Delicate Parts

by David Safran



released May 22, 2012

Produced by Tim Sandusky with David Safran

Safran: Guitar, piano, percussion, and vocals
Genevieve Schatz: Vocals
Susan Voelz: Violin
Ren Mathew: Trumpet
Andreas Kapsalis: Guitar
Angelina Lucero: Vocals
Jamie Gallagher: Drums & percussion
David Gallagher: Guitar
Aaron Allietta: Piano & air organ
Dan Ingenthron: Bass & Nord Electro
Lynn Suh: Violin
Jackie Matejko: Vocals
Bob Salihar: Bass
Emily Jane Powers: Violin
Sarah Holtschlag: Vocals
Tom Schraeder: Guitar
Tim Sandusky: Vocals, bass, baritone guitar, guitar, cello, harpsichord, Hammond organ, Rhodes piano, synthesizers, saxophone, clarinet, xylophone, marimba, vibraphone, glockenspiel, and flute

All songs by David Safran except: “Hysterical Man” – words by D. Safran, music by Tim Sandusky

Recorded at Studio Ballistico. Chicago, IL.



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Track Name: Strange Acts
I make a mess of time now.
I only talk of boundaries.
Still, I take pleasure from life now –
The lives of those around me.

You’re still not sure about this:
The unknown voice I’m bringing.
There’s a sound where my mouth is,
But it hardly counts as singing.

I have a total lack of empathy & remorse.
That’s a come-on, of course.

I can’t hide the fact:
Strange man, stranger acts.
I give nothing back:
Strange man, stranger acts.
Track Name: Woman Astride, Facing Away
And once again you’re let in:
To please me, and feed me, and then give.
Oh, baby, I’m not selfish –
I’m inwardly attentive.

I must accept that love is all her play
Woman astride, facing away.

I want a man to love it,
Not wander among the trees;
A man who is half-triumphant,
A man who is half-guilty.

And, yes, “You’re quite boring,” she might say
Woman astride, facing away.

You can feel so drunk and grateful.
You can press your lips to her thighs.
You can think that she will save you,
But you don’t view her from all sides.

Oh, I’d marry her but she intends to stay
A woman astride, facing away.
Track Name: The Ugliness of Others
With an old friend at Danny’s Tavern.
I’m in my best unstable.
She says, “You look the same, man –
Though shorter and less faithful.”

And wine and trust and laughter:
At my age, a bother.
What I’m really after
Is the ugliness of others.

Oh my perfect lover
I’m happy that you’re home
In the ugliness of others
And not my own.

I’m by myself all day long;
I’ve become more settled.
Don’t need to climb out of the swamp,
Just bring it up a level.

I make love for tradition,
I don’t believe or wonder
For I see in all positions
The ugliness of others.

Oh my perfect lover
I’m happy that you’re home
In the ugliness of others
And not my own.

Life went by while I learned to
Turn out my share of shit.
Have I strayed from the Path of Virtue?
Or have I walked right into it?

So, this wild, panicked drunk
In fact just longs for daycare.
I worked hard to get off Planet Clunk.
I work harder now to stay there.

Oh my perfect lover
I’m happy that you’re home
In the ugliness of others
And not my own.
Track Name: Adult Things
And so the days go fleeting,
Can’t trust those candle spells –
It hurts my friends are breaking,
The worst is, they all do it well.
There is no golden thigh to view,
No Paris in the spring.
Yet I still feel a tingle or two
Waiting for adult things.

We slip away in the confusion,
We embrace and flee.
Nothing like sex to ruin
A sense of intimacy.
I know, I know, it’s tiring, dear:
Light people, lighter flings.
Yet some of us are smiling here
Waiting for adult things.

And they say desire is passing,
But I’ve wanted you from the start.
The prayers don’t change
With time or age –
Just spread to different parts.

Now I stand within the garden
At Holy Comforter.
There’s snow upon the marble
And a work that won’t endure.
I’m aging very fast these days.
I look for lines to sing.
And sometimes I go past play
Waiting for adult things.
Track Name: Nothing Beyond the Kisses
Months with a lonely woman,
And now she sees the marks.
In all, I am too human
But loveable in parts.

There’s nothing beyond the kisses,
Nothing beyond the kisses

I’ve toured the Hall of Pleasure
Slowly over the years:
It offers lips and fingers,
I ask for eyes and ears.

There’s nothing beyond the kisses,
Nothing beyond the kisses

Each night when you imagine
She’s right there down the hall
You approach the height of passion
Without any touch at all.
Track Name: The Life of an Amorous Man
I'm all alone, the mood is right
My head is clear, my hairshirt's tight
For love, I have to strut and grovel.
I'm locked within the heartland here
My parts that grew now disappear
A prince like me can't deal with struggle.

O were I on Parnassus Hill
I'd be just as miserable still.

I'm singing "Lady Mary Ann"
A comb and a glass in my hand:
The life of an amorous man.

Our little romance, all in all,
Was worth a circle in a stall
Some women don't care to know me.
When it comes to love, they learn the plan:
They close the door, they kiss the hand --
The hand they'd like to cut off slowly.

There's room in my Halls of Pleasure for you.
There's room for half the Inquisition, too.

I'm singing "Lady Mary Ann"
A comb and a glass in my hand:
The life of an amorous man.

You can choose a husband by the hair
Better do it fast while something's there
The style has changed: men are now made softer.
And I watch the sunlight on the wall
I'm responding to the call
But I'm holding out for a better offer.

Oh a life in love and song is right
But crank for half an hour, you'll get a minute of light.

I think of women now on land,
A comb and a glass in my hand:
The life of an amorous man.
Track Name: Heretics, Witches, and Jews
When I was young, my mother went famous,
And Steinem, Thomas, and Pogrebin were near.
I still recall the waists of Second-Wavers;
I’ve been waiting 20 years to get back there –

To all those heretics, witches, and Jews.

I am a neutral being between the sexes.
My job is not to judge or exploit.
What excites me is human connection –
To mostly miss the point.

But heretics, witches, and Jews
I just can’t refuse.

Oh I’m afraid I don’t get played,
I cling now to the table.
The Muse would share her divine air:
It wasn’t worth a Kegel.

The difference isn’t great
Between men and women –
The only difference in fact:
What a man calls “eight”
A woman calls “seven”
But it’s really just six-and-a-half.
We’re the same sweet psychopath.
Track Name: To the Lion
Though dying for love and distance
And something to bury or shatter,
A man often at war with women
Is mostly just groping for answers.

Sometimes with pleasure the weak now,
We do a desperate kind of dancing;
It isn’t hard to connect with people,
It’s the definition that’s lacking.

I’m still quite pleased, still quite proud of
The things we’re expected to grow out of.

And in my quest for connection
It helps that I can’t see this:
A view of the world’s perfection,
A glimpse of the world as it is.

I covered all the mirrors, and anything exciting.
They are casting you to the lion.
Track Name: Hysterical Man
The nights were fine & fair to me,
The days were shared and blessed.
And yet each moment of clarity
Now seems like carelessness.

I lost my sight, my humble voice –
Now there’s nothing I can touch.
Never trust a man who enjoys
His hopelessness too much.

I try to solve love’s mysteries,
Overplay my delight yet again.
I never enjoy my victories,
I only want to edit them.

And I’m with my little family
And I think about in secret:
They are in the Hall of Longevity,
Or somewhere underneath it.

And in their fine and quiet way
They all withdraw again.
I look on with pride and dismay
At this hysterical man
Track Name: Starving Time
The winter wore on; your lovers were gone;
The poor gathered round St. Vincent Parish.
Beneath the scarlet and blue I’d long for you
And your body all dark and restless.

I thought you were mine in that old starving time.
Oh, but now I understand:
Though it was please you or please me, I finally see
It’s more important where I don’t put my hand.

Well, I took half the year to discover “sincere”:
I watched my friends sing all clever and wounded.
They used their tune to silence the room
While I lifted their lines and their music.

I said they were mine in that old starving time.
Now I am stuck in this Country & Western/
I got it all wrong confusing my song
For some little tired confession.

The winter, it is past. Your lovers are back.
I wait for the Union Pacific.

I wish you were mine in this old starving time.
But it’s comfort we both seem to need.
So blessed and grand are the women and man
Who have grown beyond their greed.