| (Some mumbling?) | |
| Pretty soon the hippies of today, will be the squares of tomorrow | |
| It was the echoing voices of the old ones | |
| Through thick steeled forests and over scorched earth | |
| Always just out of reach | |
| A herder of crows judged my every footstep | |
| My bones were frozen | |
| Penniless and entirely out of breath | |
| I washed my beautiful hands in the black market dog water trough | |
| But through it all the real stick in my spokes | |
| Was the torment of my dreams | |
| I fought of sleep with both fists and sometimes fire | |
| With no more then a blow gun I made from an exhausted pen | |
| I shot the stars out of the sky | |
| When each one fell sparkling to the ground | |
| I made wishes that never came true | |
| Apparitions of angels with angry eyes | |
| Appeared at each new moon | |
| My own ghost be gain whispering | |
| Trees died if I tried to climb them | |
| The decision was made for me | |
| To begin interpreting real life just as I would nightmares | |
| (More mumbling?) | |
| Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65 | |
| Watching an already dead world vanish | |
| We the banished and outlawed wander | |
| Hither and yonder | |
| Like dogs gone hungry | |
| Funky and angry and sometimes ugly | |
| Drums like drugs have turned us to scavengers | |
| Pathfinders, addicts and mathematicians | |
| Practicing is a black magic | |
| We make music from used up junk and bad luck dreams | |
| Liars and losers | |
| Emus and aardvarks | |
| Gypsies and pint thieves | |
| Peddlers, Card Sharks | |
| All of us fortune tellers home in the forest | |
| Hard core, building a cardboard fortress | |
| Fore ward fast and backwards blindfolded | |
| Trying to find gold buried in flood planes | |
| Covered in blood stains | |
| Fly bites and egg yolk | |
| Running away with one of my legs broke | |
| Sometimes it?s lonesome | |
| Traveling homeless | |
| Not knowing where you?re going | |
| Riding the railroads | |
| Pickups and sailboats | |
| Most of the loco-motives | |
| Once we decide to see some of the country side | |
| Working with circus | |
| Performers and cut-throats | |
| Discussions with perfectionists, perverts and poets | |
| Haven?t you ever heard of the? | |
| 1200 hoboes? | |
| We aren?t vampires dressed like rock stars | |
| We build campfires and ride box-cars | |
| Town to town, we just write songs | |
| And plus we stay up like all night long | |
| Cuz we aren?t vampires dressed like rock stars | |
| We build campfires and ride box-cars | |
| Town to town, we just write songs | |
| And plus we stay up like all night long | |
| 20 some years is a long walk | |
| Even if its not in a straight line | |
| You see a lot of things in the distance | |
| You know what they say about great minds | |
| You and I think about the same things | |
| Dream the same dreams | |
| Play the same games | |
| We started out in the same place | |
| Believe it or not we got the same names | |
| Everything happens for a good cause | |
| Whether it be victory or loss | |
| And the road may turn into a run way | |
| But you?ll know what to do someday | |
| Trust me I?ve seen it all before | |
| I?ve climbed to the tops of the tallest trees | |
| To get away from the deep water | |
| To feel the touch of the smallest breeze | |
| You?ll find a girl with a low voice | |
| Who holds the world in her bare hands | |
| You?ll fall in love you?ll have no choice | |
| Once you are given a fair chance | |
| For the first time you will sleep well | |
| Take a deep breath | |
| See the sun shine | |
| Hold on to her for dear life | |
| And then watch the whole world unwind | |
| Ask her to show you some magic | |
| And I guarantee that she will say yes | |
| Tell her you?ve seen forever and | |
| You?ll be together not a day less | |
| Just know until that time comes | |
| And after you cross that first mile | |
| That the hardest part is behind you | |
| And all the pain will be worthwhile | |
| (From storm clouds, Come angels, Let pain give you pleasure | |
| From dirt roads, to flowers, when faith can be measured | |
| From storm clouds, Come angels, Let pain give you pleasure | |
| From dirt roads, To Flowers, when faith can be measured. | |
| I know a man who was born with his heart on the outside | |
| Every mans worst fear he also had heavy hands | |
| He couldn?t touch his lovers face | |
| He couldn?t hold a baby | |
| He would never desert them | |
| But he was worried he would hurt them maybe | |
| Mad at the world his face turned hot pink | |
| The best he could do was just try to not think | |
| But he was to bothered | |
| So he would only try rarely | |
| He read the last page of every book in the library | |
| He lacked the charisma | |
| Of a true revolutionary crime fighter | |
| Would try to write but kept breaking his typewriter | |
| He preaches manifesto militant radical | |
| Was diligent but his greatest mistakes were gramatical | |
| If he only spent more time rehearsing and preparing | |
| There wouldn?t have to be so much cursing and swearing | |
| Eyes on fire | |
| His volume was blistering | |
| No one had taught him about the power of whispering | |
| He is dynamite | |
| Blows kisses | |
| Eats dirt | |
| His mouth of a volcano | |
| He is a t-shirt | |
| He stands on stilts | |
| But doesn?t stand for funny stuff | |
| Ask me | |
| He just hasn?t been around the sun enough | |
| He paints self-portraits | |
| With a roller | |
| Only eats corn | |
| And then tries to sell his own soul | |
| On a street corner | |
| He always remembers everyone?s numbers | |
| And sometimes cries into his own cumbersome hands | |
| (Scratching... Mixes?) | |
| Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind | |
| And lord knows I try to close my eyes | |
| But it happens so fast | |
| I keep my eye on the ball | |
| But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall | |
| And like | |
| Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind | |
| And lord knows I try to close my eyes | |
| But it happens so fast | |
| I keep my eye on the ball | |
| But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall | |
| Red beginning to end and measured sideways | |
| I?ve traveled the length of your desert highways | |
| Been under your bed | |
| And slept in ditches | |
| I saw your scars | |
| Was kept in stitches | |
| To keep from crying | |
| I?m trying not to pay attention | |
| But as I may have mentioned | |
| I?m being held hostage | |
| I?m lost and exhausted | |
| I want to go home now | |
| But I?m to far gone | |
| And I don?t even know how | |
| The silent knight and tarnished armor | |
| Charming and harmful | |
| The charma chameleon | |
| Might get violent | |
| Dancing with shadows | |
| And playing charades | |
| It?s the miscible plan | |
| Of the invisible man | |
| And what?s it like | |
| Living life | |
| You may ask | |
| Standing on the other side | |
| A two way glass | |
| Well it?s not what it?s cracked up to be | |
| I?ll tell you that much | |
| You can look | |
| But you can?t touch | |
| Like | |
| Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind | |
| And lord knows I try to close my eyes | |
| But it happens so fast | |
| I keep my eye on the ball | |
| But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall | |
| And like | |
| Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind | |
| And lord knows I try to close my eyes | |
| But it happens so fast | |
| I keep my eye on the ball | |
| But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall | |
| All I want to do | |
| Is go fly a kite | |
| Or take a hike | |
| And try and keep myself | |
| From taking a flying leap | |
| There?s ringing in my ears | |
| Especially at night | |
| Collidescopic visions of a cocaine cat fight | |
| People play parlor games | |
| Behind closed doors | |
| Secrets are sacred | |
| When nobody knows yours | |
| But somebody does | |
| You forgot about the bottom feeders | |
| The dirty rotten cheaters | |
| And all of us stock breeders | |
| Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind | |
| And lord knows I try to close my eyes | |
| But it happens so fast | |
| I keep my eye on the ball | |
| But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall | |
| And like | |
| Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind | |
| And lord knows I try to close my eyes | |
| But it happens so fast | |
| I keep my eye on the ball | |
| But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall |
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