1. |
||||
Won't you take me to New England? I've been stuck in here
a long, long, long time--living quiet in this little room--
scared to walk around at dusk or dawn. Because my life
is a landfill with filth that covers every trace of my place,
and if you look around the carpeting, you can't hardly see a space.
But I love everything--yes, when I think about it, I love everything,
and I don't want to die.
At twenty-seven, I'm an old man. My hair is turning gray in strands--
thick, long bands. February is the darkest month I know, and one day
I won't even stand. She said my eyes were soft and pretty,
she said that they would even glow, were I to grow, but I don't think
that she would say that now--to her my eyes must be two coals.
But I love everything--yes, when I think about it, I love everything,
and I don't want to die.
When we get to Maine, I know that things might be the same,
but maybe not. To me, it seems the endless greens could do nothing
but fill my heart with songs and laughs, and I've seen the photographs.
I think the first thing when I get there, I'll drink a vat of Concord wine,
beneath the pines. Then I'll climb up every lighthouse to sit and watch
the foamy tide. We could tour all the orchards, and if I drown in
all the juice and seeds and stems, then I can declare a holiday,
and then I might sincerely say that I love everything--yes when I think
about it, I love everything, and I don't want to die.
|
||||
2. |
I Don't Love You
05:22
|
|||
It was a warm, summer night. I was hiding underneath the light
of any and all things. Little eyes with gold wings grabbed a hold
of my clothes, dragged them up to the sky and then, from its light,
you arose and proceeded to glow.
You leaned down and kissed my cheek; my face flushed like water
from the sink, and I could hardly speak. Still, you asked what I think.
I said I don't really know: it's not a difficult question, but who really knows how to place thoughts in rows?
And now I'm trying hard to convince myself that I don't love you,
but I do, and I know that we could have been true.
Yes, I know that we could have been true.
We agreed that love is an abstract--a notion that you can't lay flat
and stick up on a wall: sooner or later it falls. But you said,
"When it's good, let me tell you it's really good." I said, "It's never
been good." I still don't think it's been good for me.
I always mean to do something around the holidays--some special thing to capture sense of place, but the time slips away in its own unique way, and it never comes back. It just keeps going on and on, always circling the track, but never making a lap.
And now I'm trying hard to convince myself that I don't love you,
but I do, and I know that we could have been true.
Yes, I know that we could have been true.
But I'm not trying that hard, you see,
because it's so fun to dream.
Not really fun, it's a need--
a need to, need to dream.
And I know, yes I see that I haven't been tremendously concrete,
and there are many things, yes so many things that I can't
bear to name. I'm sure you've heard it before and think
that it's all the same, so I'd rather be plain.
And now I'm trying hard to convince myself that I don't love you,
but I do, and I know that we could have been true.
Yes, I know that we could have been true.
And now I'm trying hard to convince myself that I don't love you,
but I do, and I know that we could have been true.
Yes, I know that we could have been true.
Yes, I know, I know, I know, I know, I KNOW
that we could have been true.
|
||||
3. |
||||
I. “He said that the wager
meant more than the paper,
the handle of whiskey
and carton of smokes,”
Irene told me quietly
as she sat down beside me,
and I studied her face,
which was all but a bone.
“I wish you’da laid down;
when he put the cards
on the table, I knew
he would never let it go.
“He said come this winter,
you would just be a disinte-
grating head under fresh
layers of snow.
“And it all comes to this—
this moment, this tryst—
the relationship of objects
as they move to each other.
“And in their collision,
an endless incision
is made in the depths
of the sky, and in the earth.
“And I know, yes I know,
he’s a bad, bad man,
and his finger on a trigger
works as good as it ever did.
“But I love him so,
I cannot explain,
I’m like clouds and he’s rain,
and he fills me so full.
“And la di da, da di da,
la da di da da, la da di
da di, I will sing ‘til you die.”
La di da, da di da,
la da di da di, la da di
da di, I will sing ‘til you die.
II. “Well I ain’t seen my husband
this angry or wound-up
since his house burnt down
back in 1902.
“So you see, he’s been through things,
he’s seen things and heard things—
he’s not a blunt instrument
of chaos and rue.
“Or maybe he is,
but it don’t make no difference.
I wish I could change this
and see you come out of it
“happy and free—
I urge you to flee,
but you won’t, you’re my brother,
too close to my heart.
“And I wish I could save you—
put you up in a bottle
on a shelf far away
from this violence and greed.”
And then she stopped speaking,
started shaking, so I held her
‘til she slept, then crept out
to where I said I’d be.
And Clem came up slowly,
he looked at me coldly,
and I could tell he want more
than a carton of smokes.
“You scum, you ain’t with me!
I ain’t want no whiskey,
but a cup of your blood
in my hand as it flows!
“Aw yeah, yea-ee-aa-
ee-aa-ah, yea-ee-aa-ee-ah,
I will sing ‘til you die.”
La di da, da di da,
la da di da di, la da di
da di, I will sing ‘til you die.
|
||||
4. |
All Eyes on Me
05:59
|
|||
Fall came yesteryear, it's endless winter inside of me.
I can't see past my hands, all that's there is fear and symmetry.
Don't pretend--don't lie to me: you don't care, this isn't real.
You don't know me, so how could you help?
I don't want you looking in on me.
But you can kill me with your eyes,
then you'll be free to see all you can see:
all eyes on me.
You sit and carry on about this and that, and all things in between.
It makes me wonder if you even know a fucking thing.
You've strung me along and sat in bliss--now I'm taking over this.
You'll be sorry that you ever crossed me.
I don't want you looking in on me.
But you can kill me with your eyes,
then you'll be free to see all you can see:
all eyes on me.
All eyes on me, all eyes on me,
all eyes on me, all eyes on me,
all eyes on me, all eyes...
It doesn't matter if you really know your q's from p's.
I wouldn't trust you even if we bonded in synergy.
Maybe it's your beard, or the carpeting underneath your sink.
It could be anything, I just can't let you in.
I don't want you looking in on me.
But you can kill me with your eyes,
then you'll be free to see all you can see:
all eyes on me.
All eyes on me, all eyes on me,
all eyes on me, all eyes on me,
all eyes on me, all eyes on me,
all eyes on me, all eyes...
|
||||
5. |
Talk About Westerns
04:27
|
|||
I want to play at punk rock shows,
but I am just too square.
I want to talk about westerns,
in my underwear.
Leone's hiding in my closet,
Clint Eastwood's underneath my bed.
And all I can hear is this song in my head:
la di da di da da ah oh oh,
la di da di da uh oh oh (&c.)
Something is wrong with me,
because I just can't believe
anything they tell me
about living, about living, about living.
I want to play at punk rock shows,
but I am just too square.
I want to talk about westerns,
in my underwear.
Leone's hiding in my closet,
Clint Eastwood's underneath my bed.
And all I can hear is this song in my head:
la di da di da da ah oh oh,
la di da di da uh oh oh (&c.)
Yeah, something is wrong, all right,
because I can't sleep at night through my own wailing.
See, if I bark then one day I will bite,
stay away from me, stay from me, stay away!
I want to play at punk rock shows,
but I am just too square.
I want to talk about westerns,
in my underwear.
Leone's hiding in my closet,
Clint Eastwood's underneath my bed.
And all I can hear is this song in my head:
la di da di da da ah oh oh,
la di da di da uh oh oh (&c.)
Bang! Bang!
Bang! Bang!
BANG! BANG!
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
(bang! bang!)
|
||||
6. |
Evelyn
06:08
|
|||
Evelyn--
best get started before the night ends,
and I have to slip out your window,
and pretend that I was never in.
Evelyn--
how I need you more than oxygen,
how I long to hold you in my arms,
and I'm not worried about your husband.
Because he leaves you all alone
in that big, white house.
And he goes out and don't say where.
Maybe he just walks around
and thinks of things he's scared to tell you.
But someone's got to take his place.
Evelyn--
how I long to be your medicine,
you can keep me by your bed at night,
and take me with two cups of water.
Evelyn--
how I long to be more than a friend,
I am normally not a cheating man,
and I ain't saying what we're doing's right,
but I'm not worried about your husband.
'Cause he'll be fine, he's got looks,
he's got style, and he's got money!
He's got everything he needs
to make another one sweet, yeah.
I only have this guitar and a garden
apartment in the city! Girl, I need you
more than he, if that means a thing.
Evelyn--
how I need you more than oxygen,
I am normally not a cheating man,
but I'm worried about your husband.
No, I don't worry one bit, darling.
'Cause he'll be fine, he's got looks,
he's got style, and he's got money!
He's got everything he needs
to make another one sweet, yeah.
I only have this guitar and a garden
apartment in the city! Girl, I need you
more than he, if that means a thing.
'Cause he'll be fine, he's got looks,
he's got style, and he's got money!
He's got everything he needs
to make another one sweet, yeah.
I only have this guitar and a garden
apartment in the city! Girl, I need you,
yes I need you, yes I need you more than he (&c.)
If I could, if I could, I would give you everything,
if I could, I would give you everything!
Give you the moon, give you the sun,
give you my teeth and give you my tongue.
Give you the ground, give you the sky,
give you the whites up outta my eyes.
Give you the earth, give you the air,
give you every last inch of my hair!
Give you it all, give you it all,
give you everything, everything!
Give you the moon, give you the sun,
give you my teeth and give you my tongue.
Give you the ground, give you the sky,
give you the whites up outta my eyes.
Give you the earth, give you the air,
give you every last inch of my hair!
Give you it all, give you it all,
give you everything, everything,
everything,
Evelyn! Evelyn! Evelyn! Evelyn!
Evelyn! Evelyn! Evelyn! Evelyn!
Evelyn! Evelyn! Evelyn! Evelyn
Evelyn! Evelyn! EVELYN!
I would give you everything...
|
||||
7. |
17
03:59
|
|||
When I was seventeen...
I did so many thrilling, wondrous things.
I'll say a bit, but there's too much to name.
I climbed the Eiffel Tower in the rain
and slid back down again.
When I was seventeen, when I was seventeen...
I tied my leg up to a red balloon
and let it lift me almost to the moon.
I sailed so very high and far away
and slipped off into space.
When I was seventeen, when I was seventeen,
when I was seventeen, when I was seventeen....
I became a radioactive super-king
and saved the world from dire, heinous things.
I slayed a dozen dragons before bed
and rose up from the dead.
When I was seventeen, when I was seventeen,
when I was seventeen, when I was seventeen....
My current loneliness cannot contend
with the exuberance I felt back then.
When I was seventeen, when I was seventeen,
when I was seventeen, when I was seventeen....
|
||||
8. |
21
02:36
|
|||
Oh, how the time goes...
Oh, how the time goes...
When I was twenty-one, I found I suddenly bit my tongue
in times when I was once inclined to speak.
It quickly seemed that I was just an observer of grand
and cosmic movements—once a river, now invisible like steam.
But still, while I don't believe steam can change back into water,
it's what it once was—what it once was—well, that must count
for something. Oh, to be what I once was—God, if you can't
change me back to what I once was, please, don't let me die
this ugly thing that screams in streams and dreams of being
outside drinking daffodils with pretty girls with flowers in their hair
then decides that they don't care without the evidence—the evidence
is lack of incidents in which their attention was clear. I don't mean to say
I never loved—there was a woman—she was soft and she was pale,
and she took me in her arms inside her car outside a bar in a vacant parking lot.
She was married—guilt I carried 'til I learned that I was guilty by default
whether or not I had done anything wrong, so I learned to carry on
and not concern myself with that. So I just creep in corners while
the rest of the world sings—I am old enough to drink but hardly
old enough to think.
Still, there were days when I could hardly keep myself
from crying out that I was alive and was flying out
across the sea, so you see that it wasn't all bad,
no, I'd even say that half of it was good.
It was not misery.
|
||||
9. |
23
03:34
|
|||
Misery came at twenty-three,
a thin old thing with arms like string
hanging from telephone poles
and eyes like black holes
seeking to pull through.
It's time to face the ending, stand firm and show no bending
up to the bitter end—up to the very end.
Make me a shadow figure skeleton—just pull the trigger;
void all the higher skies under these dead, black eyes.
I can't feel my arms—I can't feel anything—
I can't feel and I can't think straight, now—
these thoughts keep piling on.
Never would I have thought
I have a weakness like this,
I have a temper like this,
I have an evil like this
inside of me.
Lay low and don't delay now, take it slow, but don't be late now;
swallow your crooked tongue, sting it until it's stung.
Make me a shadow figure skeleton—just pull the trigger;
void all the higher skies under these dead, black eyes.
I can't feel my legs—I can't feel anything—
I can't feel and I can't think straight, now—
these thoughts keep piling on.
|
||||
10. |
25
05:28
|
|||
Everything goes quiet, when you sit with it a little while.
When you're twenty-five, but you feel like you're seventy-nine.
All the world goes on, and you start to feel elastic like you're going to snap,
and it would feel better if you did.
I will buy you wine, fruits, or maple-flavored vegetables—whatever you like.
With wooden nickels I've collected in my room since I was a boy.
I don't have too much—no, I don't have much more to show at all,
but somehow you feel like it's more than enough.
I could make things right if you'd sit with me and listen to the light.
I could make things into something new, and bright, with electric hues,
and at its sight, you'd fall, and hold me like I was a little boy.
And you did just that, when I tripped and fell outside your flat,
we were arguing about something that didn't mean a thing at all.
You said you knew then that you loved me, since when I was just
about the ground, something moved inside of you.
I could make things right if you'd sit with me and listen to the light.
I could make things into something new, and bright, with electric hues,
and at its sight, you'd fall, and hold me like I was a little boy.
Still, there are times when I can outside
and find a bit of light, not so may,
but enough for me to say, as a final remark,
that it's not all bad, no, I'd even say
a third's almost okay. And I cannot
complain with that.
|
||||
11. |
27
03:37
|
|||
I will lay me, I will lay me underneath the cold, dead ground.
I will take me, I will take me higher than the moon that glows.
I will be there, I will be there out along the edge of town.
I will stay there, wishing, waiting, waiting for the end to come
now that I am twenty-seven.
Now that I am twenty-seven, now that I am twenty-seven...
And everything's bewildering, everything is new, everything is new,
and everything’s bewildering, bewildering, bewildering.
I will lay me, I will lay me underneath the cold, dead ground—in a glass box.
I will take me, I will take higher than the moon that glows—in the ceiling.
I will be there, I will be there out along the edge of town—by the freeway.
I will stay there, wishing, waiting, waiting for the end to come
now that I am twenty-seven.
Now that I am twenty-seven, now that I am twenty-seven,
now that I am twenty-seven, now that I am twenty-seven...
I will lay me, I will lay me underneath the cold, dead ground—in a glass box.
I will take me, I will take higher than the moon that glows—in the ceiling.
I will be there, I will be there out along the edge of town—by the freeway.
I will stay there, wishing, waiting, waiting for the end to come
now that I am twenty-seven.
|
Streaming and Download help
If you like Andy Jones, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp