Tin Can Coffee Cup....
Posted: Thu Jan 13, 2005 8:32 pm
Tin Can Coffee Cup
Written by Nathan Moore
Transcribed from:
03/03/2004: Tin Angel: Philadelphia, PA
performed by The Slip and Nathan Moore
11/19/2004: The Poor House: Raleigh, NC
performed by The Slip
Tin can coffee cup
Beneath the weeping willow
I’m a blue sky’n
Which way should I go
Strumm’n my guitar
To my right is a cross road
To my left is a train
Passing slow
I wish I wouldn’t starve
If I just sat and sang
And (or: All) my friends would drive by
I’d feel no pain
I wish I wouldn’t freeze
Or get wet in the rain
I wish I wouldn’t die
If I just sat and sang
Why would I wonder, well
Where would I stay (or: Oh where would I go)
There’s only one place
Where a man can just play (or: A man can find his soul)
He flies down each road (or: Flies down every highway)
Rides on every train
Sits beneath the willows
Can never remain
Soon I’ll be in a small room
In some city or some small town
I don’t know how I’ll get there
They always come around
Ends meeting on blind dates
And awkwardly parting ways
I’m off to the next setup
Little-ole me given chase
I suppose the golden laughter
Is its own reward
Try explaining that one
To the landlord
Written by Nathan Moore
Transcribed from:
03/03/2004: Tin Angel: Philadelphia, PA
performed by The Slip and Nathan Moore
11/19/2004: The Poor House: Raleigh, NC
performed by The Slip
Tin can coffee cup
Beneath the weeping willow
I’m a blue sky’n
Which way should I go
Strumm’n my guitar
To my right is a cross road
To my left is a train
Passing slow
I wish I wouldn’t starve
If I just sat and sang
And (or: All) my friends would drive by
I’d feel no pain
I wish I wouldn’t freeze
Or get wet in the rain
I wish I wouldn’t die
If I just sat and sang
Why would I wonder, well
Where would I stay (or: Oh where would I go)
There’s only one place
Where a man can just play (or: A man can find his soul)
He flies down each road (or: Flies down every highway)
Rides on every train
Sits beneath the willows
Can never remain
Soon I’ll be in a small room
In some city or some small town
I don’t know how I’ll get there
They always come around
Ends meeting on blind dates
And awkwardly parting ways
I’m off to the next setup
Little-ole me given chase
I suppose the golden laughter
Is its own reward
Try explaining that one
To the landlord