Show Do Tell: A Reading Series & Art Review

Matt Waters
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Matt Waters is a singer-songwriter from New York City. His songs range from character studies of the contemporary American to intimate explorations of love. A writer of fiction, he attempts to meld the musical and literary realms through detailed lyricism. He has been particularly inspired by the likes of Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Billy Corgan, Mike Scott, Isaac Brock, David Bowie, Tupac Shakur, Elliott Smith, Patti Smith, Nicole Atkins, Damien Rice and Bruce Springsteen. As a guitar player he’s influenced by the progressions of John Lennon and George Harrison. The lyrics to his song Aurora were published in the March 2017 issue of American Songwriter Magazine. An essay about being a performance artist called A Moment of Honesty was published in Guernica in May 2016.

  1. Aug 29

    Second-Hand Dream (Demo)

    Second-Hand Dream Bills are paid The lady stayed For at least another week A part-time French maid Leaves cognac on her father’s grave Loves when the radio plays, “Don’t Speak” Our modest abode A working Nintendo and rotatory phone A rented American dream I’m a pugilist and bartender My brother’s an English teacher with tenure My father’s in prison for a punch that ruptured some drunk’s spleen I took a second-hand dream And gave myself a life It comforted like a harlot Before it slashed me like a knife She took a second-hand dream And gave herself a life Thought she’d be a starlet Then she was my wife She got a gig Playing the wife of a whig In a burlesque about Andrew Jackson Thought she hit it big Then snapped like a twig When it didn’t provide much traction And me at the undercard at Gleason’s Fighting rabid pups for one good reason My father thought I was good at it She became withdrawn in a low season Her once holy vision tantamount to treason Often sighs melodic, “hope is just another habit.” Chorus Never came to nothing like an ultimatum I expressed doubts repeated verbatim She seemed to desire a world beyond My brother wanted to fight and mom forbade him But some men need gloves to attract a fair maiden She was being hassled beneath the blue neon These days the city streets seem to shine silver You can push penny stocks and still claim a sliver I couldn’t blame her for considering other possibilities I could have gone Union, a carpenter or builder She could fly away whenever the wind may will her Yet here on the sidewalk she still stands by me

    Second-Hand Dream (Demo)

  2. Aug 28

    No Oliver Stone (Demo)

    Well, we’ve blurred the distinction Between happiness and numbness Entertained to death How did I become this? And I buy the ticket For the billionaire’s team He secured with my loyalty And an annuity scheme Harmless pleasures To get us through the daze In case of an insight Forgone in glory’s blaze And I have my principles A routine of discipline Maybe I never got far enough out Of all these hours within I’m no Oliver Stone With a rabbit in my hat Take the camera in the chopper That’s the end of that I’m no Oliver Stone Putting the project over tact Berating some dreamboat That he can’t actually act No Oliver Stone Another high-noon On the frontier in my skull Where polarities die in gunfights Over their total loss of control A life less dramatic In the jackpot of responsibility So distant from my idealism As to wonder what it ever meant to me Suspicious of a stranger Occupying a narrative Sullenly accepting atrocities Their god would never forgive I know I still feel With whatever soul I hold onto But I’m just a painted figment In the distance on an unknown avenue

    No Oliver Stone (Demo)

  3. Jul 9

    Letter to my Double: A Yankees Season on the Brink

    Discussing the floundering yet still highly relevant Yankees on July 9th, 2026. Can they turn it around? Why do people tell lies about Brian Cashman? Who should the Yankees target at the trading deadline?

    Letter to my Double: A Yankees Season on the Brink

  4. Apr 10

    These Psychic Fields (Album Version)

    These Psychic Fields From the hotel window The city is a kaleidoscope Of blurred light In the bedroom mirror You voice your positive affirmation Once, and then twice On the nightstand There’s a torn pack of baseball cards And an empty bottle of Sapporo You watch another Twilight Zone Incredulous at the idea There’s two hours until tomorrow These psychic fields That connect you & me It has to be real Our gap in notoriety You feel like you are no one Not even worth the Strings I strum In the lounge there is a locker Left abandoned Tagged with graffiti Everyday you see a skull exploding While dining on your And memory There was a moment of momentum And then all the good luck Abruptly stopped They considered you for the picture Which was tinted and angled And you were unfortunately cropped Chorus You think about my life How you’d love to live in music And sleep on a tour bus You have one of mine Stuck in your head Specifically the chorus You daydream of wearing A leather jacket loaded With money and swagger When ponder living Someone else’s life The details never seem to matter Chorus Two men staring at the same city Only, from different Windows I am burden by the excess Of hope I carry While you nurse your thimble We both got drunk Couldn’t dream, even with A warm body in our bed Neither of us could touch The sudden snowfall upon All the living and the dead Chorus So, both of us wandered Out of our hotels Which were directly across the street It turns out Madison Avenue Is a perfect place for Strangers to meet We made eye contact, commented Mutually on the flurries, you joked about The shabby slippers on my feet Though you probably regretted never mentioning the album You once made Your humor before fate, Allowed me later to stop resisting sleep And fade Chorus Coda: What’s the worth of two men? One having more than the other Could we have been friends? Discussed both having a mother We separate ourselves, defined through Cause, career, and achievement We stare up at shadowy walls In the evening Having never really believed In any of it

    These Psychic Fields (Album Version)

  5. Apr 5

    Island of Broken Boys (Album Version)

    Island of Broken Boys This piece of plastic Is fantastic Accompanies me Through the sullen snow Our future recedes It was once orgiastic Now I practice Forgetting what I know The chief of police Held a press conference I watched it through the Window of a bar Where a faceless man Stirred a gin and tonic Watched a commercial With a pretty, singing star Jammed a cold hand in my overcoat And I continued onward The masses seem disillusioned With hope Now they’re starting To talk a bit tougher Chorus: And if you could fix This brokenness There’d be no reason to love you So my salvation Is a fabrication I refuse to invest in And if I could soothe Your Jazz Age blues You’d have no reason to need me So your depression Is actually an obsession With the theory of original sin ………………….. My screen feeds Endless imagery A repository for the Past It provides no epiphany But keeps me company Like a looping late-night News broadcast I’m notified To my surprise That my phone thinks I’m lost It recommends A taxi ride And calculates The cost Wondered near the Seaport sea And my boots Crunch upon the frost Your text message Reminds me Solidarity Is love unlost Chorus On an island Of broken toys Where the brutalism is Authentic You showed mercy To one lucky boy So the sewer mulch May be romantic In the time of The broken mirror Where the meaning Of morality is questioned In each other’s mind We find a glimmer Of the love that Must be protected Modern idealogues In a screen Who won’t feel the violence They advocate I take these walks Away from me Before returning home to you To create

    Island of Broken Boys (Album Version)

  6. Apr 2

    Blunderland (Album Version)

    Blunderland The streetlights glowed Chrystal white Against a confetti veil Of falling snow We looked to the left, looked to the right Picked nowhere in particular To go The champagne was nestled In the crook of your scarecrow arm We thought we’d spend The rest of our lives Never hearing an alarm Blunderland, Blunderland I guess it’s hard to understand How heavy reality rests In the palm of an ordinary man Blunderland There was a man dressed Like Santa Slumped against a blue mailbox His cotton-beard was decorated With an authentic December frost You leaned to touch his shoulder He acted like he’d been throttled He called you a cop And tried stealing your Cherry-tinted bottle Blunderland, Blunderland They slam a dollar In your open hand When you were only seeking Assistance to stand Blunderland We got into our hotel And there was an isosceles On the wall You gazed upon The street beneath us Said, “it doesn’t feel like I thought.” So I held you from behind Put a peck on your left ear Told you, “You’ve only been Conditioned by cinema, my postmodern dear.” Blunderland, Blunderland The record company Signed our band They bought us out For 27 grand Blunderland But still you were troubled And ambled for the inviting emerald Loveseat With a mirthless sigh and muttered, “why,” You kicked the suede boots from Your ballerina feet You let the bubbly Simply sink against your side I was suddenly gripped by the realization You would never be my bride Blunderland, Blunderland The things people do To feel fleetingly grand I had a vision of us in Rockaway Waltzing on the icy sand I said, “Monica, please rise,” And your fluttered eyes meant you were Listening I told ya, “don’t let this city get you down, because someday We’ll be reminiscing,” Over the whirlwind since graduation And the noises in our heads The little crack in the corner of your ceiling Where those nocturnal spiders Spun their fragile webs Blunderland, Blunderland Living like a slogan Portraying an All-American brand Because for some people It costs more than change Passing days out on the lam

    Blunderland (Album Version)

  7. Mar 28

    I Know Better (Album Version)

    I Know Better Ice cold morning A hole in my shoe I have to make some money To afford fast food It is raining razor blades But I’m in a good mood Everyone gets lucky sometimes I’m about due People bleed in different places diamond-shaped cuts in their faces Gashes on their elbows and knees Turn to ice-sealed scabs at 11 degrees I know better To be undermined by bad weather You shouldn’t be swayed By the well-meaning brigade Selling absolute doom It's good journalism But it don't carry a tune Blistering summer evening The concrete undulates I’m strolling the neighborhood Off the 3 AM train The moon is an empty plate My mind and body are plagued By the realization of wherever I go My malady refracts in new array Everyone has the right advice I’m unemployed, they’re Jesus Christ Preaching a sermon of responsibility to me Because I’m on an indefinite vacation after my bachelor’s degree I know better To be undermined by bad weather You shouldn’t be swayed By the well-meaning brigade Selling absolute doom It's good journalism But it don't carry a tune

    I Know Better (Album Version)

  8. Mar 24

    Hungarian Rhapsody -- Winter

    Hungarian Rhapsody -- Winter by Matt Waters

    Hungarian Rhapsody -- Winter
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About

Matt Waters is a singer-songwriter from New York City. His songs range from character studies of the contemporary American to intimate explorations of love. A writer of fiction, he attempts to meld the musical and literary realms through detailed lyricism. He has been particularly inspired by the likes of Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Billy Corgan, Mike Scott, Isaac Brock, David Bowie, Tupac Shakur, Elliott Smith, Patti Smith, Nicole Atkins, Damien Rice and Bruce Springsteen. As a guitar player he’s influenced by the progressions of John Lennon and George Harrison. The lyrics to his song Aurora were published in the March 2017 issue of American Songwriter Magazine. An essay about being a performance artist called A Moment of Honesty was published in Guernica in May 2016.

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