Heard you keep missing your calling
Never called me much anyhow
How you like your only talent of stalling?
It's the Loser Play! Take your bow!
Someone said you bit the bullet
And bit that chip off your shoulder
Well, every action has it's fee
Let me tell you better you than me!
Interlude:
When you ever gonna learn you're atop every bridge
you ever burned?
Getting pretty sly with that Judas Kiss
And it's showing on your pretty face
Face crumpled like a no-good canvas
You're the hare in your loser race.
Hit the dirt, stayed down there
Looking down with that ever-vacant stare
Is your glass permanently half-empty?
Like I said, better you than me
Interlude:
When you ever gonna find the needle in the hay
ain't paying you no mind?
Heard you're chronically stoned
Too buzzed to feel friends circle and stone you
Circling down, that why you haven't phoned?
Dizzy Man with the same no-new view
Milked anything you had for awhile
Stole milk like it was going out of style
Didn't your mama tell you nothing's for free?
She didn't? Well, better you than me!
Interlude:
When you ever gonna see every shadow you own is
your enemy?
#Diamonds
are Forever (and so are grudges)
Diamonds are forever and
so are grudges;
Itd take the stone the size
of something big to try to budge it.
There was once a king who
thought of changing his mind
Wondered if he or his jewels
were really one of a kind
(a pawn brokers find).
You can help it.
Oh, yes you can.
Get a callous on the palm
of your hand;
Like a working man.
He heard diamonds cut glass
and drew a heart on his window
Then sat on the sill and
felt the breeze come from below
He heard it takes a million
years for a diamond to be made from coal
And the king reasoned he
wouldnt live that long or else hed be real
old
You can help it.
Oh, yes you can.
Get a callous on the palm
of your hand;
Like a working man.
Bartered his jewels for something
real;
Said bye to royalty with
a turn of a kingly heel?
The king issued his edict
on the street and
Asked his subjects to not
kneel and have a seat.
He said this is your command!
Or just do it if you can.
Do it if you can.
The king declared it was
time to leave his throne
And head somewhere farther
than a throw of a stone.
Made his getaway in a broken
down van
And his view stayed the
same as his wheels spinned in the sand.
Despite the best laid plans.
You can help it.
Oh, yes you can.
Get a callous on the palm
of your hand,
Like a working man.
Do it if you can.
Dress
Down
Your coat don't do much good in June
Lead threads keep your heart from singing its
tune
(keep your heart from singing its tune)
Those gloves don't let your fingers show
You know, it's been a while since a June sky snowed
(it's been a while since a June sky snowed)
Dress down
Dress down
Dress down
Your hat is sand-bound, crabs take it for their
home
Let them set up ship cuz hat tricks went out long
ago
(ya know hat tricks went out long ago)
Pull your scarf from your neck my dear
You'll need a naked neck to feel this air here
(oh to feel sea air here)
Dress down
Dress down
Dress down
Let your laundry sun on the line, let it all be on the line.
Your shoes got stuck in a wet-sand show.
Let them go, we want our footprints to show
(I said I want our footprints to show)
Slip off your sleeves, you'll now wear your heart
on your wrist
Fish-flop your arm, relax your hands from that
fist
(I said, relax your hand from that fist)
Dress down
Dress down
Dress down
Naked babes play on the shore where they've yet
to regret no rags
Now your smokes will be your cloak where your
skin wears every drag
Dress down
Dress down
Dress down
Dress down
Dress down
It's easy to catch crooks in South Ferry and you're the bandit that
forgot to runaway.
Since I won't, the docks will say farewell. In the way that docks
do, sound like an ear to a shell.
You're on due course.
Due course.
There is no place to strive for anymore.
The ship's destination is the ocean floor.
I sunk you at sea. Purposefully.
You're going on a journey.
Ship deports, there's no bye-waving white handkerchiefs.
No black and white photos, no pillbox hats, part of a 1940's myth.
The deadpan sky says in his best poker voice:
"he who is shipped to sea doesn't have a choice."
You're on due course.
(due course)
You're on due course.
There is no place to strive for anymore.
The ship's destination is the ocean floor.
I sunk you at sea. Purposefully.
You're going on a journey.
No fog lifted, no fog horn blues.
No one knew that blue could be induced.
Straightening sails become a pinprick on a flat horizon.
And the lapping waves marked time cuz the sun didn't seem to be rising.
The sailor moon says:
"well, maybe someday soon catastrophe won't have to be induced."
You're on due course. (due course)
You're on due course.
There is no place to strive for anymore.
Your ship's destination is the ocean floor.
I'll sink you at sea. Purposefully.
You're going on a journey.
Sink or swim time, six o'clock sun sits on down
Suitcases closing, feet start hitting the ground
Bait-eaters swim to reflected, dusky day
Getting lined in is the compass to point fishies
on their way
Remedy for remnants is to bring 'em for the ride
"Hitchhikers welcome" (she called) to hear her
echo in the sky
Anchor chain lowers-girl get on that boat!
Train whistle blows-boy you gotta go!
Destination calling, all aboard, you know
Fly the way of the crow
Chorus
Every horse has its rhythm
Each mare has her way
The stall doors will open
And hooves canter away
"Without us", she said, "no mule will stay alive"
"World-weary woman", muttered the fella to her
side
Every dell proved that far's closer than near
Began believing their elders who called this stretch
the Trail of Tears
They thought how they'd be missed by just the
dust
No one is sacred in this yearly exodus
Chorus
City limits--no more hummin' "Homeward Bound"
Shotgun seater shushed for specificity's last
sound
Boomerang beat ain't keeping time no more
It's on a one-way route to the shore
Ain't coming back no more
Ain't coming back no more
The hindland seemed to relish their absence
Though she and he kept thinking in past tense
In the rearview's a scene of stumbling tumbleweed
Gawking is a no-no, bridge troll's asking for
his fee
pre-Chorus/ Chorus
If a tree falls in an empty forest,
Does it make a sound?
And if a blind girl takes a picture,
Will an image be found?
I think I see my cowboy man-
Or is it just an image on the drive-in screen?
I think I see my paddy man-
Or are my eyes just seeing green?
Chorus
With my camera strapped 'round my neck
Not in my neck of the woods
Always one step back, just one step back
One step back from what is good
Lead me blind-man-bluff-style where you wanna go
Since you seem to know your way
Through handkerchief eyes I spy a glow
But what you can't see you can't remember anyway
I suspect we're at a clearing now
Imagine a snapshot in my head
Where what was green has now aged to brown
And still reeks of what I should've said
Chorus
To play the game or watch the play, it's a tough
sell
But I get a funny feeling I bought this blindfold
myself
Someone told me that beauty surrounds me
But I have yet to catch the sight
Of this supposed pretty scenery
Then again, I'm just awake at night
Chorus
Ran the length of Manhattan, couldn't get far enough.
Staring at the Hudson, still not feeling tough.
I was ready to run, guess I jumped the gun to
run around in circles--that ain't no riddle, nor
no pun.
Watching water lap, wishing for some past
to latch onto something--a log, a rope, a raft.
Even when I run things go so slow
where everything I have gets pulled down by undertow.
A false start or not even.
That had me for a beginning.
Circles should shift and bend,
but this is a line with an end.
Can't look at SoHo without getting down
all the while mustering my best upsidown frown.
Seems what I need is an East Avenue touch
but chosen solitude don't hurt me much.
Can't tolerate being compensated--
Look at me--22!--and already I'm jaded.
If it's good to see me then why you be borough-leaving?
Sad part is, part of me is still believing.
A false start or not even.
That had me for a beginning.
That had me for a beginning.
Circles? Please shift, please bend,
please don't let this line have an end.
Bust pass the bus, ain't stop for breath
cuz every side street is where your memory is
kept.
One of these days, the Hudson'll have its day
and
overflow onto concrete--Manhattan's a Paradise
Bay!
But until I swim over Chelsea I must run
until my thoughts of you are baked and cooked
and done.
When that river finally floods,
I'll rest these legs of mine and say--babe, you
done good.
A false start or not even.
That had me for a beginning.
That had me for a beginning.
That had me for a beginning.
Both sides of the street are so hazy to me
Once straight, yellow lines waver 'neath my Sucker
Feet
Well, I'm up so high cuz I won First Prize
For believing the truth within your lies
My smile is set in stone
As I ride to fetch your lying bone
Guess your bark is less than your bite
Chalk one up to the Fool Girl Plight
Chorus
You can't undo the deal you made
Forced me on the float of the Fool Girl Parade
But when the crowds' cheers lull and fade
You won't remember where I lay
The Sidewalk Kids laugh at the joke I've become
There's bruises on my skin, and my hair's come
undone
Marching band repeats the same set song
Then I laugh when I realize I belong
My crown is falling, I dream you're calling
I'm stuck in my own skin
But how long can I keep this up
Before this end can begin?
Chorus
The pick-up truck is losing gas fast
And somehow I knew you'd be the last I'd pass
When I raise my hand to say goodbye
Something else has caught your eye
Chorus
I hear you hitched a ride to Fundy Bay and set your sights on nomology cuz your feelings were too dismal to keep at bay. So you count 2x2 cobblestones at your feet-that's all you can manage on the Canadian side of the street-I have a feeling it'll be a while before we meet again. I got this gut fear from the latest radar or the feeling when I watch un-falling stars even if I wish for them to fall real hard.
There you go. It's like you're sleeping under a blanket of snow.
There you go. It's like you're lost in-or buried in-snow.
The weatherman claimed that qualms of sadness would fall fast from the sky today-I hate it when he talks that way-the weatherman should be banned from speaking metaphorically. But you can't believe what you hear on t.v. today-come to think of it I never believed you much, anyways. I guess it's a question of the chicken or the egg. I tried to say this all with a shy mumble but I fumble with words, I bumble my hurt-you make act humble, hun, but deep down it works on you.
There you go. It's like you're drifting through drifts of snow.
There you go. It's like you're lost in-or buried in-snow.
The prediction called for the worst
or did I ask for it first?
The forecast called for the worst
or did I ask for it first?
I hear you hitched a ride to Fundy Bay.
Actually, I lied.
It only feels that way.
For all I know, you could be right across the
way or you could be in Paris or somewhere so cold that it snows (even though
, I know, you hate the snow so)-at least I won't be there to say "I told
you so". Well, you sporadically proved your love, love-I guess that's
something I should be thankful of. Now I'll try to think what I should
think of.
There you go. It's like you're sleeping under ten blankets of snow.
There you go. It's like you're
Lost in or
Buried in or
Looking for or
Askin for
More snow.
There
is something to be said of silence,
where
closed lips and tongues bit lead to no sign of violence.
Are
you thinking of someone else? Or just yourself?
I know
for myself, I put myself back up on the shelf.
If
I retrace my steps of the last month or so,
I wouldn't
have far to go,
I've
been chair bound, made no footprints,
sittin'
's been my only stint.
If
you retrace your steps back to me, I can almost guarantee,
I won't
get up (I've been so down),
This
chair has got the best of me.
I'll
take it sitting down.
I'm
the champ at backing down.
Just
back, just back, I'll back, I'll back down.
If you
wanna hang up the gloves first, well clearly you know me worst,
hate
to make your bubble burst but giving up's my greatest curse.
Can't
duck punches in an idles chair--hooks and jabs?
Now,
that ain't fair.
The
ring's been dark for some time
This fighter
takes her towels white.
Sip
my mixed drink of nostalgia and alcohol,
where
I swill like it's Last Call, my drunken hopes grow too damn tall.
So
I'll wear my hungover shakes (as I'm prone to do these days)
so
I'll hide blue eyes getting blue, giving nothing away to you.
These
Changes come so slow. So slow.
Where
it takes the sun a hundred steps to make a shadow.
I'll
take it sitting down.
I'm
the champ at backing down.
Just
back, just back, I'll back down. Down down down.
I was
never too good at putting up fronts, maybe that's why my back got the
brunt
of a crazy hit and run, pancaked, I guess I'm done.
Mowed
down by a clown car full of feelings,
variations
on sadness, must be hiding Bozos in the ceiling.
So
I'll play solitaire--with only 51 cards there,
I never
said I didn't feel hard, you'll see my frown in that Joker card.
Need
an 8th wind or a 9th life, if I had a feline-like mind,
or
had faith in second chances,
try-agains
and slow last dances.
Slow
last dances. Low last dances.
No
last chances. Slowed down chances.
I'll
take this sitting down.
I'm
the champ at backing down.
Just
back, just back, I'll back down.
There's no sense in being loyal
If it's loyal to a memory
If I watch your cold pot not boil
I'll flee this one-way street
Look back less with every mile
Care less of what was s'posed to be
There is nothing like denial
To blur your periphery
Conscious effort to forget
You've already done so, I'll bet
Matters little anymore
Nothing's worse than the day before
Chorus
It's not Yesterday
(and that makes it better)
It's not Yesterday
(so I should feel better)
It's not Yesterday
Can't really say I enjoyed my stay in
Yesterday
Guess now I can be on my way
Pluck these whiskers one by one
Beaty eyes'll turn back to blue
My role as pack rat now is done
I'll pick up my self-inflicted cue
Souvenirs that line these shelves
Prove of warnings I didn't heed
Knick-knacks purged from former selves
So long to this menagerie
Done with wantin' back trackin'
Done with thinkin' cul-de-sac-ian
Doesn't matter anymore
Can't be worse than the day before
Chorus
Here lies the half packed mem'ry tray
Thinking if it's time to think twice
Straddled 'tween safe and uncertainty
Where nostalgia become a vice
The quicker I fly, the slower I'll go
Take my rest, then let it be
Curtain's closing on this show
Well, here I am and here I be
Why defend your memory
If you can't be nice to me?
Time to negate what was,
Doesn't matter just because…
Chorus
My manners haven't been too good as of late-
Mine as well be putting my elbows on my supper plate
And my mouth don't say the nicest things,
But when you count time you gotta resort to something.
(1-2-3-4)
Drop a coin in a mason jar cuz the walk to the wishing well seemed too
far
But a jar don't grant wishes so why bother?
I'm thirsty anyhow, so I'll fill it up with water.
(1-2-3-4) (water what for)
Keep your head up straight-
Even with egg on your face.
I hear that yolk is good for the skin anyway. Anyways.
Dip your feet in bleach so your footprints come clean-
But, babe, I'm sorry, I know exactly where you've been.
But you forgot to give me a head's up-
I kinda like to be warned about heartache and such.
(1-2-3-4) (The fool times four)
I shoulda known since I live on repeats (repeat repeat),
I come around like clockwork or summer's heat.
Keep your head up straight-
Even with egg on your face.
I hear that yolk is good for the skin anyway. Anyways
My face is as blank as the one's in guns.
But my red, heartache skin ain't foolin' no one.
If faces tell a story, yours is a strange tale
That confuses the reader without fail.
(1-2-3-4) (still want you more)
This ending may come as a surprise:
Look at me before I dissapear before your eyes.
Dissapear before your eyes.
I try not to look in the mirror anymore-
If I said it once to my face, what's four times more?
(just four times more) (just four times more)
Keep your head up straight-
Even with egg on your face.
I hear that yolk is good for the skin anyway. Anyways
Bygones cannot be just bygones, I can't let them
be.
But there is much more said in absence, you won't
see much of me.
Sit in your little room. I'll give a little room.
Let your ash lengthen, since you won't put your
smoke out.
No give 'n' take, no output, maybe i'm here to
put out?
I'm heeding to leeway.
Don't know how long that can stay, but I'm heeding
to leeway.
I must sit still (be still my bones) cuz I said
I wouldn't fuss.
You will be still (I know that now), guess
you are nonplussed.
This room is your own while I dodge sticks and stones.
I will sing my lusty swansong in our last moment's
wake--
Some little ditty, some upbeat shit--I am the
genuinest fake.
Can't distract you from how it is you'll tell me
what it is you'll tell me when it is you'll tell
me
when it is you'll tell me when it is you'll tell
me
I'm heeding to leeway.
Don't know how long that can stay, but I'm heeding
to leeway.
The butts just pile up but I'm still unredeemed.
Just space for one smoker here or so it would
seem.
Make me far from here. Make me feel not here.
Keep your cool, keep it down, I said I wouldn't
touch
but with the air so still and smoke-filled I doubt
I could feel much.
There is a margin of freedom I haven't wanted to
allow.
But allow it I must. Allow it I will.
Allow it I must. Allow it I will.
I'm heeding to leeway.
Don't know how long that can stay, but I'm heeding
to leeway.
I'm bleeding for leeway.
I'm bleeding for leeway.
I'm bleeding for leeway.
Make do, make do
If I'm seeing double like i've been through this
again,
don't mean I gotta let logic kick in.
And if I'm living vicariously through me--
well, see, that's just redundancy.
Make do
Make do
You know you can always make do.
And maybe you might not feel as hard,
don't mean i'm gonna leave your backyard.
And if your hammock don't swing that high,
we can just sway from side to side.
Make do
Make do
You know you can always make do.
Toast the bottle up to eclipse the moon,
we don't have to head up there anytime soon.
I will will it so. Well, no. I don't
know.
Just let it go, let fall turn into snow.
And it's okay if you don't feel as sure,
that's what kissing is for.
Make do
Make do
You know you can always make do.
Let's say the river before us is a lake tonight,
Cuz at night a river can look so wide.
Let's call the sky above a freeway from afar,
cuz a black night can look like a flip-flop road
paved in tar.
(oooh) We're on Makeshift Grounds tonight,
let the ground make up its own mind.
We'll call the ground below us dirt,
hell, it's only a word.
If I wear a shawl my shadow looks like a ghost
silhouette--
trying to scare myself of things that haven't
happened yet.
Sure, shadows spook, even mine gives me chills--
still, what's scarier still is you'll get your
limit of me,
you'll get your fill.
We're on makeshift grounds tonight,
let the ground make up its own mind.
We'll call the ground below us dirt,
hell, it's only a word.
Let's make is simpler still.
"Simple" doesn't exist,
"simple" is nil.
If I wrap that shawl like a cast, I could be called
"mummified"--
where I cast spells or cast hooks and lines in
wishing wells.
One would think I wouldn't need bait, it could
be just imaginary
and the "reeling in" could be a show where words
mean less than imagery.
Where words mean less than imagery.
We're on makeshift grounds tongiht,
let the ground make up its own mind.
we'll call the ground below us dirt,
hell, it's only a word.
hell it's only a word
hell it's only a word
Nothin' Too Special 'Bout That
This road trip took me about two feet, if that,
"But nothin's foolproof, fool," I said, alone,
looking at the map.
I guess I have suffered-nothing too unique in that.
Took my heart on the road just to get a flat.
As I said there's nothing too special 'bout that
But I'm wondering will it be inflated back?
Can you help me get it back?
Can you help me get it back?
So I guess everything comes back to haunt you?
No spirit unresurrected that won't try to taunt you?
Like I said there's nothin' too special 'bout that.
But I'm wondering will this ghost get off my back?
Can you help me get it back?
Can you help me get it back?
Even coffee don't do it for me anymore-
Things that once excited me don't excite me anymore.
And I know there's nothing to special bout that
But I'm wondering will it ever come back?
Can you help me get it back?
Can you help me get it back?
Well this wound will go unreported
But my heart is sure to record it.
But it's nothing that nobody hasn't been through
(except it's you).
Pin the tail on the map, hope against hope
Do what any other girl would do when she's feeling low.
Fully aware there's nothing too special bout that
But I'm wonderin' will he ever come back?
Can you help me get it
Can you help me get it
Can you help me get it back?
Opaquer
Place
Sure, I'm selling my shit on the streets.
As of yet, got no takers.
Cuz I'm charging an arm and a leg and limb
for this trash I hate
on the dark side of Opaquer Place.
--Buying some time at Opaquer Place--
--Selling my finds at Opaquer Place--
Try to bring this thing right bring this thing
right outta me
Trying to force this thing out force it up outside
of me
See how far my hands can dig down deep inside
of me
Blackened goods do show the depths of my dependency
Chorus
Old habits don't die easy
Dying horse has few breaths left
Opaquer Place has pulled the reigns on me
And I wish it wouldn't rain less
Like a salesman who shows the inside of his trench,
I, too, got goods stashed in my guts.
Maybe they're see-through, but I got a feeling
they're not.
Wrenching them out doesn't take that much.
--This is the weight of Opaquer Place--
--This is the way to Opaquer Place--
Keep on trying to just wrench it up on outta me
This dirty stinkin' sell will never let myself
just be
To have this habit monster staring up and back
at me
Clutching to terrible is where I always wanna
be
Chorus
Old habits don't die easy
Dying horse has few breaths left
Opaquer Place has pulled the reigns on me
And I wish it wouldn't rain less
I'm giving a piggy back ride to the worst thing
in the world.
Then I'll sell my back for a buck.
There won't be a line to buy back a piece of my
spine.
Been a while since I gave a fuck.
--This is the way of Opaquer Place--
--This is the way to Opaquer Place--
--I am the disgrace of Opaquer Place--
--I am the disgrace of Opaquer Place--
Making certain that this shit is somehow close
to me
Terrible, it seems, is where I always wanna be
Grab me by the throat and sees what throws up
out of me
Taking back seat while the sorrowed crow will
take the lead
Chorus
Old habits don't die easy
Dying horse has few breaths left
Opaquer Place has pulled the reigns on me
And I wish it wouldn't rain less
I wish it wouldn't rain less
I wish it wouldn't rain less
I wish it wouldn't rain less
A silence in a restaurant
could slice the sky in two.
And the longer it goes on,
the more I wanna fall right through it.
Blame it on the sky when
there's nothing left to say.
Blame it on Mars when my
face flushes red.
Blame each incident on planet
placement.
He might take himself lightly,
but I never did.
And if an old star can die,
then he's light years ahead.
(light years ahead)
Quiet diners already feel
like memory--
or it happened and I forgot,
turned a blind eye to it.
Memory can't come into play
'cause it always wins,
so I proudly bear present
grudges I got for him.
The world went to his head
from bad planet placement.
He might take himself lightly,
but I never did.
And if an old star can die,
then he's light years ahead.
And this night is nearly
dead.
Point to Pluto when things
have gone off too far.
Point to some sky sight
when conversation becomes too hard.
We're the saddest sight
I've ever seen
(if I were up above, looking
down on it).
He might take himself lightly,
but I never did.
And if an old star can die,
he's light years ahead.
This night's already dead.
The sky's gone to my head.
Conundrums of old, riddles of late
Are the price of admission at this old churchyard
gate
Don't have a solution, don't have a clue
The way you're falling to your knees, I'd say
neither do you
This is my mother's love, passed down from the
ages
Using a sundial to try and gauge this
Chorus
Let my mind run to that pseudo-southern run
I know I'm a northern girl, but I'll pretend I'm
a chosen one
I'm about as far from the Mason-Dixon as a gal
can be
Trying to figure out if this is real or memory
This setting, this place, we've been here before
Your father declared his love in front of that
churchyard door
Wiping away tears with pieces of vellum
All my possessions, hell, I think I should sell
'em
Home's a vague notion, been drinking your potion
Gravestones sipped some too and give way to motion
Chorus
Stone graves, a rusted gate, the smell of coal
Reminds me when I'm in your bed, never feeling
so alone
Once was a young girl, a daily invention,
Hands and knees now in the peat, beg for divine
intervention
But now for ages I've been stuck in the same--
Give you one guess at who is to blame
Bridge
This Irish air comes as a sign
To break this spell and leave you behind
Chorus
Lateness comes easy, time can get greedy
Just when I think you need me, I've gotta run
Answers I have not, gotta jet this gallery of
tombs,
Your father would follow me but you're locked
in your riddle room
Stayed in a land for the love of a man
Trying to fool myself as best as I can
Trying to fool myself as best as I can
Chorus
Some may ask, what you wearing those for?
But my most prized possession's my ability to
endure
Rubber souled shoes take me down any path I tread
weaving back home, use a shoelace for thread
Chorus
With my rubber soul…Rubber souled shoes
Bouncin' back from these autumnal blues
Scars on my knuckles for which I'm ashamed
Are they battle wounds or the road to fame?
If I curse the ceiling, call me a fake
If I sleep on the floor don't wake me
(I may dream of..)
Chorus
My rubber soul…Rubber souled shoes
I've worn them for years and they still look brank
spankin' new
With my rubber soul…Rubber souled shoes
I may have bit off more than I can chew
Waiting for this love that may never come
Unequal parts, a negative sum
If I brought it to the floor, would I bounce back
again?
Would your silence make thunder out of dropping
pins?
Chorus
Rubber soul…rubber souled shoes
Bouncin' back from these Phibsboro blues
Rubber souled shoes
My hands may be tied but my feet are gonna pull
through
Flip-flop cryptic take on a mystery
But rubber souled shoes are the key to resiliancy
Give me a jab to the chin, I'll look down at my
feet
Look back up again, and offer you my cheek
This is how to travel
Getting back on the saddle
Use those arms to paddle
And sail away in this saddle
Chorus
With my rubber soul…Rubber souled shoes
I'm a coward, a cheat and a thief, just to name
a few
With my rubber soul…Rubber souled shoes
My hands may be tied but my feet are gonna pull
through
Old woman walks by the liquor store and signs the
cross
I somehow feel guilty, but hell, it's her loss
Somewhere along the line, I fell in this hole
No matter, I'll fall back into my rubber soul
Chorus
With my rubber soul…Rubber souled shoes
Maybe they will help me lay off the booze
Rubber soul…Rubber souled shoes
At least I can count on one thing in my life to
be true
Cuz dear God I think I bit off more than I can
chew
My hands may be tied but my feet are gonna pull
through
Rubber soul….Rubber souled shoes
Rubber soul…Rubber souled shoes
Used to turn things into gold whene'er I knocked
on wood
Lately when I knock on wood it does me no damn
good
(it does me no damn good)
Irish blood turned back to red, no more bleeding
green
Ancestors can't help me now--Lucky number is thirteen
(lucky number is thirteen)
Used to be your four-leaf clover
No luck's left in me
Shamrock Days are long since over
Just left with your blarney
Made me thirsty for the pot of gold at the end
of a colored arch
But I've been waiting a long, long time and I'm
getting stinkin' parched
(I'm getting stinkin' parched)
Now it's just a neutral rainbow and babe, it's
getting me down
Crayola colors washed away just greys shaped like
a frown
(just greys shaped like a frown)
Since you bribed Lady Luck to turn her back on
me
Been black cats crossin' 'neath ladders I walk
in--
Don't make your wish on me
Seven years of this spell I'll take post-mirror
break
Now my luck runs so thin rabbit feet only ache
(rabbit feet only ache)
Used to be your four-leaf clover
No luck's left in me
Shamrock Days are long since over
Just left with your blarney
Don't make your wish on me
Just left with your blarney
A man
enters with a fake handlebar moustache and a camel hair coat
and
as half his 'stache unglues and falls slowly he admits it's a
faux.
He says this disguise should remind of me a road I once wrote
on:
a road that could've gone on and on, a road I couldn't break a
run
on, so instead I'd walk real slow. He says I walked like a china
cup
in a bull shop--on the brink of being broke, trying to break a
bull
code, walked as if already broken.
I said:
You must've slipped my mind.
My
brain won't trip on you this time.
You
must've slipped my mind.
A man
re-enters with a bottle in his hand and knee-deep in snow boots
and
says these props should ring a bell of when me and the snow fell
(I
tripped)--my hands slipped off my hips (the bottle dripped). Held
up
that bottle as proof. He says I thought I fucked things up when I
sipped
flat Pepsi from a Dixie Cup and I should've known I was doing
fine
but a Dixie cup needs red wine.
I said:
You must've slipped my mind.
You
ain't gonna ring a bell this time.
You
must've slipped my mind.
No one's
a shoe-in in this memory.
No
one's a shoe-in in my memory.
A man
re-re-enters with two rubber hands and says these should do the
trick--to
re-touch my mind, re-bang my brain, make my memory re-tick.
I say:
But the past is mine to pick.
The
past is mine to pick.
You
must've slipped my mind.
You
ain't gonna ring no bells this time.
You
must've slipped my--you're gonna slip my--you have slipped my
mind.
This should be simple, this should be easy
Maybe I'm just getting lazy
But I plan to cross the line
This beast is on your side
Simple twist of fate, maybe manipulate
On hind-legs I sit and wait
You gotta come on down
We'll both make this yelping sound
I've made our minds up
You must give up
The dogs will catch up
So, heel, roll over, my little pup
You've been the victim of hot pursuit
Memorized the footprints of your boot
Don't be afraid of the shadowed sleuth
She's just collecting her proof
You scared of the snarling in the dark,
The sound again of that asking bark?
Who could make such a sound?
Turn on the lights and look around
Chorus
Going out on a limb again
'til the wind kicks in, the branch has broke again
I was ready for this fall
Ready to hit another wall
Use this twig as a divining rod
Lead me to the watered-down place where you are
Dog-paddle back to land
My feet ain't moving from this sand
Chorus
There must be something to unleash
Your unfreeing wears us each
Chorus
I'm not losing track if you get off track, my army
protects your back
I'm never gone for long, your instincts are never
wrong
Soon the house will be stark and bare
The place where hot dogs surround you everywhere
I know full well that the house ain't mine
But the Stumpers let me stay an awful long time
There's much I'll miss after I leave
Toppers on that list is Loud/Dirty Steve
No more proposals on the porch
No more lamppost lassooing dorks
Chorus
Oh man, oh man, I'll miss those chumps
On that couch there's nary a lump
It's a no-brainer, it's not a stumper
Thanks to the fellas, a.k.a. the Stumpers
I've both journey to Cost Co. to get vast vats
of Windex
And been witness to Biker Dave in rockstar spandex
I've seen on the porch deals of drugs
And y'all have been privileged to see instrumental
"No Scrubs"
I got a new best friend, Creature, case I get in
a rut!
I played the role of Eyore getting creamed in
put-put!
The Valdez was my bureau!
The Stumpers are my heroes!
Puking up sangria instead of beer-os
Chorus
During my stay in the front yard sprung roses
I have watched VH1 from my head to my toe-ses
I hope I haven't been too much of a chore
Know what's funny? May potata, June Potata,
four!
This silly ol' song is just my way of saying thanks
Vacant couches will miss ol' Sibank
Don't fret you Stumpers I will keep in touch
But most of all I wanna thank you so damn much
chorus
If I dive, brains-first, in a doom-said pool, float
like a dead man, but hey, I'm not.
I mean, I'm teaching myself that breath is a tool
to wish on the breath left we've got.
Get outta the water, fear of floating down--
gotta run on some ground (run myself into ground).
See, cuz then I won't have time to walk and think
and look in pool mirrors and see I'm the weak link.
That might be an admission.
Ah, who am I kidding?
There is no tell-tale sign.
And if the fella's fading--Fine.
Maybe that's my tell-tale sign it's time.
Dripping, emerge, waxing moon up above but I use
a wax--dripping candle instead--
to be a "vandal", second-skin to some black gloves
but, hey, in this moonlight they kinda look red.
No crime, no sign, I cannot be trusted.
Shaking, shaken with defeat, I am so busted.
Can't flee fast with this crutch (I use time for
a crutch) and along with the red gloves, i know I push luck.
Well, I'll be damned!
I guess I'm damned.
There is no tell-tale sign.
And if the fella's fading--Fine.
Maybe that's my tell-tale sign it's time.
(time for...time for...time for...time for what? Sign for...sign for...)
Time hoists like a cruch or sticks down like a
shadow--either way, it's close. It's pretty damn close.
After dumb did me in, taking silences blows, I
still shush down, take this quiet I chose.
Trudge to the side of a wide highway where I make
a bright billboard read what I want.
This is what I think--well, what I wish--it would
say:
"THIS BOARD WILL NEVER HAVE ENOUGH FONT"
Alone, I wish on a billboard?
Something's not right with that.
There is no tell-tale sign.
And if the fella's fading--Fine.
Maybe that's my tell-tale sign it's time.
(time for...time for..time for...time for what?
sign for...sign for...sign for..sign for what? time for...time for...time
for...time what for? sign
for...sign for...sign for...sign what for?)
These Hearts Are Fragile Things
Not finished yet! Sorry!!!! I'm lame.
So-and-so Mary cannot leave her house today
Looks like she's had another fright
So-and-so Mary read the end is on its way
Kept saying, "what if they're right?
What if I can never leave?
Got no tricks left up my sleeve",
She folds into the night and cries her cry:
Chorus
"For a trick I will fall
One of me sighs and longs
For a trick you will fall
One of me's already gone"
Black hat to be a thug or hooligan of old
Running from the crime, from that time
Running to a hand that's ready to fold
Stealing a new start is fine
Lay my bluff on the table
Begin to be in a new fable
Titled "Poker Face Leaves Again"
Chorus
For a trick I will fall
One of me sighs and longs
For a trick you will fall
One of me's already gone
Maybe relying on surprises is yielding to some
lie
But you gotta rely on something, babe
Maybe I will stop my nomadic ways tonight
If you can convince me to stay
I'd be okay if I didn't leave
Got no tricks left up my right sleeve
But my left hand holds a black hat behind my back
Chorus
For a trick I will fall
One of me sighs and longs
For a trick you will fall
One of me's already gone
Outro
On the table lies downside-up cups
Underneath a said cup lies a ball
Pick the right such-and-such cup, you got me,
boy
Like everything else, it's nothing or all
It's nothing or all
I know I heard your battle cries under your saddened
skies--it's late.
Dontcha know I hear your battle cries under your
mixed moon skies today?
I will not feign battle cries I don't recognize
today.
Cantcha see your cries won't make me catch your
trench-bound train?
I think I'm getting worn.
i think I'm getting worn.
Fatigues that know the score...
i think I'm getting worn.
I know you'll memorize those battle cries I never
said.
Buck-shy with your short battle cries, your poker
voice gave you away.
I sense you see my covered eyes from the trench
across the way.
I could summarize the sound of your cries, but
a sum-up won't make me stay.
I think I'm getting worn.
I think I'm getting worn.
Fatigues that know the score...
I think I'm getting worn.
Won't change my mind about your cries, so don't
look up at the sky all day.
I pray you'll find some holy lie under your sacred
skies in May.
You said "these April skies make me cry", I said
"honey, it's already May."
You said "these skies are high and dry", I said,
"that's why I'm heading for
the bay".
I think I'm getting worn.
i think I'm getting worn.
Fatigues that know the score...
i think i'm getting worn I think I'm getting worn
I think i'm getting worn i
think I'm getting worn I think I'm getting worn
I think I'm getting worn I
think I'm getting worn