The Prince of the Moon

April 6th, 2011

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.

The Ancient Texts

April 6th, 2011

Burn them, said the preacher man, but someone laid these screeds to rest inside an old tire swing, covered up with old vines.

overload

overload
the lines are down
overload
the dam is blown

theres a dark side to the sky
but there is a light side too
which side are you betting on
what are you gonna do

overload
the lines are down
overload
the dam is blown

there really is no end
when youre listening to the wind
what’s it coming to?
when is this thing blowing through?

overload
the lines are down
overload
the dam is blown

we’re racing through the hours
between conflicting powers
it’s hard to win this game
maybe the wind’s to blame
but if i doubt,
you will doubt
you wont know to hear my shout

overload
the lines are down
overload
the dam is blown

overload
the lines are down
overload
the waters brown

princess

it’s a million years
since you been around
i saw you walking last spring
in your white velvet gown
i saw you in the hothouse
putting roses on ice
but princess
who you sleeping with tonight

hey princess who you sleeping with tonight
as i sit here with my can of warm beer
making love to the moonlight

you tell me the things
that i cant forget
your pockets are full of…
let me guess
you long for that hothouse
but you look to the sky
hey princess
who you sleeping with tonight

hey princess who you sleeping with tonight
as i sit here with my can of warm beer
making love to the moonlight

hey little princess
you forgot where you came from
where northern lights shine
on rivers of wine
and you banged your favorite drum
alone on the playground
with your feet on fire
you dont belong in that hothouse
you should grow wild

hey princess who you sleeping with tonight
as i sit here with my can of warm beer
making love to the moonlight

hey princess who you sleeping with tonight
as i sit here with my can of warm beer
making love to the moonlight

were you cultivated or did you grow wild?

flakes

i’ll remember you as i knew you last winter
you came out of nowhere
snowflakes fell like headless angels
and they melted in your hair

i still feel you shiver in the night
like a dream i never realized
it’s torture just to know that you’re not mine

livings free
but livings lost to time
and so are we
as alive as any flakes in the fire

we’ll burn to be what we dream of
we’re hidden in the fire
if I can stand the heat of your hand
we’ll climb on heaven’s pyre

livings free
but livings lost to time
and so are we
as alive as any flakes in the fire

ivy dell

i was born in ivy
destined to die
close to the old treeline
on the end of my vine
so i packed my bags baby
and stepped out for a look
over the pines, the long long pines
over mountains I flew

i knew that i made one big mistake
when i thought things would work out so well
i knew that i made on big mistake
the day i left ivy dell

ivy still winds
through the hills of my mind
i call across mountains
and hear my own name
it says oh baby oh darling
you were born to stay
how can you leave me this way?

ivy cradles my head
and creeps to my heart
with the lean of the willow tree
she tears it apart
she shuts my eyes, baby
and wraps up my hands
like the wind from a cloud
she carries me back

Living In A Ghost Town

March 18th, 2011

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

And the Horse You Rode In On

February 27th, 2011

Now we’ve had cars, trucks, trains, and now a horse. That’s what they call progress.

Up There:

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this is the part that you do not eat

Nobody Here is From Here

February 27th, 2011

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

The Last Train

February 23rd, 2011

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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all that's left is the track he was on

Scattered Leaves

February 21st, 2011

death train

baby ill use these hands for work
baby i will work your love
but i wont fold them up to pray
i aint going down that way

you say I’m running on the railway to hell
But I cant hear the whistle howl
or the ringing of the bell

i’m sleeping good on a death train
if you live like a dog, you’ll die on a chain
sleeping good on a death train
rolling on

look at the powdered preacher man
finger pointing right at me
sweatin and stooping in his suit
he just wants to be the one
sleeping next to you

sleeping good on a death train
if you live like a dog, you’ll die on a chain
sleeping good on a death train
rolling on

i’m sleeping good on a death train
if i cant stand tall ill be running in the rain
sleeping good on a death train
rolling on and on again

and i think im going home
and i wonder what its like
and im not crying in this cattle car
just got some smoke in my eyes

you say I’m running on the railway to hell
But I cant hear the whistle howl
or the ringing of the bell

i’m sleeping good on a death train
if you live like a dog, you’ll die on a chain
sleeping good on a death train
rolling on

i’m sleeping good on a death train
if i cant stand tall ill be running in the rain
sleeping good on a death train
rolling on and on again

up there

if you get up there
in the saddle
grab the reins and dont let go
if you get up there
just keep riding
ride until your thrown

if you believe
if you want to be free
if you get up there
you will be

past the treeline
up the hillside
ride until youre gone
just a hoof beat
just a heart beat
and there is no voice but your own

if you believe
if you want to be free
if you get up there
you will be

no more green pasture, there’s only sky
theres only hills to climb

just a hoof beat
just a heart beat
and there is no voice but your own
until there is no voice left but your own

if you believe
if you want to be free
if you get up there
you will be
you will be
you will

Sweet

February 20th, 2011

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

One More Time…

March 30th, 2010

Gold Mine:

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Today Your Name is Ana

March 16th, 2010

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

March 16th, 2010

Oh, I see. Right. I had no idea. Gosh.

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And Car Dude continued his tale…

adapted version of wikimedia commons image, click for information

Flat Tires For Sale

March 16th, 2010

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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Crazy Man Michael

March 16th, 2010

I caught glimpse of the fabled “guy who just walks around on the old trails”, staring at little bits of nothing, starting at the wind, never a man have I seen more in need of rescue. What if…he muttered. He obviously doesn’t belong in Ivy, Ivy must be a garden, right? And neither do his songs, but where should he/they go, if not there?

Rescued Songs

March 16th, 2010

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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The Russian’s Tale

March 16th, 2010

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

A Million Waves

March 15th, 2010

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

Oh, Gunpowder

March 15th, 2010

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

X Rayed Rose

March 15th, 2010

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

Some Disenchanted Morning

March 15th, 2010

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

Passing Wahoo

March 15th, 2010

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.