A HOLE IN THE SKY
From a hole in the sky came a horrible sound Listen to me, listen to me There’re no angels back there We’ve been wrong, we’ve been wrong Listen to me, listen to me
There’s a great throbbing engine Driving this universe Rusted machinery Flame roaring furnaces
There’s a hole in the sky Where all the wind comes from There’s a hole in the sky The gods are laughing at us Cause we’re on the ceiling Up is really downWe’re on the ceiling We’ve got it turned around they’ve tricked us…
There’s a whole in the sky Where winter hides spring Yes, a hole in the sky Explains everything.
THE IDIOT TRAIL
the sign says…YOU ARE HERE! gee, what a relief…
a red dot…on a lineof some lunatic’s reasoning
what logic!…what sense!so stupid, it’s staggering
an idiot…trail that doesn’t know where it’s going
can’t miss it?…oh, yes i cani can miss anythin ggimme a hint…and i’ll drop it…
like a bush league catcher with a hole in his mittall the balls are taking crazy bounces
proudly point out the joints on your strip but all i’ll see are slaughterhouses
if fun can kill ya and work can kill ya and sex can kill yaand the air can kill ya that doesn’t leave a whole lotta options…
saddle up, buckaroos! it’s all uphill from here mount yer big dumb animal stake plenty of dope and beer the scenery’s such a wreck it’ll whack yer cameras…
we’re taking the idiot trail
and if fun can kill ya…i guess there are a whole lotta options, afterall!
so be happy…but beware there’s teeth behind those grins
so sweet…so instant but the hungry never win
cold-cocked…cold cutsa deli of disarray is this art?…or an ashtray?
the difference is moot, snuff out yer cheroot and see if anybody complains
slice through the sky in a flying knife or would you can always hop the bullet train?
if food costs money and clothes cost money and gas costs money and money costs money i guess ya need a whole lotta money…
buckle up, buckaroos! ‘cause we’re headed for angry weather and every part in this thing came from the lowest bidder last chance to use the can and call your mothers…
yahoo…we’re taking the idiot trail
yippy-ki-oh-ki-ay, huzzah, three cheers…
we’re taking the idiot trail
THE MAN IN THE RAZOR SUIT
oh…let’s take a look at you tally up your assets analyze your moods
if the devil’s in the details every angel is a fool…
have ya got a raincoat? or a razor suit?
mr. stick exploded on the scene, matured, then settled in quite comfortably
mr. stick’s opinions mix the friction of ambition with reality
mr. stick has often stated creativity is highly overrated
mr. stick is patient but his recent insights have not been appreciated
mr. stick was shocked to find his inner feral child was a spoiled brat
mr. stick took classes and racked-up some steep expenses trying to cope with that
oh…let’s take a whiffa you tally up your net worth analyze your stool
if the devil’s in the details every angel is a fool…
ya know we’re in your corner and we’re eager to approve
but are ya one of them goddam, girlie-boy raincoats or A MAN IN A RAZOR SUIT?
mr. stick decided that if other people did, well damn it so would he
mr. stick got worried that if other people were, well maybe so was he
mr. stick’s attention is always focused on his lack of concentration.
mr. stick’s still patient but his recent insights have not made a strong impression
oh…let’s take a whiffa you allocate your assets synthesize your mood if the devil’s in the details every angel is a fool…
ya know we’re in your corner and we’re eager to approve
but are ya one of them goddam, girlie-boy raincoats or A MAN IN A RAZOR SUIT? are you a man?
mr. stick thinks certain rock stars from the 60’s should retire gracefully
mr. stick, by living simply, cheats the chilly, harsh critique
of history mr. stick objected when his recent insights on these matters were rejected…
HEART WELD
you stained the front of your barbed-wire dress with your venom i wore the latest in “kiss my ass” smiles a couple of fakes from The Victim Collection a pot metal Mr. and Miss. Ed It By Miles i wanted to melt… through the ceiling
is it our jobs? this city?…whatever everything’s whispering “wish you were dead” pointing of fingers and other lewd gestures language exhausted, tongues all in shreds
steel scars rip apart at the heartweld each is each other’s favorite anvil yeah we pound, and we pound’til we bleed, ‘til we bleed molten metal
over your head whistles my sense of humor over our bed hangs a double-edged sword our love’s a factory out in the desert we know where it is, but like…what is it for?
i wanted to scream… i know what it’s for
i give my address as the end of my patience ‘cause lately that’s where i spend all of my time parked in an alley between our dreamhouses locked out of yours and evicted from mine
steel scars…
then all this slag pours out all my beams start to buckle girders can’t take the strain bolts shear right off(rest) cables snap and unravel
armor’s so fragile…
but it feels like it weighs ten tons when my shield’s always up, but my hair’s on fire from this shower of emotional sparks then you reach right in with a pair of pliers and crush my tin foil heart
aahh…you’re still the expert at slicing through the last cast iron nerve i’ve got left with a blast from a blow torch cigarette
steel scars…
then all this slag pores out all my beams start to buckle girders can’t take the strain
then it’s raining rivets on this cinder pile that we’re sliding down endless ash, scrap and rubble i reach for your ringbut it’s rusted and hollow…
armor’s so fragile.
SWAMP BOY
way up riverwhere the water runs black covered in kudzu is a tar paper shack
alligator skulls warn keep away when strange things happen ‘round here them old folks nod and say…
that’s that swamp boy that’s just his way
is he crippled or crazy? nobody knows harlan says he saw him but you can’t trust harlan he drinks that mash they cook up down in the hollow…
farmer john’s handgot bit by a horseit was planting timewhat could be worse?
you know it swelled up bad and his seed started to sprout the bank told john get in that crop or get out john cried “lord what do i do now?” woke up in the morning and his field was plowed…
when them hounds start howling you know he’s near bet he’s hiding in them bushes somewhere we can’t see him but we know he’s there
eyeball to a keyhole spies some oakies passing through truck starts to sputter and they ain’t got no food
so they went to bed hungry by the side of the road feeling forsaken lost and alone
in the morning oakie cried out “who do i thank for these two fried chickens and my filled up tank?”
thank that swamp boy…
he’s one part legend two parts lie mommas say “children, now you better mind and eat your beans or he’ll tan your hide”
dance down at the grange hall them doors open and in he walked
he had his hair slicked backa $2 suit betty said to sally mae “why…he’s cute!”
well, then he started to dance the girls went “oooh!”
he ran outside didn’t know what to do
we followed his footprints down to the edge of the bayou
man, he vanished without a trace well, scripture says each of us should stay in our place
when them hounds start howling you know he’s near bet he’s hiding in them bushes somewhere we can’t see him but we know he’s there
that’s that swamp boythat’s just his way…
DAVEY’S SISTER’S HOME FROM COLLEGE
COME ON, WAIT UP, HOLD ON YOU GUYS AIN’T NO FUNLET’S DO SOMETHING…
THEY’RE JUMPIN’ AT JERICHO’S LET’S GO DOWNTOWNLET’S GO DOWN TO CASTRO’SKICK SOME SPICS AROUND
I’LL BUST FOR CAB FARE DAVEY’S SISTER MIGHT BE THERE LET’S GO SOMEWHERE LET’S GO ANYWHERE…
CAN I STAND IN YOUR SHADOWS A MINUTE? LET’S RENT SOME BEER AND TALK ABOUT STUFF I’VE BEEN DOING LOTS OF THINKING… WHAT IF I DON’T STOP GROWING UP?
COME ON…
THERE’S A NEW FLICK AT THE REGENCY YOU CAN SEE WHAT’S-HER-NAME’S TITS DAVEY’S SISTER’S HOME FROM COLLEGE I WONDER IF IT CHANGED HER MUCH…
BODY BY FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT BRAIN BY UNIVACHER FOLKS ARE DOWN AT DISNEY WORLDSHE WAS ALWAYS ALRIGHT… FOR A GIRL
I COULD STAND IN HER SHADOW CATCH MY BREATH’ SHE WAS ALWAYS GOOD FOR COVER SHE MADE A BETTER DOOR THAN A WINDOW…
COME ON…
DAVEY’S SISTER ALWAYS SAID THAT 18 WAS JUST THE BESTTHAT 21 AND LEGALWAS ANOTHER NAME FOR LEGALLY DEAD
BUT SHE NEVER TOLD MEWHAT’S SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN AFTER THATWHEN YOU WEAR OUT THE SLEEVESOF YOUR VARSITY JACKET
DO YOU STILL HAVE FUN?DOES EVERYTHING CHANGE?ARE ALL THESE DRUGS REALLY FRYING MY BRAIN?
CAN YOU STILL DRIVE FAST?WILL THERE BE A GIRL FOR ME?COME ON, LET’S DO SOMETHINGTHAT MAKES US FEEL FREE
SO WE DID…WE JUST KEPT ON WALKING…WALKING WILD…(blowing like wild leaves).
THE BOTTOM OF A WORKINGMAN’S BEER
well, i know who’s president but i don’t know anyone who voted for him
can’t empty this glass it keeps filling up with all of my problems
video street fight constant “boing bing” in the background
and there’s a jar of purple eggs on the bar oh, i begs to be so embalmed
c’mon Oracle… answer my questions read the bubbles, which way is heaven? from the bottom of a working man’s beer?
the city of industry sneered down her stacks at my muscles
like i was something to sweat,just a truck, just a can for commercials
i told em, i told em, you can’t run this thing on just dazzle…
it sank like a tank in the mud it was a comedy special
c’mon…join the expedition see the ruins of a lost civilization… at the bottom of a working man’s beer
c’mon…join the migration we’re headed south, everybody’s sinking… to the bottom of a working man’s beer
and it’s cold and dark down here… where your butt’s in a sling, your nuts are in a vice and those “pull yourself up” bootstraps are dungeon tight
how do you tell your kid that his old man’s been jerked around by an Invisible Hand? the guys in the ties say “sir, we’re doing all we can” excuse me, Mr. Oracle, can i pay ya with food stamps?
i know who’s president…like it really matters?
he ain’t wearing this belt…the one that keeps gettin’ tighter and tighter
i was weaned on the dream that the fat of the land had no limit
yeah…my lap’s gotten fat but nothing good’s gonna drop in it…
c’mon…join the inquisition buried alive at the Cafe Mausoleum it’s me! it’s me! at the bottom of a working man’s beer.
yeah…i know who’s president…you bet.
PAINTED RAIN
CHEE CHEE, BEGGED ME WHICH WAY TO GO…? LEFT TURN? RIGHT TURN? OR STRAIGHT DOWN THE ROAD?
I SAY, I FLY BY BLUE RADIO JUST FOLLOW MY FINGERS GO WHERE THE BEAT GOES
LET’S POP A CHEATERSHAG UP SOME JAZZ BOWE’LL STAY UP TALKING ALL NIGHT LONG
CAUSE WHEN STUPID CITY’S PAINTED RAIN EVEN THE BLACKTOP CRACKS A SMILE AGAIN AND EVERYTHING JINGLE JANGGOES SHA LA LA LA…
NOW HOLD, ON BUSTER THAT DON’T CONNECT CHEE CHEE CAN SNAP, BUT YOUR LIP DON’T MAKE SENSE
I JUST, MAKE IT, UP AS I GO MY LEFT HAND IS LIGHTNING MY RIGHT’S A TORNADO
WE’RE TALKING TIGER COLD AS A CLINIC STRIPPING AND STRIPING ALL NIGHT LONG
CAUSE WHEN STUPID CITY’S PAINTED RAIN…
THIS DIRTY OLD COAT OF A TOWN’S GOT SECRET POCKETS DEEP DOWN WHERE THE SPEED WIRE SIZZLES YOUR SOCKETS ANYBODY FOR SIDEWALK ROULETTE? ANYBODY HUNGRY? WATCH CHEE CHEE AND WHAT’S-HIS-FACE DO ONE DUMB THING TOO MANY…
STARVED FOR SUMMER
summer…
everybody’s got money everybody looks good good for them… my summer job’s wasting time and sipping gasoline wine.
everybody makes sense everything is so clear power steerin’!! my backyard’s a sweat ballet of street iron lawn chairs
everything’s frozen now…
everything’s lush everything is so slick smear on some chrome lipstick and we’ll steal a pool skinny dip underneath a baby moon
‘cause everything’s frozen now around me…
starved for summer (dragster drags) ride yer pony… kegs let’s race ‘til we run out of road redline her ‘til it she begs oh…. roast me in a ragtop ‘til the vinyl sears my legs…
everything’s Harley everything is GT chow down at Grease Alley watch the guido girls cook service with a dirty look
everybody’s so clever everybody’s so thin buddy up and dive right in she’s in the shallow end uh-oh….she with her know-it-all boyfriend
‘cause everything’s frozen now except me…
starved for summer (color schemes) black top, chlorine and shell fire me up a cherry bomb “que” me up a thrill ‘til I’m helpless as a butterfly caught in a Beemer’s grill…
bet ya 50 bottle rockets I’m the only showboy left without a baby on the half-crib and house furnished in debt
one by one they torched their jeans, stripped and junked this gift something cold just came along and froze ‘em solid stiff
starved for summer…
oh yes…I am…a mani got a cock and a girl, and a ride that runs and…oh…i’m in a band! and I’m grinning like a gear headin a hot pink-slipped Trans Am…
starved for summer (thirsty glass) c’mon let’s drink some more yeah i’m smashed out of my skull that’s what they make it for so I can’t hear my head pound when the drunk cicadas roar…
and there’s no more…summer…
THINKING’ ‘BOUT THEM GIRLS
you’ve gotta stop…thinkin’ about them girls well, am I sick? am I ill? either way it’s quite a thrill got the ladies on my mind is there a better way to spend my time?
well, my school days were a mess got an “F” on every test but the teacher let me be got ‘A’s in anatomy!
well, one day i died in the church hall I was lied cryin’ ladies filed in but i left ‘em all with little grins
askin’ are you sure he’s dead? the preacher scratched his head if the man stays like that how we gonna…close the coffin lid!
I just can’t stop…thinkin’ about dem girls and I do not expect I will…most likely.