upon the shoulders of the crowd. I was acting like a star. The trick is not to be one, Today my price is 20 mil a picture; When of course you are, Now that's about two hundred bucks a frame, You are. And there's a lot I didn't know Till I became Well, none of it has truly made me happy, A household name. Though some of it has really made me proud. And I'd be slightly insincere It's awful nice to do the thing you're good at, To say I didn't love to hear And mostly, the attention is divine. The clapping and the cheering of the crowd, There's nothing like the thrill Oh yeah. Of being the first they bill, And reading just how brilliantly you shine. Some years from now, relaxing in my rocker, I'll be glad I had the guts to play the game- But when you flub a line or fudge an accent, 'Cause they can try to kill your spirit The pundits take their swift and deadly aim. But no one's gonna douse my little flame, It's quite the dirty little rush Even tomorrow, When you can shame When I'm no longer a household name, A household name. Household name.

They gorge upon your beauty MAKING IT UP AS WE GO ALONG And they gobble up your youth. Lyrics, Lorraine Feather/Music, Eddie Arkin They photograph you flawlessly— Your mother knows the truth. A pleasure here, You're splashed across those magazines A heartache there; That mock the privileged few. We’re shooting for the moon, You share the wry amusement If we only dare. Till the joke's on you, We’re just as right On you. As we are wrong— Making it up as we go along. You feel the march of time Across your forehead; We grow confused, You dread the subtle soft'ning of your jaw. Or understand; It seems the public would prefer We wander off alone, You stay the way you were, Or offer a hand; Or else they take it as a personal faux pas. We hide our eyes, We come on strong, I've hardly had a meal since I was twenty, Making it up as we go along. Since fat is incompatible with fame. I learned the rules, I got the breaks, The hustle, the hurry, And I became The too-familiar worry

8 That wakes you up at half-past three; The passion that claims you, The kind remark that shames you, To realize you didn’t see How very fine a soul could be,

The breakups, the laughter, The naked feeling after You know you’ve been a bit too proud; The act of forgiving, The simple joy of living, The arms that find you in a crowd, The wish you bravely make out loud,

It ebbs and flows, It comes and goes, And where it goes from here, Well, who knows who knows? We’re often told It’s always the same old song, But we’re making it up as we go along, Making it up as we go along.

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