You hit the brakes and pulled aside,
said, “I’m on your side,
I’m on your side.”
I nearly broke right then and cried,
so sure you had lied.
“I’m on your side,
“I’m on your side,
my friend,” you told me again
as the traffic pushed on by us.
It killed me then that I could remain
on your side.
I’m on your side.
The years moved on and so did I—
swallowed my pride,
shoved it aside.
The call came in one autumn night.
I gave you a ride,
said “I’m on your side.”
“I’m on your side,”
I said and rolled out the bed
as you slept into the daylight.
I could run away or learn how to stay
on your side.
I’m on your side.
I watched you slip then,
a trail of bottles cracked and dripping down
into the plaster
of the walls you taught me how to build.
And I remembered
a lonely talk beside a crowded road.
Right then I knew I couldn’t hide
cause I am on your side.
One morning when the roads had froze,
I heard on the phone
“I can’t be alone.”
I tracked you down, looked in your eyes,
said “I’m on your side,
I’m on your side,
“I’m on your side.
My friend, you’ve blown it again,
but we all blow through it sometimes,
and come what may, I’ll always remain
on your side.”
I’m on your side.
I’m on your side,
I’m on your side.
I’m on your side,
I’m on your side.
That’s what I hear you tell me again
every time the road is broken.
I pull aside and thank god I’m alive
on your side.
I’m on your side.
Tamar Berk pairs trenchant autobiographical lyrics with brittle guitars for songs that will win over fans of early Liz Phair. Bandcamp New & Notable May 8, 2022
An ambitious pop song cycle about human loneliness and fear, thick with harmonies and buoyed by tight musicianship. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 27, 2018