Some of these people dreamed of escape. In their songs, they often spoke longingly of a pure land of fire, where everything is remembered.

Texas

A blue horizon’s all you see
Far cities fall below the sea
A broken leaf blows
Through your attic window
You light a cigarette
And dream about lost continents
And Texas
Will you ever see Texas?

In the morning at the end of time,
There’s cream beneath the quiet lights
Of Texas,
Will you ever see Texas?

When the lifeboats have all passed
You’ll follow on the ancient paths
To Texas
Will you ever see Texas?

Translucent armies flow behind you
Paper bridges wash away
Long red dresses and old blue suits
Fall beneath the Milky Waves
Of Texas
Will you ever see Texas?

There was a bar or honkey-tonk here at one time, you can still see where the ground is charred, it must have burned all the way to the ground.

The chinaman says he got a table made of bottle caps out of here.

Bottle Bottoms

Just empty the bottle. Spin it on it’s side. Kiss it on the lips. Stick your finger deep inside. Who’s it gonna pick this time?

The bottom of the bottle’s turning water to wine for me. The best things in life are cheap.

Tear off the labels. Tear off the warning signs. Just empty the bottles. Pile ’em up (pile ’em up, pile em up) and let them shine.

 

I’ve noticed a distinct lack of women around here – there’s like, none.

From what the natives tell me, even if you made it to Texas, there were perils. Either that’s true or they are seriously trying to cover something up.

P.S., Pain

Sacred Angel, cigarette stained,
You look so pretty in the dirty city
Making friends with Pain
But Pain is always a stranger

He’s coming round every corner
Headlights getting warmer
Sticking out like a foreigner
Pain is always a stranger

Torn up barby doll baby, wrapped in grace
You’re loving life from the other side
Flying high with Pain

Take off your ring
Strap on your wings
He will shout from above
Somebody owes him love
He will laugh at you
Until he’s blue
That is what he’ll do
Because Pain is always a stranger.

Out in the field below the moutain, I found strange lines and markings – so ancient, it looked as if the chalk had come up out of the ground, as if lines were drawn without human hand. They were kind of crooked, thin then wide, the remains of some primordial ritual manifesting itself, a blind force from before time?

If I stood in the middle of the design, what would become of me?

It turns out it’s just an old baseball feild. I sat in the bleachers and made popcorn out of dirt.

(down to one mic. have used acoustic pickup instead on some songs. reaching the end of this I think)

(oops! that was asswards! i fixed it:)

This entire artifact appears to have been assembled from broken bits.

The Ballad of One-Eyed Jack, the One Eyed Baseball Player

One Eyed Jack,
You hit the ball and the bat cracked
Doesn’t matter now if you run,
One Eyed Jack.

One Eyed Jack,
You’re King of the Cards in the back room.
Now they all say you should just do that,
One Eyed Jack.

Shuffle and spit
Listen for the pitch
ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha
You’ve come to far
To get beat by ball
ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha
One Eyed Jack,
Squint into the stands
One Eyed Jack,
They’re showing you their hands

One Eyed Jack,
Winning back all your chips, man,
Too bad you can’t play ball like that,
One Eyed Jack

Life’s like that,
That’s the diamond on the plate –
You get one swing and that’s your fate,
One Eyed Jack

Gotta think big
You got a one base hit
ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha
Your feet are on fire
But your swing goes wild
ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha
One Eyed Jack,
Keep one eye on the ball.
One Eyed Jack –
Watch the shadow fall.

One Eyed Jack,
The One-Eyed masturbator –
You’re playing the wrong game,
One Eyed Jack!

But in the heart of one eyed Jack,
There’s a boy and a ball.
Send it over the wall,
One Eyed Jack.

So I rushed to see the Russian, asking him excitedly about Roscoes and the missing songs. I think I interrupted him doing something, I noticed an accordion shoved hastily under a chair.

“Waht, you don’ wan’ gasoline?”

I asked him again about Roscoes. He flew into a rage, broke his Vodka bottle, and came at me with it.

“Nobody goes there, you unnerstan’! Nobody!”

I managed to escape with a few scratches. Maybe I’d have better luck with the Chinaman.

Something ominous is going on here.

Safari

There’s boys on my savannah
My trigger finger’s itchin’ yeah
Gonna get me a tailfeather
I’m going on safari yeah

I’m obliged to my savannah
Watching the herds graze
If the river rise today
I hope my family gets away

I’ll call my wife tomorrow
Do the children like the toys?
Then there’s nothing left to talk about.
I won’t talk about these dead boys.

I know what they did.
They know what they did.
Gonna hunt them down, safari yeah.

My life is flat like savannah.
It’s hard to understand it
when it lays across my heart, feather light
This boy is just a man.

The Confucian was philosophical. ‘Well, you have to understand…’, he said.

It turns out they were all in a band. The Confucian showed me his instruments, in his kitchen:

Do those really belong in a polka band, I wondered?

As for the lyrics, he said he couldn’t remember, and I’d have to visit the goatman who lived in the RV, he wrote all the lyrics.

Army

If I could find my army
I could save the world
If I could find my army
I swear that I could

If I could find my army
I’d fight for the rights of man
And write up all the wrongs
But I think my army’s gone

I saw seven billion children
Crawling on their knees
Burning in the jungle
Fire flying through the trees

And if I could find my army
Rising from the sea
They’d fall upon the shore
And wash the cities clean

It happened in the summer
A long time ago
By the time that it was over
We were crying on the phone
If I could find my army
I’d tell them in a letter
Now I’m thinking maybe
It was all for the better

I’ve always wanted to find a place like this.

Take me with you (when you go)

take me with you when you go
we don’t ever ever have to come home
take me with you when you go
there’s a white gate by the road

I was working on the new houses
when I was done I got on the bus
yeah I helped build those new houses
but not a one of them’s for us

take me with you when you go
we don’t ever ever have to come home
take me with you when you go
there’s a white gate by the road

skid row is just another apartment
look out the window at the tree
sit inside or go out on the balcony
just forget about being free

take me with you when you go
we don’t ever ever have to come home
take me with you when you go
where the wild flowers grow

all these places to live are the same
all the things to give you, they’re all the same
all the things to eat all the things that make me
laugh or cry, they’re all the same and cost the same
and lay the same amount out of our reach

and this is what they’re calling ‘liberty’?
fuck them
we ain’t free

there’s a white gate through the trees
falling down and rickety
vines creep across the fence
open it wide and go in

take me with you when you go
we don’t ever ever have to come home
take me with you when you go
there’s a white gate by the road

It’s OK. They only wanted me to be in their band. I play trumpet now. I’m on fire.

(Happy Solstice Everyone!)

(Lyric with chords:)

in the santa monica sun

c                                 g
parents watch and children wade
am                             g
in the santa monica sun
c                                g
gradually the smiles fade
am                            g
in the santa monica sun
am                g            c
in the santa monica sun

c                               g
shes got everything all OK
c                                                           g
on the beach on the blanket with a tight little j
am                     g
and a bottle of blue nun
am                g            c
in the santa monica sun

dont fall asleep santa monica babe
on the beach on the blanket with a cherry cheesecake
youll get burned and miss the fun
in the santa monica sun

f                                                 c
how she grew in that pool of gold
f                                                 c
she should never leave that fold
am                                    f
to interpret struggle or misery
c
she is raised to be
g
the special one
f
glowing
am                g           f
in the santa monica sun
c