listen to this record

 

listen to this record

her ghost is in the crackle

listen to her crackle

all up and down Chicago

listen to Chicago

the crackle of a record you've heard before

she ain't asking no one in particular

she is questioning the air

the crunch of thunder

the clarity of lightning

so we never forget

the old days 

when real men was

would listen to jazz

what it is 

what it is 

what it was 

stay up till dawn

then walk out of this place 

believing in ghosts

American ghosts outlasting 

their ramshackle castles

American ghosts out standing 

where their cities used to be

the place where a ball would be

[[ Is it a song about baseball? A song for two voices. ]]

as much as the next man  (I like America)

but don't expect me (to sing that song)

as much as the next man  (I like America)

but it is only (a baseball game)

but it is only (a baseball game)

people in bleachers (variant A and variant B)

people in bleachers (throwing out the first fuck)

he can throw a ball (the ball is not the ball)

he can see a ball (there is no physical ball)

he can hit a ball (the ball is not the ball)

he can catch a ball (there is no physical ball)

he can judge a ball (the ball is not the ball)

he can wear (a uniform uniform)

he can wear  (a hat and a glove)

he can wear  (a cup and a helmet)

he can wear  (a mask and pads)

he can wear (spikesssss)

he can swing (whoosh - stand and wait)

he can swing (and hold...)

he can swing (crack - run out)

he can swing (thump - run in)

he can swing (hey, batter, batter)

there is no physical ball (till it bathes in the Jersey mud)

the ball is not the ball (till it's wet from the sweat of his brow)

there is no physical ball (till the ball meets the bat)

there is the ideal ball (till the ball takes the air)

then there is air (by Jesus), then there is air

there is the air between (the ball and the bat)

there is the air between (the ball and the grass)

there is the air between (the ball and the glove)

there is the air between (each man alive)

there is the ball (between the sun and the man)

he can wear a grin (a wide commercial smile)

he can wear a mustache (he could hang a cap upon)

he can wear a beard (a person could get lost in)

he can wear nothing (but the face his mother gave him)

he can conspire (old men will share)

he can signal (will share a secret)

he can steal (but not until)

he can run (he can run)

he can be (far from home)

he can be (coming home)

he can be (sliiiiding. sliiiiiding)

he can be (safe. safe. safe.)

he can be back and (back and forth) forth

he (back and forth) can be back and forth

he can be back (back and forth) and forth

he can be (back and forth) back and forth

he can (out!)

there is no clock (the end will come for all of us when it will come)

there is no horizon (there is only the wall)

there is the wall (and there is over the wall)

no one goes home (until it's done)

the ball is not the ball (the ball is not the ball)

there is no physical ball (the ball is not the ball)

there is the ideal ball (the ball is not the ball)

there is the ideal mud (the ball is not the ball)

there is the air between (each man alive)

he throws it this way (it flies and it falls)

he throws it this way (it rises on the air)

he throws it this way (it curls to the left)

he throws it this way (it curls to the right)

he throws it this way (it's there before it's there)

as much as the next man  (I like America)

but don't expect me (to sing that song)

as much as the next man  (I like America)

but it is only (a baseball game)

but it is only (a baseball game)

VIII

[[let's do it as a song lyric]]

VIII

American fighter pilots 

from the battleship states

flex a muscle for America

flex a muscle for God

pack 'em in tightly 

side by each with Jesus 

flex a muscle for America

flex a muscle for God

pack 'em in tightly 

shoulder to shoulder 

wind 'em up tight

and let 'em go

they shoot off 

spouting voodoo 

looking for the moon

they shoot a hole 

through the pure blue

inject themselves into space 

up where no up is, 

no down (won't stay down), 

out where no air is, 

no sound (so no sound)

Merry Xmas

according to scripture

according to script

sextant and star chart

slip around behind 

the man in the moon 

flex a muscle for America

flex a muscle for God

aim this can of man meat 

at that blue ornament

flex a muscle for America

flex a muscle for God

oid

[[ On the spectacle of people overdosing in their SUVs while the kids are strapped into car seats in the back. ]]

how did we end up 

dying of all things

dead in a car park

slumped in the front seat

kids in the back

wondering what on earth  

are we doing dying?

wondering how on earth  

we ended up dead?

there was my love

feeling all the love the love the love

in the world

there was my heart 

beating like my heart never beat before

then it stopped

the wind blowing through

The wind blowing through
this house is the same wind
east wind, east wind,
always blowing through.

The walls holding up
this house are the same
but it's been through some times
and the names have all changed

And the wind blowing through
this house is the same wind
east wind, east wind,
always blowing through.

The glass in these windows
has been in the street
shards in the garden
still under our feet

And the wind blowing through
this house is the same wind
east wind, east wind,
always blowing through.

hot war
cold war
you hear the drumming
hot war
cold war
a different war coming

don't look away

they can't walk away?

you can't look away.

they can't walk away?

you can't look away.

you standing there?

get that phone in the air  

don't give it up ..

don't be scared ...

don't give it up ...

catch every word ...

rumble the numbers

from all of those badges

record the order

of all of those punches

man can't walk away?

you can't look away.

don't look away

but don't talk ...

to the cops ...

and don't look away

don't talk ...

to the cops ...

and don't look away

Drone Pilot Blues

Woke up this morning

To the sound of a slamming door

My baby had left me

To fight another war

Wearing sneakers and jeans

Has a couple of screens

full of chat

She's the last earthly noise

in the ears of the boys

chewing khat

Woke up this evening

To the sound of her coming home

My baby's the captain

Of a killer drone.

When I ask how her day went

She has nothing to tell

When I ask what it's like

She just says, "Go to hell,

Go to hell."

Said "I might have shot a bad guy

Anyway, I called the shot."

Said "He might have done some bad things.

Or maybe not.

Maybe not."

Woke up this morning

To the sound of a slamming door

My baby had left me

To fight another war

Woke up this morning

Woke up this morning

Woke up this morning

[[ A song about the remote pilots, the remote trigger men and women who put someone in the crosshairs on their screen -- based on spy reports and on what they can see from the air -- and then fire on command. The uncertainty, the stress, the weird distance from the results. Commuting off to war in an office building and commuting home again at night. ]]

Pachinko

You're new around here.

Let's play the pachinko.

Have you seen the formations

rise up through the air?

Just look out the window

of this dirtbag saloon.

See nature's formations
rise up from the earth.

Now look the other way,

out past the pachinko,
just through the other window.

There. See those towers 

rise up through the air?

Remember those towers,

those pillars of light.

Look there tomorrow, 

those towers are gone.

But you're new around here.

Let's play the pachinko.

[[ Even I know only vaguely what this one is about. This is probably the framework for something larger. It's the opposition of nature and technology, or east and west, or indigenous and colonial, or Las Vegas and the desert, played out in a shitty bar set between the two. And there's a pachinko machine, which is something I have never actually seen. It is chance, fortune, noisy gaudy fate. The song and the universe are cleft in two by a pachinko machine. This could be anywhere two such forces clash. And the older, natural, indigenous force will win. According to the narrator. Don't worry, I'll come back and add rhymes and stuff to make it suitable for your weekly line dancing class. ]]

what will

America pretends
America exists,
but that America,
America, is gone.

Find a safe room,
American,
under the ground
All wireless coverage
will soon be down

Find a safe room,
and keep one
ear to the ground

listen to
the fall of empire,
autumn of atom,
the spirit leaving

listen to
the pressure leak,
the hissing as
the spirit escapes

this carnival balloon
deflating and settling

for what?
what will be?
what will be?

monsters at night

beware the ladies' tea on Sundays

beware the patrol car on the prowl

beware the crowd of good white people

beware the cowl beneath the scowl 

there are monsters at night

monsters stand round your bed

monsters in the daylight

monsters in the little things they said

beware the quota and the red line

beware the diminisher of dreams

beware the doubt beneath the surface

beware the is beneath the seems

beware the simple routine questioning 

beware the lineup at the fence

beware the cameras malfunctioning

beware the miraculous evidence 

what could a pale man do?

what could a pale man 

do but pack up?

pack up his oil and his towel?

off to a bright beach 

where I will bare my

chest to the wind and the sun

rub down my body

rub myself down

rub myself down on a towel

do you admire my polarized spectacles?

how do you like how my spectacles shine?

say how you like my dark gleaming spectacles.

this is the loveliest 

state of Connecticut 

If I had a pipe 

I would take out my pipe

I would take out my pipe and smoke it

god in LA

Push your cheek 

into hers 

and look off 

through this wall 

into distance

and cut.

Look at that nose --

who sculpted that?

There must be 

a god in LA.

There must be 

a god in LA.

Look at her close,

look at her close-up

close up. They have 

plucked every 

follicle clean 

from her skin.

Look at his cock.

He pretends to be
having this erection.

This erection

has him,

gets top billing.

Look at her legs

descend from wasp 

ancestors, swing 

down from her 

skirt, landing gear 

fixed, flaps down.

Look at her slap 

back on the blacktop,

flat on the tarmac,

asphalt, concrete, 

combustible.

Circle the engines and

spray her with foam

Oh, daddy.

little green men

[[ about the day aliens finally came, or foreign workers, or environmentalists ]]

We gave up beer

We gave up dope

We gave up God 

We gave up hope

We gave up cars

and parking space.

We walked, for Christ's 

sake, in disgrace.

I used to work there;

Turned a knob.

They took our factory,

job by job.

In walked Roberto

Out walked Bob

They took the factory

They took my knob

little green men

We didn't know 

what hit us

We didn't know 

a thing

We didn't see 

it coming

We didn't know 

a god damned thing

little green men

Right here in Jonestown,

In Grover's Mill,

In Roanoke, Virginia,

On Bunker Hill

waiting for America (start again)

Waiting for America

over the horizon

Waiting for America

to sink beneath the waves

and start again

and start again

Waiting for America

smoke over Phoenix? [[ too obvious allusion to the mythical bird? Eh. I'm keeping it.]]

Waiting for America

to burn to the ground

and start again

and start again

I can't remember 

the anthem of America

Do you remember 

the anthem of America?

It's just another 

song about another war

The war when someone burned 

the White House down

The war when someone ran

the president out of town

Escape from Washington 

burn the fucker down 

and start again

and start again

[[ An anti-anthem for America, and not a very good one. It needs lots of work. It's not supposed to be wishing things to fall apart, but just waiting for things to fall apart, because that's the way it looks like it's going. But I'll let Blogger be my backup in the meantime. ]]

Whisky, whores, and gold (fuck this town)

[[ is it a Broadway song or a country song or a folk song? ]] 

Why should a man 

dig potatoes 

all day 

in these fields,

when there's gold 

to be dug 

from the ground? 

Why should a man 

hitch his wagon 

to the neighbor's 

pale girl,

when he could swing

a new dancer 

each night?

Why should a man 

grind out his life

in these 

four square walls,

when he could ride 

a straight line

till he's gone?

Why should a man

spend his days

signing checks

in this town,

when he could go

give a mountain

his name?

[[ first the noble-sounding stuff... ]] 

Ride 

with the morning behind you

Ride 

with the night in your eyes

Die 

with the stars rolling over your bones, but

Live

under infinite skies

[[ ...but then cut to the truth ]]

Course there's gold and whores and whisky,

Whores and whisky and gold.
Wouldn't want a girl to miss me

Wouldn't be a man to be told

All I want is whores and whisky

Give me whisky and whores
And gold.

I'm going out west, 

Cause fuck this town.

I will strike a match

I will burn it down

Fuck the thirteen colonies

Right from Maine on down

Fuck every city 
to the Mississippi

But, most of all, 
fuck this town.

I can't say I'm not going to miss you

I can't say I won't look around

But I can't stay another damned minute

Or I swear I will burn this place down

This highway

1st gear:
This highway snakes
through dark and day
before heading to town.

Look in its eyes,
you forget your way,
where you were going.

2nd gear:

Some towns, this highway
runs right through and cuts them in half.

Some towns, this highway
abandons and leaves them to wither.

How would you rather die?
Split down the middle?
Or missed all together?

3rd gear:
This town, the highway
just rolled over smooth.

This town isn't even
a sign in the wilderness anymore.

This town, the highway
punched a hole through and let out all the air.

4th gear:

This town, it tunnels under
This town, it wraps around
It squeezes the last living breath right out of this town

2nd gear:

Some towns...

1st gear:

This highway snakes...

[[ instrumental up to... ]]

5th gear:

Check your mirror:
the highway you follow
follows you.

[[ New highways kill a town two ways -- they run right through it and take everything away, or they go around it so no one ever bothers driving through that town anymore. Either way, the town dies. ]]

car going nowhere

At the side of the road,
alone at the wheel
of a car going nowhere.

Hands at ten and two,
don't move a muscle,
in a car going nowhere.

Let you bleed
at the wheel
of a car going nowhere.

A man in the lights,
spinning reds, spinning blues,
in the glare of the whites.

We see a silhouette,
the back of his head,
from a dashboard camera.

At the side of the road,
alone at the wheel
of a car going nowhere.

[[ a single image -- a man at the wheel of his car. he's been pulled over, the hint is that he's black, and if he twitches the wrong way the cops will kill him. Or maybe he is already dead. ]]