in this land

in this land

the frost is climb higher

in this land

no time to build a fire

in this land

we shun the gift of sight

in this land

we are the ghost at night

in this land

we have a heart of ice

in this land

we eat the sacrifice

[[ call and response ]]

invisible forces

it's only a song

only a song

this earth is a ball 

holding together 

with nothing at all 

holding together 

but invisible forces

mysterious forces 

only this breath can  

hold off the dark 

keep us from death

hold off the dark 

only this blue breath of sky...

with invisible forces

mysterious forces 

a current running 

through the earth 

beneath our feet

hey, little boy

you have dirt

between your toes

and every time you fart

I know the way

the wind blows

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

the lifting night

The lifting night is leaving -

Birds begin.

Before the sun is up,

birds begin the day.

Before the moon is down,

birds begin the day.

= = = = =

This is where we all are

in this air between

our sun and moon and earth.

Inhaling and exhaling,

all exchanging

breath for breath for breath.

= = = = =

From tree to tree

a gathering of bird 

begins to dawn:

how once we preyed

and how we once

were preyed upon.

she will turn the moon around

one touch, she will turn your wine to vinegar
one touch, she will wither the crop in your field
one touch, she will tumble the fruit from your trees

a woman like her (a woman like her), she will turn the moon around
a woman like her (a woman like her), she will turn the moon around

one look, she will smoke the image in your mirror
one look, she will dull the edge of your razor
one look, she will crumble your iron and brass

a woman like her (a woman like her), she will turn the moon around
a woman like her (a woman like her), she will turn the moon around

do not let her
draw the water
from your well

she will drive
the bees from your hive

a woman like her cannot cross a running stream
a woman like her will cause your horse to miscarry
a woman like her will drown your boat in a storm

a woman like her (a woman like her), she will turn the moon around
a woman like her (a woman like her), she will turn the moon around


[[ See the Golden Bough. http://www.bartleby.com/196/149.html ]]

Listen to women

= = = = = =
[male chorus]

Listen to woman
sing to herself
Listen to woman
sing to herself
Listen to woman
sing to herself

= = = = = =
[female chorus]

Listen to women
down at the river
washing away

Listen to women
down at the river
sing to themselves

All down the river
warm afternoons
women are washing
washing away

Listen to women
cry when they're happy
cry when they're angry
cry when they're sad

Listen to women
talking to women
embrace for hello and
embrace for goodbye

= = = = = =
[male chorus]

What's going on
in the mind of a woman?
How could one know?
How could one know?

Listen to women!
What are they asking?!
How could one know
the true mind of a woman?!

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? 

]]

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

little demon

[[ this could be a lullaby or a washing song or an exorcism ]]

little demon

in my child

get you gone and 

leave him mild

you must go and

he must stay

let him let go 

of today

little demon

stomp the floor

little demon

slam the door

little demon

fill his lungs

little demon

speak in tongues

little demon

foul the bed

little demon

wake the dead

little demon

in my child

get you gone and 

leave him mild

you must go and

he must stay

let him let go 

of today

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. ]]

a house afire

[[ Mystery in death. This is a song about death coming upon someone and how the rest of us can only gather around and watch it happen. Another version would be (will be?) gathering round to say goodbye at the docks when a ship sails. It depends on how one goes, on how disabling and silencing it is. ]]


She got on with death

like a house afire.

She felt the spark inside,

like a new connection,

It was warming, kindling, 

then it caught and poured

from chamber to chamber

until it was done.

She was silent 

looking out through her windows

at the night

She was silent 

looking back at us circled

looking in

Until it was done, 

all we could do 

was stand at a distance,

stand and admire.

She and death got on

like a house afire.

Parcheesi Variation

across the central square

a diagonal walk

from orange to black

from tile to tile to tile

from new moon to full moon

from full moon to sun

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. ]]

A Coin Toss

This 1943 Mercury dime

will circle our sun

to the end of our time

Ladies, a toast:

to the end of our time

...then I settled down

with a boy from a town,

a town crumbled into the sea...

there will never be another story

this is how all stories end

...that was the time

of the Mercury dime

round the far side of the sun...

there will never be another story

this is how all stories end

...out of the sun

came a man with a gun

whirling a circle of heat...

there will never be another story

this is how all stories end

...that was the day

that she melted away

fell off the edge of the world...

there will never be another story

this is how all stories end

This 1943 Mercury dime

will circle our sun

to the end of our time

Ladies, a toast:

to the end of our time

Circle the sun

to the end of our time

[[ It's intentionally disjointed. An astronaut has failed to settle something with a coin toss using an old shining silver Mercury dime that got away and is tumbling through space, glinting with each rotation. Well, that's part of the story. There is loss in the images, and a gunman. Three or four story lines hinted at. Only the images and emotions matter. ]]

the seclusion of girls

first sign of blood
the girl must run

the girl must not touch the ground
the girl must not feel the sun
the girl must not be seen by men

first sign of blood
the girl must run

she must run (run to the river)
she must hide (hide in the long grass)
she must run (run to the river)
she must hide (hide in the long grass)
the girl must run

first sign of blood
the girl must run

she must
live in the
house of the
heartless

she must
live in the
darkened
house

first sign of sun
this curs-ed girl
become a skeleton

first sign of blood
the girl must run

[[ This one is straight out of The Golden Bough. http://www.bartleby.com/196/149.html and today's news ]]

Bang

Bang.

Remember me?
I'm the girl next door

I'm the girl you want
I'm the girl you want to

Bang.

I'm a girl you used
I'm a girl you used to

Bang.

Know how it is
Know how it is

Know how it is

I was born dead, baby.
Or I died of disease
I was carried off by lions
Or I was left out to freeze

Bang.

I was raped at twelve
a mother at thirteen
I was bred again at fourteen
and a corpse at fifteen

Bang.

Know how it is
Know how it is

Know how it is

Or I was married off early
to some man from the town
I met him when I wed him.
They had to tie me down.

Bang.

Or I was sent to the kitchen,
or the cellar, the attic,
I was banged in them all
till I hanged myself out back

Bang.

Know how it is
Know how it is

Know how it is

I was sent to the factory,
or warehouse or workhouse
I ran off one night for
asylum in the whorehouse

Bang.

I was beaten to death
for my terrible crime
but not till the bastards
banged me one last time

Bang.

Know how it is
Know how it is

Know how it is

I am
the dust
you breathe in,
you breathe out
every day.

I am
your family
confession
written in
your DNA.

you don't know how it is
I hardly know
I hardly know myself

You don't know how it is
Know how it is
Know how it is

Know how it is

Bang.

[[ There is no coherent narrative intended. It's not about one girl, so details of the story differ. The girl in one line dies one way and dies another way in another line. It's a series of images. If it was a video, you'd see different scenes, different girls, different ages, different eras, different circumstances, but always girls being mistreated. "I'm Every Woman" being abused, married off, enslaved, beaten, raped, killed. Maybe that last bang is her putting a bullet in someone. ]]

you know the sound

you know the sound

a box of nostalgia 

dropped to the ground

at your feet

play a high hat
light shuffle
put an echo
on that seagull
give the guitar
a little tremolo

like your 

fat lower lip

but don't 

give up the ship 

is that lipstick?

is it yours?

don't tell me

you have let him

out of doors?

don't let him

out of your sight

into something 

the size of 

this summer night

turn all the 

lights down low

someone play on

a lonely piano

now if you cry

it will echo (echo)

like your

thoughts tonight

this won't 

ever be right 

is that lipstick?

is it yours?

don't tell me

you have let him

out of doors?

don't let him

out of your sight

into something 

the size of 

this summer night

you know the sound

a box of nostalgia 

dropped to the ground

at your feet

[[ I started it this evening as a sort of a joke exercise -- I heard some Eagles song, so I decided to write one of those 1980s Don Henley songs about suddenly being old and nostalgic and stuff -- but then it turned into its own song. You could do it with a straight face or not. ]]

Whose war was she in?

[[ From a memory of when I was very young in the 1960s and my mother had brought me with her into a social club. A drunken woman approached us to see this pale little boy. She said she liked my name and repeated it back to me in a low, drawn-out voice several times. Her face was scarred, seamed, pieced, I don't know from what. In those days, she could have been through either world war or through a windscreen made from the opposite of safety glass. ]]


Who is this tumbler reeling
towards us in the club?
I must be five and she a thousand.
I must be terrified and frozen.

Save me, ma, from
the fates at night.

Save me, ma, from
the bombs that fall.

Save me, ma, from
the patchwork face.

Save me, save us all,
ma, from us all.

Who is this woman with
a glass of something golden,
an orange cigarette smolder,
a face pieced back together
along the seams?

Save me, ma, from
the fates at night.

Save me, ma, from
the bombs that fall.

Save me, ma, from
the patchwork face.

Save me, save us all,
ma, from us all.

Whose war was she
in? Whose war?
Whose war was she?
No one left to ask.

into the wood

[[ it might be trance, drugs, meditation, dreams ]]

nothing else 

only this horse

only

only the horse

only

nothing but this horse

nothing

nothing but this horse

nothing

so saddle up

put on your hat

your hat

put on your hat

your hat

nothing but this horse

nothing

nothing but this horse

nothing

and then hold on

we are almost gone

into the wood

you feel so good 

you forget 

you feel so good 

you forget 

nothing but this horse

nothing

nothing but this horse

nothing

you forget 

you have ever 

wanted

you forget 

you have ever 

wanted food

you forget 

you have ever 

felt this

you forget 

you have ever 

felt this good

you forget

almost

to breathe

people say 

you're wasting

people say 

you waste away

people waste 

their days

saying things

when they could
go with you

into the wood

plasma

[[ solid>liquid>gas>plasma ]]

I go 

from state to state

(from state to state)

I look 

I look for you

(looking for you)

|: You  excite my atoms :|

I lose 

I lose my balance

(I lose my valence)

I fume 

then just as soon

I freeze

I'm stone

then in your hands

I liquefy

I tell myself it's just a phase 

transition

Tonight 

(I drive)

Tonight 

(I am driven)

Tonight 

(I am driving away the night)

Tonight 

(I may be back)

Tomorrow 

(for sure)

Tomorrow 

(at your door)

Tomorrow is at your door today

|: You are in the blood :|