Tell it to the judge, man.

Tell it to your motherless reflection.

In a sock and one shoe

after the great defection

he said, "tell a lie sometimes, tell the truth

when it suits you, and when you've lost your way

tell a story."



Tell your story, tell it, tell it.

Tell your story to anyone who'll listen.

Tell your story, don't stop talking

just tell your story walking.



Listing through Carol Gardens

on the way to Cobble Hill

I stopped by a psychic's dusty, wilted windowsill.

Forgot what she told me, mostly

but I remember one thing she said

"You may slip and call some lousy fuck your friend

but in the end you'll come out even

then, tell your story."



And it's a sorry, frightful thing

when you want to cry, but you can't keep from laughing.

Outside the church that's so quiet it dares you to

shout

you put a hand to your mouth to stop the rain.

You do a St. Vitus dance, to the sky you raise your

voice.

This is your chance, you have no choice

you tell your story.