Elijah Cash was inspired to write another song by the good people at The Getaway, our favorite bar in DC. This tune is for a particular snarky server, though Eli promises this is the most harmless of flirting. When we were drinking there Thursday night, they played Eli’s first song for the bar, and it was fun to see people enjoy our work. Eli asked our waitress and Jeremy the owner for a new song idea; she said, “write about a snarky server,” and he said, “use the phrase ‘Jeremy the owner.’” Done and done. Jeremy warned Eli to curb his enthusiasm, to not overdo it; he said bands stay cool and exclusive by releasing songs every three years, like Radiohead. But that isn’t CI’s style. We are about quantity, baby. We have a raging, burning fire to create, and nothing should stop it. That’s why we’ve decided Eli’s next EP will by titled The Getaway; it will be a compilation of songs about that bar and drinking in general. A perfect theme. Stay tuned. And enjoy these blues, friends! — K.C.
The Only One I Want In My Net
When I asked you where you’re from, I liked to watch
the small talk spill from your mouth.
You’re a worldly woman, and all of your charms
cast a spell on this boy from The South.
And Jeremy the owner says I don’t stand a chance,
but you’ve never met a man like me.
All my friends know I think you’re cute,
and all my friends know I come here to see you.
And you can be the snarky server all you want.
It won’t make me give up the hunt.
I promise I’ll be flirting until last call,
if you just make all my drinks tall.
I just learned your name, and now I want to know more—
dive a little deeper with each pour.
You are quite a catch, so the question is:
have you been caught yet?
There are lots of fish drowning in this bar,
but you’re the only one I want in my net.
I know a place in Columbia Heights
where everyone goes to get high.
They pour your drinks nice and tall,
so you can forget it all.
At The Getaway, that’s just what we do.
Come on, my friends, I want to get away with you.
Some get away from their desk jobs;
they’re tired of wearing a suit.
They slave away all day
for The Man in their cubes.
Some get away from the bad news
up on The Hill:
Politics and back stabbings,
white-collar cheap thrills.
Some get away from the loneliness
filling up their mind.
Once they have a drink,
everything feels just fine.
Well the gods of booze and a few good men
built us this place,
so we escape artists
can get away.