Joe Spitzer

Joe Spitzer


I am a lyric writer who likes to mix-up my own unique word styling with traditional writing for words that may adapt to most any type of song genere.


I am just some guy from Central Illinois who is currently working with local musicians to create original works of music. I love words and enjoy writing lyrics in what I hope is a fresh voice.


On Oklahoma Time

Written By: Joe Spitzer

After the family farm dried up
My uncle made his way to Cali-forny
And when Prohibition was repealed
He found some work at a winery
Says that when their business picks up
He will drop a note and send for me
He’s at a wondrous, fertile place
Called ironically, Dry Creek Valley

So for now I’m just stuck here waiting
Tryin hard to hold on to my last dime
And even though I’m Cali-forny dreamin
I’m still livin on Oklahoma time

I’m hanging around this little ol’ town
Looking for work that pays, anywhere
I suppose I could hit the road anytime
Though depression seems to be everywhere
But my uncle writes about that vineyard
Like it’s Big Rock Candy Mountain there
The vines so green and the grapes so plump
It sounds like heaven on earth, I swear

27th Chance

Written By: Joe Spitzer

So you are here now
Mark the spot with a dot
On the map of your life

No need to dwell on how
You made it to this point
In spite of all the strife

So now make a vow
To never look back
Don’t get caught like old Lot’s wife

Its true you’ve had your failures
In finance, work and romance
But you’ve been granted a second
Or third or twenty-seventh chance
Its ok, let your inner music play
Take your future by the waist and dance

Open up your eyes
To all possibilities
Waiting to be revealed

You might find a surprise
Around the next corner
This is no time to yield

Muster the strength to rise
Up and claim your own space
You just may discover, you are healed

It Is 1984 (Once Again)

Written By: Joe Spitzer

It saddens me so
To see your body
Thusly decimated by this disease
But within your eyes
I can see the real you
As you give my hand a trembling squeeze

Your memory’s still good
And somehow you can laugh
As we take turns sharing old stories
Remembering the fun
Once had when so young
Maybe for a while your burden can ease

And there we are in your beat-up car
Doing donuts in a parking lot
Climbing on the roof of our high school
Never really worried that we’ll be caught
Talkin’ ‘bout the girls but not much to them
Just boys struggling to become men
Trying to write songs like a real rock band
It is 1984 once again

I curse the fates that brought
This plague upon you
Makes me question my beliefs to the core
Yet your faith stays strong
So I follow your lead
And the looming black clouds we will ignore

Oh Jilly (I Need To Tell You So)

Written By: Joe Spitzer

It appears to me that Jilly is self-conscious
It may seem silly, if you have seen her
Why would this slightly less than Reubenesque beauty
recoil from a compliment over coffee liqueur?

She looks so dang intelligent in her glasses
Delivers a harangue, worthy of a lawyer
on racism and class issues in America
while reading from her dog-eared copy of Tom Sawyer

Oh Jilly I need to tell you so
How in your eyes I see me glow
Lift your gaze up from below
Forget that hurt from long ago

Tell me all I need to know
To raise you up on a plateau
We can take it fast or slow
Oh Jilly I need to tell you so

Jilly listens to jazz music on her ipod
While cleaning out the stables where she tolls
Ankle deep in it, she’s a contradiction
To own a thoroughbred is one of her goals

A flower in the fertilizer I think
to myself as I watch her dance around
I want to embrace her; wrap my mind around her
I picture her, on my arm, in a wedding gown


Written By: Joe Spitzer

In his white leather jacket, with a racing stripe down one side
And his wrap-around shades, he once saw on Steve McQueen
His young, strong hand, touched the ring through his dungaree pocket
He was going to ask for her hand; they were only nineteen
In his Ford Mustang Mach I, he drove to her parent’s house
He pulled over across the street but he couldn’t get out
Suddenly he felt so smothered, by his small-town fate
Panicked with a burning need; it was 1968

He was a young buck and still so much he wanted to do
He knew with her, would never get much chance to travel
So he roared those horses back to life and dropped it into gear
Rocketed on out of town; slick tires spittin’ out gravel
He did not dare to look back in the ‘Stang’s rearview mirror
For the chance that she had come out and he might see her
Never returning after that day, yet part of him stayed there
The image he remembers most is her long, black, shiny hair

Well he wandered and he squandered
And like the darker days of John R. Cash
With the devil he did barter
Wonders if it would have been better
If he should have asked her to be his wife
She could have been his very own June Carter

Ya know he never could stay put; had run-ins with the law
Bouncing around from job to job and from town to town
Getting by on near minimum wage, never saving a cent
Sweeping floors, a short order cook, even a rodeo clown
Other women they came and went; he tried but could never get close
Made some acquaintances, had some fun, now they seem like ghosts
To grow old, lonely and bitter, never was his plan
He’s that fabled Desperado; the Wichita Lineman


Now a wrinkled hand swings slowly by a worn out pocket
On the backside of a pair of wrinkled coveralls
Inside the pocket is a wrinkled and tattered letter
He had meant to mail, way back when, when he’d got to Sioux Falls
In it he poured out all the feelings he’d had
Saying it was for the best; telling her to not be sad
So he carries that paper wherever he may go
Bout once a day he pulls it out to read and tears they do flow

Well he wandered and he squandered
And like the darker days of John R. Cash
With the devil he did barter
Wonders if it would have been better
If he should have asked her to be his wife
She could have been his very own June Carter

Just maybe if he had been a man
Not just a wild-eyed cowboy
And had tried a little bit harder
Sometimes he dreams that’s what he had done
They were married and raising kids
And she was his very own June Carter

Bisbee, Arizona

Written By: Joe Spitzer

We decided to take a road trip
To get to know each other better
So we loaded up my cargo van
And pointed it due West
We passed o’er the barren highways
And some rural byways too
Drove for hours, only stopping to eat,
Didn’t get much rest

The more we drove, the more we talked
My trusted new friend and I
The rhythm of the tires on the road
Set the pace of our conversation
I stole many a look into her eyes
Then was struck with an inspiration
This is more than infatuation
Think we’re arriving at a destination

She’s just like the One Book Bookstore
In ol’ Bisbee, Arizona
What you see is what you get
Don’t put on no fake persona
Let’s take a ride down the copper mine
The depth of my soul I’ll show ya
We fell in love ‘neath a dome of stars
In ol’ Bisbee, Arizona

We toured the mining museum
She enjoyed the history, just like me
Checked out a little bed and breakfast
Run by a couple of aging hippies
They fed us well and wished us well
We bought some of their handmade jewelry
Then went back to the One Book Bookstore
And purchased a copy of me ‘n Henry

Holiday in Bisbee felt like a dream
But was as real as the sand in our shoes
The time it seemed to speed by so fast
Like those cool, western desert nights
Now we knew we had to get back to our lives
Our jobs and responsibilities
Driving again, had no need to fly
Our love was soaring to its own new heights

Full Circle

Written By: Joe Spitzer

It has been only one year since I first fled home
And yet it seems like a lifetime of days
The heat of this town was burning me up
But now I long to bask in its rays

Friends and relatives tried to follow my path
I was always quick to cover my tracks
Snuck back in under the cover of night
Hoping and praying we can bury the axe

Now I just can’t abandon my family
No I just can’t do that again, you see
I hurt them once with my wanderlust
No I just can’t abandon my family

I have been to the four corners of the Earth
And now I’m back at the Four Corners Mall
When I embarked on my journey it was autumn
Now that I am home again it is the fall

I once longed to be like a golden leaf
That traveled where ere the wind blows it free
But it seems I am more like the conifer cone
That does not fall very far from the tree

I had heard the road calling out my name
Tempting me with sights and sounds unknown
Its fleeting pleasures did not satisfy my soul
I’d come to feel so empty and alone

So I let myself fall back into the folds
Of the arms of those who really care for me
No more hollow promises to contend with
Seeking some simple peace and harmony

bridge or outro
And it’s a queer wheel that doesn’t make a full turn
And it’s a queer wheel that doesn’t make a full turn
And it’s a queer wheel that doesn’t make a full turn
Somehow it all comes back to the beginning in the end

I Forgot Today

Written By: Joe Spitzer

I rode in on my high horse
Not feeling any remorse
Because I swore I was right
My empathy was dull
Like some dumb animal
Not able to feel contrite

My head is hard
My sight is marred
The devil’s advocate I play
In the backyard
Feathered and tarred
I forgot today is your day

When we’re alone, want to atone
I even splashed on some cologne
Just want to again, hear you laugh
And maybe if it feels right
Baby a fire we’ll ignite
Forgetting all about my gaffe

My head is hard
My sight is marred
The devil’s advocate I play
In the backyard
Feathered and tarred
I forgot today is your day

I forgot it was your birthday
I forgot it was mother’s day
I forgot our anniversary
My calendar watching is cursory

I want to celebrate you everyday

Seeing Las Vegas

Written By: Joe Spitzer

If you visit the city of Lost Wages
Might nearly be blinded by the glitter and lights
The neon and the Jumbotrons
Attractions and spectacles reaching new heights

But if you can keep your eyes focused
Able to look past the gold dust and lust
You just might spot something with less pizzazz
Something more curious, something such as…

The shoe prints on the ceiling beams of the parking deck
At Caesar’s Palace Hotel and Casino
Immortalized for visitors just like that show
Starring the faux Frank, Sammy, Joey and Dino

You will see the mingling of the world’s classes
The working poor and the pseudo-urbane
The McRich with a gambling itch
Affluence, opulence, the plastic and profane


I wonder how they got there
Did it start out with a dare?
And are they only on level three?
Next time I’m back, I’ll check to see

Settle For The Dirt

Written By: Joe Spitzer

If money is not my color
If riches are not to be for me
Then I will have to do without
And only live off what is free

The chasm is growing wider
Between the Haves and Have Nots
Soon they’ll take this shirt off my back
The vultures will be casting lots

When the wealthy walk on by
And I am wearing this same old shirt
When they laugh and look down on me
I know I can deal with the hurt
If gold and silver are not on my person
Then I will settle for the dirt

Come together all you lowly ones
Standing on each other’s shoulders
We can fight the skyscraper set
The money lenders and bill holders

Come wallow with me in my meekness
To simpler ways we can revert
Forget the brokers who mistreat you
Let’s just settle for the dirt

Using your talents for selfish gains
Knowledge and power you pervert
To your ways of using people
I will not ever, ever convert
Come fill your pockets with the dust
And we can settle for the dirt