we sailed with the pilgrims

[[ a drinking song? no idea. it just came out this way. ]]

we sailed with the pilgrims

but not what you think 

for we were all pilgrims 

alone on the drink

we sailed with the pilgrims

but not how it sounds 

for we were all pilgrims 

lost in the rounds

looking for a home from the sea

looking for a sea that would carry us home

looking for daylight after the moonlight

looking for dark under the big starry dome

with the scouring sky hanging over

with the swallowing sea shore to shore

with the dread of the known close behind

with the dread of the unknown before

we sailed with the pilgrims

but none of us pure 

for we were all pilgrims 

in need of a cure

we sailed with the pilgrims

but none of us good 

for we were all pilgrims 

in need of a bed

You can know nothing

[[ This started from two episodes in Ryszard Kapuściński, The Shadow of the Sun, and his description of how there is little in the way of twilight in Africa -- it is light and then BANG it is dark, and then, twelve hours later, BANG, it is light again. But I have let something of the ambiguous and possible hints of the metaphysical or epistemological creep into it. ]]

You can know nothing

before and after.

On the way to Kumase,

our bus stops somewhere.

A woman gathers to herself her children.

She rests her bowl upon her head

and walks into the trees.

You can know nothing

before and after.

When the sun comes up,

there is no prelude to rising.

This is the old adventure.

On the Serengeti,

our truck has a flat.

Lions rest round shreds of antelope.

They watch us half an hour, then rise

and walk into the grass.

You can know nothing

before and after.

When the sun goes down,

it is gone.

This is the old adventure.

where to begin

[[ The destination might be almost anywhere, but I was thinking of Africa, our origin  It started while reading Ryszard Kapuściński, 'The Beginning: Collision, Ghana, 1958', in The Shadow of the Sun. I like the contrast between travel in the old days, when a traveler grew accustomed to the destination on the way there, to travel now, when you hop into a pressurized plane this morning and hop out of the plane on the other side of the world this evening. Also, the typical conflation of all countries and cultures on the African continent into the monolithic 'Africa' of Hollywood. ]]

not the romantic sort,

this is no port-to-port

idyllic expedition

there is no getting used to it, no getting used to it

this is the cheap flight

sleep upright overnight

no acclimatization

there is no getting used to it, no getting used to it

you're still breathing 

your own atmosphere

when they open the aircraft 

find your way through 

strange customs, the frontier,

before you feel the first draft  

and you're out 

in a street

in the heat

this is where we all began, where we all begin 

this is where we strip away and get down to skin  

let's take shade under this tree 

and --  listen to me -- let the continent 

drift slowly away

how many

languages,

cultures, and

kings here?

start by ad-

mitting you

don't know a

thing here

but 

welcome to here, 

welcome to here

one street in 

one city,

one nation 

traced out on 

a piece of earth

drifting slowly away

there is no getting used to it, no getting used to it

start by saying you don't know a thing

intentional love song 11: astronomical passenger

[[ a song about going no place fast but together ]]

astronomical passenger you

astronomical passenger me

tilted and whirling

one thousand

miles an hour

round this planet

round the equator

every day

astronomical passenger you

astronomical passenger me

tilted and whirling

sixty-seven thousand

miles an hour

round this sun

tilted and whirling

every year

tilted and whirling

tilted and whirling

springsummerautumnwinter

springsummerautumnwinter

springsummerautumnwinter

spring

astronomical passenger you

astronomical passenger me

tilted and whirling

four hundred ninety thousand

miles an hour

round this galaxy

until we are gone

until miles and hours are gone

home by night

[[ A pretty regular song about lovers, one driving home to the other because they can't wait to see each other, but maybe some minor ambiguity about lunar madness and whether the wolf is any potential unknown enemy of the two lovers, or the wolf is the lover racing to get the lover at home, or the wolf is the lover waiting at home in bed like the wolf waited for Red Riding Hood. What big ears you have! ]]

nothing more peaceful than 

home by night

sensible people are 

home by night

home before wolves 

stumble out of the wood

home before wolves 

tumble Red Riding Hood

Wait for me there

on the edge of the bed

I'm halfway there in my head

Put on some music, 

my favorite tune

I'm driving under the moon

picture you sitting there  

home by night

combing your shining hair

home by night

safe from the wolves 

roaming out of doors

safe from the wolves 

of the metaphors

Wait for me there

on the edge of the bed

I'm halfway there in my head

Put on some music, 

my favorite tune

I'm driving under the moon

space is for robots

[[ it's... ok, it's a song sung by the robots to the humans as the robots leave Earth and humanity behind forever ]]

================================
[[space section]]

This is a song about space, space and robots.
First, let us sing about space.

space is a distance, a darkness, a nothing,
much more a time than a place

space is the years between here, here and somewhere,
here and your next human breath

space is forever and airless and soundless
how is that different from death?

================================
[[robots section]]

space is for robots
robots don't eat, don't shit,
don't drink, don't breathe,
robots
don't sleep... don't sleep... don't sleep... don't sleep... don't sleep... don't

|: don't die of boredom :|  x 10000000 (in an endless fugue)

robots don't ask "are we there? are we there yet?"
robots know: we're always here
robots don't care if they never see home again
robots have never known fear

robots are made for alone and forever
robots can wait for the light
robots can sleep until morning when morning
is when the next star is in sight

================================
[[ farewell to people section ]]

A song about robots and space, never people;
people cost more than they're worth.
And just when you think you've had
more than enough of them,
people give birth.

People insist on that breathing and drinking,
on setting thermometers just so
People can stay at home fighting and stinking
Robots have miles to go.

No air to breathe where we're going to, human.
Stay home and tend to your flock.
Stay home and think of us racing towards light speed
Stay home and unwind the clock.

================================ 

ring of stones

at the... 

end of the 

actual 

day

when the... 

moon pushes 

through the 

sky

we fold 

our bones

round a ring 

of stones

and talk 

across 

a fire

we talk 

across 

a fire

we wonder how - we will get through the snow

we wonder how - we will carry this load

we wonder how - we will build a new home

we wonder how - we will follow this road

oh, go on

we go on

we can do 

nothing else 

but go on

oh, go on

we go on

and we sing

while we walk

a walking song 

till the... 

end of the 

actual 

day

when the... 

moon pushes 

through the 

sky

we fold 

our bones

round a ring 

of stones

and talk 

across 

a fire

remember how - we would lie in the grass

remember how - we would play by the shore

remember how - we would watch the day pass

remember how - we wanted nothing more


[[ nomads, refugees, wanderers  ]]

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

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. ]]

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

an experiment come down in a field

[[ A fairly true story from my childhood, when the Bell test pilots used to fly the x-22 over our county -- I really watched it -- and they eventually crashed one in a field behind a school friend's house. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bell_X-22 ]]

Many years later,

I tracked down a name,

a man named McAllister,

who said we were friends.

I no longer remember 

the days that we spent.

An experiment

come down

in a field

Out behind houses.

This we remember.

No longer ourselves,

but this we remember

An experiment

come down

in a field

A Mustang pulled up

to the edge of a field

with a mother and child

and a wreck in the field,

fallen from the sky,

and the grass on fire.

News crews take it in

and honest to god

government men

watch us watching them

and the thing from the sky

we now draw for our children.

When we were children

we used to watch it

flying over corn fields

flying over cows

He said I'd been to his birthday

We were best friends that year

I have no recollection, 

of childhood anymore

tell me more, Mr McAllister,

tell me who I used to be.

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. ]]