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

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 

Devil in the Detail

[[ A blues song about the actualities of figuratively selling your soul. The devil is an empty belly. ]]

There was a man selling whisky.

There was a man selling cigarettes.

There was a man selling fast cars.

There was a man handing out regrets, handing out regrets.

And what did I have?

I had these fingers.

I had this voice.

I had this guitar.

I had no choice.

There was a girl from across the roadway.

There was a woman in a dark saloon.

There was a woman consumed my heart

Under the moon, under the moon, under the moon.

And what did I have?

I had these fingers.

I had this voice.

I had this guitar.

I had no choice.

The devil is an empty belly.

The devil is sleeping on the floor.

The devil is working enough to get by.

The devil is being poor.

And what did I have?

I had these fingers.

I had this voice.

I had this guitar.

I had no choice.

There's a devil at the crossroads,
at every intersection,

when you leave home forever behind.

And if you find a Jesus,
if you ever find a Jesus,

you will find him in your bread and wine.

the day the spacemen came to town

[[ Perhaps despite surface appearances, this one is actually about the black civil rights movement in America. And refugees. Yeah. ]]

the day the spacemen
came to town
we shot them down
we shot them down

and up they sprang
to walk again
straight into town
to settle down

[[I'm not fumbling for words here - this stanza is purposely left spare, floating. It needs pause, space, room to wonder in musically.  ]]
their hair was like...
electric...
crackling...
in our afternoon

their skin was of
an unknown
color shifting in
the sun, the moon,

they looked and walked
and talked from far, [sic -- just because ]
they made an
unexpected sound

like something
half suspected
we could never
get our tongues around

And, oh, but they
were beautiful
space men and women
every one,

but not like us:
we shot them down
we shot them down
we shot them down

we hid them in
our shallow earth
(God damn our souls,
God damn our birth)

but up they sprang
to walk again
across the bridge
and into town.

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. ]]