hard-souled woman

[[ Soul or sole? The obvious ambiguity is intentional. It's a walking song about someone with hard shoes or hard feet (from walking) or a hard heart or any combination, but who can trust the persona? Maybe the "hard-souled woman" is bad, maybe the persona is bad, maybe both. Maybe she doesn't even know the persona exists or maybe they're married. Maybe the persona is a man or a woman: I like to imagine it being sung by a woman about a woman. ]]  

Hard-souled woman,

walking around my mind at night.

Hard-souled woman,

walking around my mind at night.

I know your sister

and your sister's all right,

But I've seen you walking 

and I've never seen a girl so tight.

Hard-souled woman,

out stepping in your best disguise.

Hard-souled woman,

out stepping in your best disguise.

I know your mama

and you've got your mama's eyes.

But I've seen you walking 

and you've got your own damn thighs.

You know you don't have to pay me one lick of attention.

You know you don't have to talk.

You know you don't have to stay for me one more damn second.

You know you know you know you know you can just walk.

Walking's what you're all about.
Walking's been good to you.

Hard-souled woman,

walking away.

Hard-souled woman,
walking away.

lapis lazuli

Do you remember

the twenty-first century?

When everyone splendid

would bathe in the nude

in a pool in the wood?

When everyone splendid

was splendidly good?

Do you remember

the twenty-first century?

When everyone's friend

siphoned gasoline nights

just to set it alight?

When everyone's friend

was so right?

Where are we now?

All of our years 

whirled away?

We have washed our hands clean

with a little gasoline 

and some noise

We have made our big play

only traded away

a few boys

We have sung the Afghanistan blues now in every saloon 

this side of the moon

in the nineteenth century

in the twentieth century

in the twenty-first century

in every saloon 

this side of the moon

we have sung the Afghanistan blues

Do you remember

the twenty-first century?

When everyone struggled

to nurture a bruise

to be shown on the news?

When everyone struggled

to cover the ruse?

Do you remember

the twenty-first century?

When the world was run

by a troop of baboons

under two rising moons?

When the world ended

one afternoon?

Where are we now?

All of our years 

whirled away?

We have washed our hands clean

with a little gasoline 

and some noise

We have made our big play

only traded away

a few boys

We have sung the Afghanistan blues now in every saloon 

this side of the moon

in the nineteenth century

in the twentieth century

in the twenty-first century

in every saloon 

this side of the moon

we have sung the Afghanistan blues

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. ]]

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.

cold

She caught a cold,

became a cancer.

Vitamin C 

was not the answer.

She didn't know.

She thought: a cold.

You wait it out,

you don't grow old.

She caught a cold,

a little sniff

(it was always cancer,

poor little stiff).

It comes upon you

from underneath,

gets a taste for you,

then bares its teeth.

It eats you up.

It scares you

down to the ground.

It rests awhile,

it breathes and

leans back to digest.

And then

it eats you alive.

She caught a cold,

She sipped a cold remedy,

But her boat was out

on a far bigger sea.

third rail talking

when you walk

underground

electric train

roars by so loud

your soft flesh  

and bones frail

when you walk

that dark tunnel

you cannot walk 

without peril

you will touch

the third rail

then it's the

third rail talking

it's the

third rail talking

from your mouth

third rail talking

touch the third rail

and the third rail

will loosen 

your tongue

will loosen 

all your tongues

that face 

you see in the dark?

swimming up 

out of the dark?

that voice 

you hear in the dark?

it's the

third rail talking

it's the

third rail talking

from your mouth

third rail talking

touch the third rail

and the third rail

will loosen 

your tongue

will loosen 

all your tongues

what god

What God has sent us

is not a pestilence or plague, 

is not the water rushing in like a wall.

What God has sent us

is not a pestilence or plague, 

is not the water rushing in like a wall.

What God has sent us

is nothing,

nothing at all.

What God has sent us

is not swarms of biting insects,

is not a plague of vile things that crawl.

What God has sent us

is not swarms of biting insects,

is not a plague of vile things that crawl.

What God has sent us

is nothing,

nothing at all.

Dear God. if you must,

even send us your agony,

take from us the first child we bare.

But dear God, have mercy,

if we share in your agony,  

make it a clear sign you are there.

What God has sent us

is not the worm in the garden,

is not the temptation and the fall.

What God has sent us

is not the worm in the garden, 

is not the temptation and the fall.

What God has sent us

is nothing,

nothing at all.

Dear God. if you must,

even send us your agony,

take from us the first child we bare.

But dear God, have mercy;

if we share in your agony,  

make it a clear sign you are there.

unwholesome man

[[ A hard-drinking wife-beating 'unwholesome' man is executed by the community but comes back as a zombie to have one last drink at the local saloon with his wife, then walks back to the cemetery. Yeah. Call and response. Maybe two singers alternating on most lines, maybe overlapping like an echo. ]]

unwholesome man

(unwholesome man)

he was a man would

(he was a man would)

take a fist to his woman

take a bottle to his bed

take a fist to his woman

take a bottle to his bed

take a fistful of dream

stick it all in his head

they said that man's an animal

they said put a man down

they said that man's an animal

they said put a man down

next day it fell on a Thursday  

next day sheriff put him in the ground

unwholesome man...

take a fist to his woman...

sheriff put him in the ground

that man he dug himself out again

that man stood under the moon

that man he dug himself out again

that man stood under the moon

that man could smell it was Friday

man walked to the local saloon

unwholesome man...

take a fist to his woman...

sheriff put him in the ground

dead man walked back to town

that man had a penny on his left eye 

that man had a penny on his right

that man had a penny on his left eye 

that man had a penny on his right

that man slid a penny to the barman  

bar man said you drink all night

unwholesome man...

take a fist to his woman...

sheriff put him in the ground

man walked back to town

man bought another round

that man stood next to his woman

woman said I've nothing to say 

that man stood next to his woman

woman said I've nothing to say 

that man knocked back his last whisky

said I'll see you on Judgment Day

unwholesome man...

take a fist to his woman...

sheriff put him in the ground

man walked back to town

man bought another round

never made another sound

walked back out of town

butcher house blues

Take me to the butcher house

Lay my head on the block

Take me to the butcher house

Lay my body down on the block

Off comes my head

and off comes my cock

out comes my asshole

like a lost sock.

Off comes my skin

to show my pink insides.

Just slip in the knife 

to see where the man resides.

||: Release my warm red blood - 

Begin the ancient flood :||

Stack up all the parts of me

limb by limb by limb.

Stack me back of the butcher's block

so I see me by him by him.

Take a saw to my cranium

And pop off the top 

Watch the steam from my brain

Rise thought by thought by thought

migrant blues

the country we grew up in

does not exist anymore

the country we grew up in

does not exist anymore

the home that we were born in - 

had strange men kicking at the door

we have seen the people vanish

we have seen the people die

we have seen the people vanish

we have seen the people die

we have nothing left to stay for

and the tide is rolling high  

one more for the boat, sir

one more for the sea,

one more for the boat, sir

one more for the sea,

one more for the wind, sir

one more 

for life 

in a new country

is there room for my child, sir?

is there room enough for me?

is there room for my child, sir?

is there room enough for me?

one more for the wind, sir

one more 

for life 

in a new country

Hold on to your children

Hold on to your skin

Hold on to your children

Hold on to your skin

For a fistful of money

Somebody will always take you in

We may die on the water

We may die in the dark

We may die on the water

We may die in the dark

Our graves may be the open sea

Or a truck in an empty car park

crawling blues

[[ this could be the myth of Robert Johnson's death -- see the notes at the bottom ]]

[Verse 1]
Take another man's wife
But leave his liquor on the shelf
Take another man's wife
But leave his liquor on the shelf
If he offers you a whisky
You best open that bottle yourself

[Verse 2]
Tip your hat to the stranger
Tip your hat to the foe
Tip your hat to the stranger
Tip your hat to the foe
Check the shape of his skull
See where those horns might grow

[Chorus]
Seen a grown man crawl
Craw-ling / on his / hands and / knees
Seen a grown man crawl
Craw-ling / on his / hands and / knees
He barked like a dog
And he died, he died like a disease/

[Verse 3]
Pour a sweet one for your baby
Pour a strong one for your host
Pour a sweet one for your baby
Pour a strong one for your host
Pour yourself a long, cool water
Or you may travel home a ghost

[all sorts of silly guitar things go here]

[Chorus]

[Verse 1]

[Coda]
Corn whisky make a man forget his own name
Corn whisky make a man forget his own shame
Corn whisky make a man forget the lies you tell
Corn whisky make a man forget he's in hell
etc.

[[ horned = devil + cuckold ]]

[[ Bring your own bottle, pour one out for your girl and your host -- trust neither ]]

[[

The song finishes with a stomping song about drinking whisky. Because why not?

There's a story (and I mean story) about how Robert Johnson died from drinking poisoned corn whisky given him by the husband of a woman he'd been flirting with:

http://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Robert_Johnson

Recollection survives that Johnson died after drinking whiskey poisoned with strychnine, allegedly given to him by the jealous husband of a lover. Fellow blues singer Sonny Boy Williamson II claimed to have been present the night of Johnson's poisoning. Williamson said that Johnson crawled on his hands and knees "howling and barking like a dog," later dying in Williamson's arms. Another, perhaps more credible, report was given by Johnson's temporary musical partner, David "Honeyboy" Edwards, who had teamed up with Johnson for a regular "gig" at the Three Forks juke joint near Greenwood, Mississipi. According to Edwards, the man who ran the juke joint became convinced that his wife had become involved with Johnson and determined to get rid of him. Johnson temporarily recovered from the initial poisoning, but soon died, on August 16, 1938, in Greenwood.

Could be true, could be totally made up. Everything is a story.

]] 

Five-and-Dime

Verse 1:
Here comes the river,
taking a new way,
way she never took before.
Old mother river
looks in my window.
Old mother pounding at my door.

Chorus:
There's a reason
(there is a reason)
put that cemetery on a hill.
This river
(old mother river)
she will never have her fill.

Verse 2:
Here comes the next town,
tumbling down river,
one lost shoe at a time.
One empty beer can,
one bent umbrella,
then the whole whirling five-and-dime.

I took a train

A1.
I took a train (she took a train)
because I could not stand a plane
(she took a train) I took a train
because I just refuse to use an automobile.

A2.
I took a train (she took a train)
the time and place, I am not sayin'
(she took a train) I took a train
I think I dreamed through Mississippi with Lucille.

A3.
I took a train (she took a train)
I do not think it has a name
(she took a train) I took a train
I cannot say this train is actually really real.

B1.
I took a train (she took a train)
To see America once again
To see America
eye to eye
one more day

C1.
There's no conductor on the train
No sacks of mail, just pouring rain
Washing the outside world away

C2.
How far we'll go, I could not say
This train is burning yesterday
This train is burning yesterday

B2.
Get a drink at the bar
And from the observation car
I see America
city by city
fade away

I see America
city by city [town by town, field by field, depending on how many times we've sung this thing]
fade away

etc.

[[

I hope the song works regardless of anything you know beforehand, but the plan is:

1. It's a train song, but a train on no real line. Lucille is and isn't B.B. King's guitar. This train got the disappeared railroad blues, which is why it's got no conductors or mail, and it's burning yesterday.

2. Maybe "he" or "she" makes little difference to the song (except for slight possible implications about Lucille), but it might be interesting to think of Gladys Knight (and the Pips singing "she...") in a duet with... Willie Nelson? Ha! Midnight Train to New Orleans. Or maybe this should be a Bonnie Raitt song.

2. The Pips are parenthetical (woo! woo!), as in https://genius.com/Gladys-knight-and-the-pips-midnight-train-to-georgia-lyrics  

This is not a script for a video, but if it were, imagine we picked up Willie and friends along the way, let him sing his piece (Cx) with or without Gladys as we take the train through middle America, drop him off, and then let Gladys and Co. have that drink (B2) as the train heads into the sunset and for the coast.

I don't know whether she's leaving America behind or America itself is fading away or both or whether it's all a simple bottle of nostalgia and silliness. If it was a video, they would be at the back of a train heading west, in an ornate observation car watching the setting sun shine on America before it heads over the Pacific... ]]

cloverleaf blues

When the devil comes to meet you,

you will walk the edge of the road,

When the devil comes to meet you,

you will walk the edge of the road,

Walk backwards with your thumb out,

look forward to laying down your load.

When the devil comes to meet you,

you'll be walking away from grief,

When the devil comes to meet you,

you'll be walking away from grief,

He won't meet you at the crossroads;

you'll be lost on the clover leaf.

When you go to meet the devil,

you will both be half way home,

When you go to meet the devil,

you will both be half way home,

When he opens the door of his automobile,

keep your eye on the chrome.

[[

cloverleaf as opposed to the crossroads, of course -- this is modernized and more confusing, and the cross has been twisted

the devil drives a Hupmobile

the chrome is gaud and distraction and wealth and a mirror -- watch yourself.

]]

branches in my pathway

[[ I like a straight blues form. This one is literal and allegorical. A real storm, but also the difficulties and decisions in life, and we have an appearance by Bede's sparrow. ]]

verse 1:
I've got branches in my pathway
I've got the wind in my face
I've got branches in my pathway
I've got the wind in my face
Pull one star from the night sky
Leave a darkness in its place

verse 2:
Wind is whistling down the chimney
Wind is whistling down the stair
Wind is whistling down the chimney
Wind is whistling down the stair
Leave a door waiting open
For a thought too hard to bear

middle:
Fly in at one door, sparrow,
Fly out the other

verse 3:
I've got branches in my pathway
I've got my face in the blast
I've got branches in my pathway
I've got my face in the blast
Leaving no trail behind me
And the horizon's coming fast