LaGuardia - Jim White, Mark Kozelek, Ben Boye

Flying in from Buffalo

Beside the highway, with the way the airport stacks up melting brown snow

Revealing what looks like Anywhere, Ohio

What isn’t the most charming place when covered in snow?

Could be an enchanting town in any story book or movie

When the town is covered in beautiful, white snow

But on this planet, in New Orleans, I’m feeling low

Could’ve been that hotel I stayed in in Buffalo

The Henry, a mental institution turned hotel

Mumford & Sons were in town and the place was full

Of guests who’d come in from Toronto

The artwork on the walls was all mainstream

Kombucha was on tap in the lobby

Check-in wasn’t until 4, what a bore

A few Mumford & Sons fans offered me chocolates

I believe the brand was Fowler’s

They asked me my name, I said, «Fred, Sanford»

They asked me where I was from, I said, «Stanford»

They said, «Oh, cool, Connecticut»

Looking out the windows of that lonely hotel

At the cars in the parking lots in surrounding rehab centers

I was reminded of my rehab days

During a long, young winter

Looking out those windows over Thanksgiving and Christmas

Smoking menthol cigarettes while my roommate bench pressed his bed

I sometimes wonder what happened to those kids

But at the same time, I’d rather not know

There are memories I’d rather leave behind in Ohio

Though they follow me wherever I go

At the layover for New Orleans at LaGuardia

I saw Rikers Island when I was landing

The sight of that prison makes me frightened

Reminds me of a friend whose friend had been there

I was staying with that friend in Brooklyn and his Rikers Island friend was

staying there

He came into the living room where I was sleeping

Looked at me in my underwear

I told my friend, «I can’t stay there»

He said, «Why?»

I said, «Because your friend likes to watch me get dressed and I got no privacy»

My friend said, «What, are you too good for me?»

And I said, «No man, I’m not too good for you

It’s just that your friend just got out of Rikers, and I got a bunch of cash on

me»

That was 1999, we went to the fight at MSG

In an attempt to buy scout tickets I had four grand on me

Got led down an alley, and almost mugged

We ended up watching the fight on a big-screen TV at a nightclub

After the fight we headed back to Brooklyn

When the cab stopped, my friend said, «Why are you getting out?

Where are you

going?»

I said, «I booked a hotel, I told you, I’m not staying at your place»

He said, «Fuck you, you think you’re above the rest of us now»

I said, «Hey man, I brought you Cuban cigars from Spain»

And he slammed the door on me, and I went to my hotel and checked into my room

My stomach full of pain

My brain full of pain

I hated it when my friend felt betrayed

And I hated it when I treated him that way

It’s just that I’d upgraded from sleeping on couches to hotels back then,

and I’ve kept it that way

Got into my place in New Orleans

It felt like another, it was 83 degrees

I opened some windows and turned on a fan

And watched the very talked about documentary, Leaving Neverland

A documentary about the kids who were molested by Michael Jackson

I never watched anything before that affected my body language quite like that

When the kids went into the details of what happened to them as early as seven

I thought if heaven or hell were real, Michael surely can’t be in heaven

While I was watched it, my body was turned to the right

As I kept watching, my face was turned to the right

I couldn’t sit squarely at the TV and my stomach was tight

I couldn’t fall asleep, and when I did, I had nightmares

I think more people are believing now that Michael was bad

But when I wrote this song «He's Bad», by the critics back then, it got panned

But now Oprah’s on board, and of course, more people are believing it and

hearing it

But back when I said it they didn’t

But he’s dead now, and my last words on him are, «Good riddance»

The next day, a friend of mine and I walked from Willie Mae’s to St.

Louis cemetery

Everything was closed that day;

the graveyards, the churches, the foggy house

poster for The Pirate’s Alley

She was new to New Orleans, and I asked if she wanted to walk to the

Mississippi River with me

She said she could see it from her hotel window just fine

I sensed her weariness, and she sensed mine

And we said goodbye

And I walked alone to the Mississippi River

And looked at the rough current that runs through the middle

That looks like a 10-yard wide streak of silver eels for miles and miles

Aggressively commingling just beneath the surface of the brown water

When I look at what looks like millions of silver eels aggressively twisting

all around each other

I think, «That's the current that swept Jeff Buckley off to his young death»

Jeff was a fan of mine, and he expressed it

But of his support, I never reciprocated

And he reached out once, and I never returned his phone call

Because I didn’t know what he wanted

I thought, «Why would Jeff need my validation?

Look at his cheekbones and listen to his Rob Halford range

He’s doing better than me, so what could he possibly want from me?»

Years after his death, I was having dinner with somebody who knew him well

She said, «I don’t think that’s what it was, I think he was looking for your

help»

I said, «Help with what?»

And she said, «Finding his voice

Not his singing voice, but his voice-voice, you know?

Jeff felt that you knew who you were, and I think he was hoping you could help

him find who he was»

I said, «My God, that never occurred to me»

I said this then, and I still believe it

That he would have found his voice by album three

I told myself that I’d call him back when he proves to me he’s got what it

takes to get to Jeff Buckley three

I’m sorry I never called you, Jeff

You were a rockstar with a legendary father

You had celebrity lovers

And from where I was standing, I thought that you thought you had it all

It didn’t occur to me, that like all of us, you also had insecurities

And I think of Jeff’s early death when I look at the Mississippi (Mississippi)

I think of a lot of the things when I look at the Mississippi (Mississippi)

Not just emu rides with my mother

And the story of Huckleberry Finn and Jim

So many memories of visiting the city

Of New Orleans, and walks along the Mississippi

A few whom I’m deeply missing

I’m alone and waiting for you full of loneliness and self-pity

I can’t wait to see you this Friday to share New Orleans with you in the spring

Being with you in New Orleans in the spring makes me happier than anything