skin me alive

skin me a live animal

what I want is to wear its camouflage
what I want is to wear its fur
what I want is to hear it screaming
while I purr

skin me a live animal

what I want is more juice in the vein
what I want is more smoke in the lung
what I want is to wear the animal
skin and fuck

skin me a live animal

take me to Vienna, you fool, and immediately
take me while a shop girl looks me in the eye
take me to the dead end of some other century
take me exactly to midnight, then leave me to die

[[ 

1. With obvious play on "skin me a live animal" and "skin me alive, animal". 

2. The narrator possibly is not a native speaker and may have fallen out of a time machine. She is louche, one-eyed, absinthed. 

3. I don't know why any of this. I think someone wants back to fin de siècle Vienna. Someone with a lust for blood and a lust for lust. And one clouded eye? 

]]

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. ]]