I've been thinking about the things you do to me, the
ways you are and how they get through to me. I've been thinking
"oh no,gee, better
not come on strong. Then the feeling I'm without you gets
to feel so long. I've been blown down. I'm not made out of
bricks. C'mon, Charlene. I need fixin'!
I've been thinking maybe I'll just be your next friend and just hang out. I
don't need to be sex oriented. If you're feeling sleepy, don't you worry. I'll tuck you in bed and read you a
story. But the heart of the matter, what's a little less fictional
is: I'm broken, and I need fixin'.
Corner of Whiskey and Rhythm Road. I come here to
find me a friend. Momma box tinkle and whistle my way. Find me a letter to
send. Salvation stew and a bottle of wine. I sure could use a cup o caffeine. Tell me I’m sad and I’ll
tell you y’lie. I can’t think of a
better place to be.
(chorus) Hi-Fi, I’m a romantic fool. Ho-bo, I’m allright.
Back-rack slapjack and everything’s cool. No coluds.
Watchin’ stars tonight.
Sweet Stella waiting for John on the street, spread
the leg come on for cash. Walk on down some more “Hey Mr. Candyman, score a bit o your hash. Walk on by at the all
night deli, perfume and pain in the air. Evil Eye’s business is all his
own. Can’t say that I really care. (chorus)
No shoe Louie’s got the key of C. ‘lizabeth
cuddles with me. Engine Albert’s got the poo-muh-mow-mow
soothin’ the sorrow in deep. Priest’s are asleep and the cops don’t care. Shiney cars drive all around. Piss on a wall while I sing
an old tune. Think up some blessin’s to
Jennifer lives in room 304 shooting up heroin for the pain in her
heart. Keeps her supply up by standing on corners, trying to smile
pretty, leaning in cars.
(chorus:)She walks like a lily blowing through the alley way with her head
swaying sadly and gentle hair falls, walks like a leaf drifting through
a rainy day when the rain falls as soft as a tear in the hall.
Jennifer sits in the window for hours watching the sunset, plucking a
flower. Moon on her silhouette will not forget her. One by one dandilions swing through the air. (chorus)
Now all of you indians can wail your sorrow. All of
you cowboys can drown in your beer, all of you
hookers can stand on corners while the rain falls as gentle as Jennifer's
THE JESUS SONG
I don't want to give jesus any more press but I'm told that it's manly to hang
from a cross. My folks brought me up to take shit and work hard, then one day
you'll be dead, then you'll get your reward.
What I need from you, my son, is to scream when yo're
hurt and to shout when you're bleeding. The unnamed
thing that you feel is missing is the right you were cheated of when
it was stolen.
LULLABYE FOR 2
If I were a really good tailor I'd tailor make you something to wear. But
I am a fortune teller so let's turn on the radio and listen for the
If I was any good at shopping. I'd go out and buy you a really nice earring.
However, I happen to be a magician so lets whirl up a tempest and do some
If I was a lion of course I'd sit down and get ready to let out some roars.
Contrarily I am a mythical creature. I've got extraordinary wings and
If I was Cinderella I'd invariably hook up with some lucky fella. I am, incidentally, an ugly gorilla,
carrying an argyle umbrella, smoking a cigarilla.
I've been up all morning being seduced by women. I've been singing from
my heart until my head is swimming. I've been living on luck. I guess I
must have something like a genie in a bottle or a godmother's pumpkin,
(chorus:)but I still want you hereunder my skin. I want you there at
the endings I don't know where to begin. I want to read your
ingredients and get them under my tongue. I want to breathe your
atmosphere right here into my lung.
I've been refreshed by the warmth of an avocado sandwich. I've been
graced by the presence of an elegant pianist. I've been treated to the
pleasure of a well sung canzanetta. I've been
inspired to achieve heights that I haven't yet attempted. Ah, (chorus)
I love my sisters. Yes, I do. Thats
one thing that will always be true. Whenever I'm feeling down, man, listen: I
just pick up the phone and I call up my sisters. Whenever I'm feeling down
and just hurt, well, then I call my sisters.
Well, Maureen said "Man, you just gotta forget
her. Put her stuff in a crate and (woo) look at it later," & Eileen
said "Man, the way you've been dumped is the worst and now you gotta take care of yourself." After all you've been
through you could do better. I love my sisters. (chorus)
Well, Tina said "Man, Mike your beautiful," and Vicki said it too
and she said it cuter. And then (woo) did I feel better and glad that
it was finally over. "Hey Mike Why dontcha
come over." I love my sisters. (chorus)
ONE MORNING THE SUN
In the yellow schoolroom when we were children with the sandbox crushes
and the wild dirty dreamin’, where the girls
are so pretty when they come out to meetcha, and
the woo the soilfinder and they search the cute
evening. Then one morning the sun came down.
Under purple hats did the blossom roam through the crumbled street where her
starry eyes would find several slick pokadots along
a zoo and a shiny red pirate and a suitcase too.
Then one morning the sun came down.
THE PINK & BLUE.BOP
She's a china doll from the shopping mall in a
herd of bulls from the liquor store. She's got a pretty pink dress and a big
white smile and her hair's a mess boppin' on the
dance floor. Oh, Lois Lane, you cannot lose.
I got a pair of neat feet and a chug-a-lug-a-loo.
I'm a dirty Clark Kent from another
planet and I want to be your Superman.
(chorus:)Oh, won't you be my valentine, babe,
I got a heart on my sleeve and a bar of soap. Got an eye for an eye and
a tongue for the truth. We could be doing the pink and blue puberty
Come boppin to me my nuclear gal. There's a
revolution brewin' but aren't we all. I'm a
genuine product of the nuclear war and I know just what I was put her
for. Oh, Lois Lane, how red you
groove. I got pair of black glasses and a bubble of blue. I'm a grubby
little hobo in the heart of a storm and there you are boppin’
on the dance floor. (chorus)
Build another ballroom and paint the town again. She's a pokadot
helicopter in her bathroom with a fashionable ass and some magazines and a
story book mirror and a movie screen. Oh, Lois Lane, you're not
alone. I got candy floss stains on my telephone. You got neon lips in
the acid rain. You got eyes up from your ice cream cone. (chorus)
I took the boy to a pizza joint and fed him 3 pizzas
while he watched Dragon BallZ. I sat outside
in the rain reading a very interesting book on aesthetics, but one thing I
didn't do is think a thing about you
Last night I was intrigued by a bloom I've never seen before. Last week at
work it was my last day and I kissed the elevator. Right now at Value Village they got a whole
set of silver tipped silverware. Oh, yeah. One thing that I forgot to
remember was anything about you.
I'm in a place where I can just see the horizon is headed towards me. I'm in
a place where my fate penetrates the restraints that existed without any
The pizza cost $3.50, and the pizza man's named Leem, and he comes from Korea, and his daughter
plays the violin for the Vancouver Orchestra at the
age of 16. There are many people I know who bare absolutely no relation to
I'm an a place with a balcony where the horizon is
always changing. I'm in a place where my fate renovates the whole landscape
like a breeze. I know it sounds easy.
We glanced at the ballroom through kings and their brides, her eye through
dark lashes and careless hung hair. We danced to the blue muse and
intricately replaced the crude lighting with our own air.
drapes by a collarbone. Shin whitens deep in a trance. Braided black hair and
a crescent moon earring swing to the Ravenclad’s
We danced as the ballroom was burned to the ground. The careless shoe pollies had married their princes. The wallpaper fell as
the music continued and so did the Ravenclad’s
We danced through the forrest and over the river.
We danced with our spirit’s and eyes. She
danced like a wing setting free from embrace and she danced with the stars in
Charlene, Charlene, Why don't you lift your feet off the ground?(2) You're as light as a feather and you know you'll have
your wings to get you around.
I'm getting worried, Charlene, thinking about the pit. I'm certain that there
must be a heaven for me somewhere and I believe that you are it.
Charlene, Charlene, Looks like we're gonna have to
get you a red dress.(2)We're gonna
paint the town again. Good golly, we might even get arrested.
I’m getting worried, Charlene, thinking about the world. I'm
certain that I'd be a whole lot less worried if only you could be my
Charlene, Charlene, Looks like you're gonna have to
get your black boots on (2) Although you might not know it (but I think you
do) around here we're instigating a revolution.
Lit by red light, shining by rain on the lain of the cold or the frozen
skied night. Storm pounding ground, the worn crackt
'crete where feet slap rain, where the red light
warps. He finds in the side of his storm blurred eye silhoutte
of a short, white, bored shitless girl. High heels scrape scars across
concrete pores, forming swirly streams in pavement
puddles. Being black cloakt, he (cool) strolls over
to where she groans, whining in the tone of all girls that she could use a
match. He has one. So then darkness is broken by a swoop spark parkt at the end of her cigarette, crossing her
eyes. Focussed on flame, she's cute, and
bright by the light. She's pimpled and dimply. Her pretty pink dripping down
clown rogue made up eyes cry mascara.
Flame now flipped, lain like a cardboard boat in a puddle of rain. They
stroll through streets. Cute, rain swept, eye to eye, maybe bump. Maybe hands
touch slutty, maybe shy through streets of the red,
pouring rain painted evening. Silent, sly smiling, walking by windows, rows
of city scenery, an electric clock, closed hock shops, and a bustling all night beanery. Doors of a bar are swung wide
abruptly by singing idiot drunks, loud hookers, taxi cabs, a scumbag sells
crack to a scared punk. A bus speeds past and everything gets washed. They
walk through the city leftover from Saturday lovers, other bad days, some
good drunks and things forever lost.
Not far into the close kept mid city where he swings his arm across the open
door, while grinning she steps clandestinely in an atmosphere of green halls,
soft table cloths, and a wall of candlelit chandeliers in rows.
They sit cryptic surrounded by a rain dripped, melting window.
"So." Cigarettes are propped on rain drenched lips. They gulp down
wine. He asks her name and she singswith schoolgirl
eyes beneath her lids, becomes surprisingly, burgeoningly
womanly and burgundy,glowing
benignly and spring blossom kissed.
"Are you from the city?," and she is.
"...and you?" Yes, he is. Of cities they are made and are locked
They talk. As chatter patters between twinkling fires of elegant arms
fingering shiny wine glasses where flame play on rain ignites an eyelashes
flicker, lips purse, eyes search eyes and circle lids, finding the color of
eye, reaching the pupil's depth, and maybe sink in the pool of that red river's
breadth. Maybe sink in the pool of that red river’s breadth. Maybe sink
in the pool of that red river’s breadth.Maybe
deep in the drink of candlelight's death a red river swells, a moon dog diminishes,a hard rain descends
then a cool rain drizzles down a sweating wet window down a glistening
RUBBER BALL BLUES
It was so long ago that I first fell into you there was nothing at all,
nothing I could do. But again and again you appear in my brain with the
rumbling of dice, and the bounce of a rubber ball.
Well what can I do to hold onto you when holding on to me is more than I can do. When I reach up to grab you from a bottomless
fall well, you're already up with the bounce of a rubber ball.
O! Rubber, O! Rubber, I’m so in love around you but you love me and
hate me and love me. You do. When I call out to you from against the wall you
hit me right between the eyes with the bounce of a rubber ball.
On Seagull Street the summer girl
will drive you madly through the breeze and
all the lovers of the morning stay up for her ecstasies. A penny's toss
dismisses all the strangers lost within her eyes and
sweetens her with lips whistling the softest of surprises on Seagull Street.
In summer there's the kind of air that sets itself into your skin like
buttered toast or old shoes stomping puddles in the rain. And jam tarts
always sleep through the morning when its happening, but watching the
sunrise we discover how night's end on Seagull Street
Beggar's do the dance there, ever so carefully. Drunken in romance we 1-2-3,1-2-3.
Breeze upon the branches. Breakfast by the scenery. Gulls do there
scrounging gall around and up and down Seagull Street.
If you listen very closely you can almost hear the sea rolling just as the
summer girl seeps in your soul, And you want
to be the breeze that surrounds her. So alone. you
will follow the summer girl all around the cobblestone of Seagull Street.
Sunday is a coffee afternoon in silent centres
where the revolution rises beneath crispy winter air. Shadows stretch across
desire upon the dreaming of an eye where by an echo's careless call you can
The color's revel briefly like a jester's bacchanal or a Sunday sermon sober
for a mortal hangover. A dancer takes her place among the street's entangled
grace upon the gentle somber waltzing of it all.
Would you smoke a borrowed cigarette beneath a crucifix in a taxi where a
fallen angel sells you magic? If a monument were lain
before an endless morning plane would your mystery be satisfied by melancholy
Can you feel the spirit's passing through your ageless labored limbs? Did you
know the halls are lonesome but the spirits can get in.
With tomorrow to fear and all the yesterday's remaining still the halls
whisper time and again.
Won't you come home, Tracy? Won't you come
home? Won't you come to your house and listen for your phone?That’s the phone.
Your phone will be hummin', Tracy. Your phone will
be ringin'. ? I will walk across the street
to your house, just singin'. Whistling…
I’m out the door…I’m at the walk
light…Waiting…Oh, I can’t wait. I’m
jaywalking…I’m going up the stairs…Up to your door.
I will be a boy, Tracy. You can be a girl. You can take your shoes off
and we can see the world.
WALKING HOME SIDEWAYS is an
Did I see you just yesterday, running down the drain? Were you
crying or was that gleaming? Were you glistening? Just last night while you
were sleeping someone asked me your name. I was wondering if you could hear
me. Were you listening?
Ain't it hard to imagine? Ain't
it hard to explain? The kind of things that I'm feeling. The kinds of
things that I'm saying.
Yesterday while I was working I was trying to remain in a condition where I'd
be willing not to get onto a greyhound. Ain't it
funny how we could be here attempting to arrange the type of situation where
we could always go out and get an orange.
Ain't it a mystery? Ain't
it inane? Ain't it utterly heart wrenching? Ain't it sad and derranged?
Jut this week I've been arranging furniture instigating a change.
preparing for those inevitable days when we’re
momentarily aligned?but when I see you in the
distance I just have to give in. When you want to make love to a woman I
understand what you mean.