once
i was a little boy -and all i cared for was actin' coy -and in no time
found me a reason why -it's no better to lose than it is to lie. And
when i growed up i'd soon find out -aint nothin' in the world gonna
make
me doubt -all the fascinations come with a price. -all fascinations
come
with a price. -all the facinations come with a price. --sugar are you
gonna tell me the reason why.- baby tell why. tell me why. --trepid sin
the shape i'm in. -baby see the shape i'm in. -with out a doubt with
out
no lie. -baby cant you see evil is the shape i'm in. -actin' coy.
little
boy. -baby cant you see the noyve i'm in. -summer sun on the run. -got
no
time to act suprise. -i got no time to be satisfied. -all fascinations
come with a price. -come with a flair, under there. -facinations taste
the price. -baby wont come and hold my hand. -in a minutes time you'll
understand. -in an hours time we'll make romance. -i aint afraid to
take
a chance. -but you better know how it goes, -and know what is my
destination.-- sugar ma dont you holler loud -my neighbors pay good to
sleep real sound. -my neighbors pay to sleep good. -my neighbors lay
the
tracks for god. -jesus tell the girl to please, -please keep her moans
down to a sneeze. -last time i heard she runnin hot, --like coal on a
train in its big black belly. -my woman shake so good look like jellie.
-shake so good. shake so good -she shake so good i knew she would.-
take
my hand take a chance dont want my neighbors do a angry dance.
-upon my head upon my head --i live on the bottom -they dance angry on
my
head. -Wish that belly was'nt filled with lead.- filled with toy. aint
actin coy. -no longer am a little boy. -paid the price played the price
-for all the fascinations in my life.- i got it good i got it sweet
-aint
no one say i live on cream of wheat. --i like me some creme of sadie.
-she
sure knows how to be a lady. -creme of france dream of dance. -- i hope
they still on top when i count to three.- i hope they sit around the
grocery -so every one knows they the big cheese. -the grocery. the
grocery. -everybody knows who the big cheese. -aint playin coy go get
my
gun. on the run. drank the fun out of actin coy -now im not gonna be a
little boy. -im gonna say im gonna say, -"this place look better if you
would stay." -but what i mean is half the truth -but what i say is what
i
mean. -and half the time i dont mean a dog gone thing. -half the time
dont mean a thing -half the time you sound obscene. -all you perfume
stink alot. -it smells like you a flower pot. -with all the dirt and
all
the worms -and all the dogs rippin up, -all the roots and what not,
-rippin up your flower pot. --baby sit right here and think a spell
-about
all the ways we're going to hell. -think about the same ol thing -that
got us here in the poring rain. -i cant wait to go out to france -where
folks cant dance upon my head -cause i'll be on a big grassy lawn -with
sheep and grain and you and sun. -we'll make a way to jump inside -the
ocean deep the ocean deep. -the sea and land go on take my hand -go on
take a chance on a big black train around the bend. -come around my
friend baby come along. -train across the open sea. -sack right down
and
see the day -and please me now and forever lay -dont you want to roam
into an early grave -and make good time along the way.
idahow idahow
ida,how da fuck yo end up in idaho?
idahow idahow
Song: Be
Still
Date Written: March, 2005
Location of Recording: San Francisco,CA
Date of Recording: Dececember 2006
Inside the practice space there are mice and vermin and one climbed
into my guitar bag. and he smells. Not only do we have to put up with
greasy mice but the guy who calls himself a drummer in the other band
we share the practice space with puts a hole in Leopold and his
Fiction's drummer's kick drum head all the time. it makes it very very
hard to play anygood with a drum with a hole in its head. If you ever
tried you would know what i was talking about but since most of you
cant really play any music by any means besides the radio or on a fancy
headphone set, you may be unknowledgeable of how difficult this task
is. Not only is it difficult but it sounds like shit. If you want to
hear what is sounds like to have a drum that sounds like it supposed to
you can buy a famous rock album like Leopold and his Fiction's self
titled debut album and listen to what the drummers kick drum sounds
like. It sounds really good. If you want to hear a version of what a
kick drum with a hole in its head sounds like put your head underneath
a couch cushion and hit it with a sauce pan from your kitchen.
Its a Junkyard horizon, get with the fucking program.
I dreaded the mornings I
could awake to you and find the second reason I
have to breath.
you sent in letter addressed to my
house addressed to my name.
Let me be the wonder. only so lonely.
I
misused you for a second fate.
I misused you for a common drought.
I
understood you as a reason to supply a replenishing of my common name.
A reason to find a reason
Find your own reason.
i dont understand
why do you keep writing me letter on my comments instead of just
writing them the old fashion
way with paper and pencil and mailing it to my house where i can
see the postage stamp and
smell your breath from when you licked the stamp. and the back part of
the envelop that taste
like sick mintsticks. I would much rather see the way my cursive name
flutters at the movement of
the quills crappy inkstain. mutter. blanst. booek. tchstsh. rose
scented leafs of paper and
widom teeth trees. i remember when i was in grade school my mother
always bought me
the recycled paper. everyone else had processed gleaming white note
book paper with the three
ring holes inherent from the factory as they were to be placed directly
into a cool green or red binder.
my mom got me the stinky old recycled paper. that shit was like grey or
something. and instead
of a red line at the left side of the page, so you know that the page
is coming to an end there
was an invisible line. no lines nothings. half of my writing
would be on the desk i was writing on and
the times i would write it would get in the way the desks and then i
would haft to hide my ugly
recycled paper so none the girls would laugh and say hay nice paper
jerkface. So i would put
the paper away in those desks that had lift tops and i would write on
the lift top so as to proceed
in looking like i was doing somethings. the lift top desks i could fit
lunches for a few days
in them. they smell after like 2 days. apples and chips. apples and
pickles. i would get crackers
and chips and salami and tuna. and everyone else had good things. i had
ugly paper. they had
hot turkey and beans and mustard. carrot dip. who gives their kids
tuna. and pickles. jesus
christ Mom i have enough problems. for one im like eight.
1. i dont even know how to spell my name. 2. i have like no friends and
i play on the slide the whole time
of recess cause you dont even need friends for the slide. 3 my teachers
hate me cause there is a horrible odor
coming from my fliptop desks, and it smells hekka bad. 4. my teachers
hate me cause i turn in gray recycled
paper with nothing on it in place of where the assigned writing should
be. assigne. assignments.
you would think a mom would have some sympathy for a kid and give them
peanut buteer or something. i wasnt allowed to have a dog or play on
nintendo, which turned out to be benificial cause it gave me a lot of
time to think. i got to think of stones. and rice. i got to think about
running and burning things. i got caught and arrested when i was 9 for
vandalism. they didnt book me or nothing but i got to go to the jail
and they gave me a packet of prezel sticks and cheese. if i had a dog i
bet i wouldnt beat up a mailbox. if i have a nintendo to play i bet i
woulda one every game ever. i bet there are like a million cheat codes
in every day life. ok, well i look forward to hearning from you. i cant
wait for that letter bye
Instances ingrained,
Placate in dawn and a new Neptune.
Figure of spoken looks.
It’s a Junkyard horizon, get with the fucking program.
As A liaison for your lies she tells me things.
I’m supposed to translate them myself.
I have a pile of redeemable fiction.
when she was mad at me I would often hear her on the telephone
declaring how I would fuck her like she was oxygen. I never knew
exactly
what she meant by that. Was it she meant I thought she was an
effortless task?
Or perhaps I acted as if there were an unlimited supply when in
fact it was
coming to an end sooner than later. Maybe she meant I fucked her hard
like
she was weightless and transparent. Its difficult to know what she was
attempting to get across every time she mentioned I fucked her like she
was oxygen. Maybe because she is omnipotent. Maybe without fucking her
I would die. without fucking her there is no alternative to my
living, hence no
reason to exist. I fucked her like she was oxygen. The pressure of her
around me
was too great and in all reality I am futile in my attempts to please
her. I fucked
her like she was oxygen and still I would stay over long enough to cook
breakfast
all while over good conversation.
shine jaunt festive notation.
imagery. imagine the
fouders foundation.
cant stand locks bars or doors, obscenity or wars
i've got to find a place of peace
untill then my soul wont cease
i dont know where i'm bound
i dont know where i'm bound
we play both kinds of music. country and western.
they feed me on corn bread and peas.
don’t it matter down the
road. stop lights echo a quick name.
gallivant red. a consistent halo precedent with or without the
signals path hot or cold. plain dry eyes stare at midnight palms.
cascade and develop a Jupiter wind cycle. in disguise the
penchant nostalgia takes me slow. takes me deep,
in your bed a constant surrounding of light shadows my mane
onto the wall. and you a mile away hold a cardboard shape to
make a poor figure dance rich. we look like turtles in the sand.
we smell of shores and feathers. birds flushing the sands in
retreat from the surf. showers in the broad day light on the beach
in clear view of women and high school children, bantering
clerks of incestuous repetition. fuck the same, its all in the family.
see you next Wednesday. thank the morning. thank you morning.
out from the trail left in my sheets, in my bed, a reason for you.
a sound from you. winter moan. come on mama. shake the dawn.
guilt
none of the above or below is secretly non-fiction.
a rack to please the masses.
satin dove. poised. delicate. positioned. acoustic guitar.
something
heroic in the way an acoustic guitar is held. sometimes played.
something low
down
secretive. overtly expressive. genuine in exploiting a
vision.
presumably one of vagrancy. expensive loitering.