And now I’m not sure why I want to find it and go there now at all. Not at all, not really much at all.
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Just kidding. There’s that forlorn man in the wood again, staring at the new brush, walking in the same circles, am I waiting there, half inside my past, my future… the distinctions melt with the winter’s last snow and I’d better check my steps, make sure they were what I thought they were…
Flakes:
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There was power here at one time but there’s nothing now. All of it was lost in a flood some time ago, or so I am told. Just the old rusted pylons. I found an old light bulb that may or may not work.
Overload:
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For every prince there’s a princess, or at least that’s what they told him. They never said it’d be the one you wanted. No wonder this letter was never sent.
Princess:
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He sounds all choked up, kind of hoarse. You gotta be careful sitting around outside.
This isn’t Ivy, this is some kind of ghost town, and every ghost seems to have an opinion about the way it’s been kept up. If I hear that crazy old lady in the spectacles bitch at me one more time about her damn broken windows, I won’t even pretend to feed her. I didn’t come all this way to be a tinker to the undead, and it’s a waste of good fried noodles regardless.
living in your heart
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you know its hard
living in your heart
living in your heart
its no dream house we live in
the walls of your heart are tilting
sometimes its too dark for seeing
maybe this whole heart is broken
and when the water drips in
could be the roof is leaking
could be tears you cant fence in
maybe this whole heart is broken
you know its hard
living in your heart
living in your heart
and whem the sun keeps shining
through falling good intentions
theres things that we never mention
maybe this whole heart is broken
you know its hard
living in your heart
living in your heart
its hard to sleep
in the rain and the heat
but there you are beside me
in this house of dreaming
it seems like
your heart is still beating
you know its hard
living in your heart
living in your heart
oh its hard
living in your heart
living in your heart
Now we’ve had cars, trucks, trains, and now a horse. That’s what they call progress.
Up There:
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This one dude drove by so fast all I saw was mud flying up.
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local boy
i dont want to be a local boy
i dont want to be that dude
i dont want to be a local boy
i dont wanna be like you
im heading home
my wheels are four by four down on the road
im living life
between the lines
to the sound of my radio
i dont want to be a local boy
i dont want to be that dude
i dont want to be a local boy
i dont wanna be like you
the years roll by
I’m drinking every night until the well runs dry
I’ll stay down here
one more year
laying low and gettng high
i dont want to be a local boy
i dont want to be that dude
i dont want to be a local boy
i dont wanna be like you
so just one more
because i cant find my keys or find the door
im hungry now
but I dont know how
and i dont know what for
Gotta get out get out get out get out get out
Put my wheel against a wall
Get out get out get out get out get out
I’ll run my tank on alcohol!
My daddy drank away his legs
A local boy until he hit the dregs
I’m not going out that way
Gotta get out get out get out get out get out
Get out
i dont want to be a local boy
i dont want to be that dude
i dont want to be a local boy
i dont wanna be like you
A rush of air. the smell of diesel – a mad eye winking to sleep and a steel dream, the last mile of the last train on the last straight track, and the last free man smiles.
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Sweet water dripping from a vine on one day of thaw. I see my reflection in an icy pool and have to wonder, if there were anyone here at all, what they would see.
The heavy tires throw up frost and slush. The light is on in the window, the sign says open.
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sweet on me
she’s sweet on me
like honey on bread
she’s sweet on me
sweet in my head
sweet like the sugar
that takes the edge off black coffee
at two in the morning
with the breakfast she brings me
she’s sweet on me
like honey on my bread
she’s sweet on me
sweet in my head
sweet like the syrup
on the edge of my table knife
we’re all alone in the diner
she’s quick and she’s quiet
and I’m just rolling through
I leave it all on the check for you
theres rain on my window
there’s a tape in the deck
the sweetest songs are the best
she’s sweet on me
like honey on my bread
she’s sweet on me
sweet in my head
Of course. It’s always about a woman when you get to the root of it. A woman, or lack thereof. And so the boy came to his conclusion.
Ana’s Attic:
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And with his lofty reverie of an actual house with an actual person in it, I left him behind as well and continued my search for Ivy.
Oh, I see. Right. I had no idea. Gosh.
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And Car Dude continued his tale…
Not counted among the permanent residents of what these people called ‘Wahoo’ was a young fella who apparently lived out of his 1981 Toyota hatchback. As the car was non-functional and immobile on account of it not having any wheels left, those wheels having been given up some time ago by the young man to pay off debts owed to old Bertha at the nearby diner for ‘food taken and eaten’, I don’t see why he shouldn’t be considered a resident especially since the rednecky dude lived in an RV. Maybe it’s becuase the Chinaman and the Russian said the kid ‘talked funny’. Anyway, the kid began his tale, starting tomorrow and moving back.
World Without Wheels
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I lost the mixes for these songs and rescued these versions from the myspace page. They have been myspacified and are of an even lower quality than they would have been! But that doesn’t matter at this point.
Needle
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World Without Wheels
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Ana’s Attic
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There’s this Russian guy, he lives in the old defunct gas station, he must have come over with the Confucian. His name is Max, and when I visited him, he assured me that he stood astride the Berlin Wall with a pickaxe as that wall fell beneath him, and he shared a little story about what really brought about the fall of the Soviet Union…
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Max then told me he believes history is made by individuals eating other individuals. I then left.
Letter from Yeltsin to Gorbachev, 1991
im sorry gorby but youre gonna hafta leave
take your ugly wife and your big important party
take down your flag, see, mine’s red white and blue
here’s your marching orders for you
all I said was that she was greedy like a vole
and all your goodwill was falling down the hole
and I told Vladimir she had an ass like a house
and that the people want a little mouse
screw your demotion, gorby, i’ll get my revenge
ill be president and i’ll drink all day again
like when I worked on houses for the proletariat
all the toilets worked in my oblast
i kept a secret from myself since ’32
now I can build the houses, gorby, here’s one for you
not unlike the one your party built for my dad
when he got back from the gulag
And this man, also from some strange clime or time, crossed a million waves to be here, to sing to me, him alone, it seems, and unlike the trailer man and the chinese passenger, his brow was light. Perhaps he still gazed upon the stars.
A Million Waves:
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the waves break on the sides
gotta keep the sail wide
then im rocked for a million miles
of endless waves and my heart says
that is all that awaits
a sleeping bag around me
i guess ill sing my self to sleep
old tin cans rattling
and ancient whispers
keep me breathing
and my heart beating
keeps me wise and pulling lines
in the light of the sun
in the morning
A stranger, not from here at all, a man of foreign visage and demeanor, with a permanent crease on his brow, but a fellow scientist I gathered.
Oh, Gunpowder:
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they went looking for the essence of life
did they find it?
they went looking for the balance of everything
did they find it?
sulfur
saltpeter
a paperweight
and honey
sulfur
saltpeter
a paperweight
and honey
they went looking for the origin
did they find it
in the beginning was the explosion
did they find it?
oh gunpowder
you are forever
sulfur
saltpeter
a paperweight
and honey
sulfur
saltpeter
a paperweight
and honey
they went looking for immortality
did they find it?
they went looking for perfect morality
did they find it?
oh gunpowder
they found you, oh gunpowder
we killed each other
and set each other free
and the fireworks went flying
sulfur
saltpeter
a paperweight
and honey
sulfur
saltpeter
a paperweight
and honey
What a sad shell of a man, an empty shell, and I shuddered to hear his song.
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then theyre gonna put you in the tunnel
then theyre gonna lie you on the table
what am i gonna say to your mom
shes gonna think that its my fault
x rayed rose
x rayed rose
x rayed rose
x rayed rose
then theyre gonna stick you with a needle
then theyre gonna cut your pretty petals
then theyre gonna prune your thorns
baby are you gonna be reborn
baby are you gonna be reborn
The first inhabitant of Wahoo was pretty straighforward, the local type, lots of those guys in these parts. Did I know, before he opened his mouth to sing, he lived in a big old RV?
Some Disenchanted Morning:
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i’ve been stuck in this old trailer
in the darkness and the rain
down by the field where i met her
at the edge of the hay
i spun my wheels into the mud
it raining hard and im stuck real good
she told me I missed all of my chances
and i wont get any more
in a cold trailer with no romances
waiting at my front door
all the powers down tonight
the water’s coming up over the dike
some disenchanted morning out on the sea
my door is wide open will you run into me
some disenchanted morning here’s hoping
your door is wide open come on baby
come on baby
come on baby
On my way to Ivy, or where I hoped Ivy would be, I passed through a little town called Wahoo, population: five. The five people told me that ‘Wahoo’ was Indian for ‘Really Fucked Up’. Anyway, each one gave me a song.
A Million Waves:
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Some Disenchanted Morning:
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Oh, Gunpowder:
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X Rayed Rose:
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They all started at the same time, but after a while I deciphered the cacaphony and realized that they were all just telling me what they did that summer, in their own way.
And lo and behold, buried in the dirt, a song of similair vintage… does this explain the player’s poor performance or is he buried all by himself?
Look what I found underneath the tree…
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