1. |
Life Star Eagle
01:18
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2. |
Heart Like a Muscle
02:18
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Gone the growing lands now,
a waker at dawn, a harvesting hand now,
and her song is the empty head,
the hollow gourd of the future dead.
And she won’t come back to this town
though the signs of progress abound
in the still life, the salted streets
the new skyline of the cemetery.
She wonders what it’s for, this holy war
for a heart like a muscle, a heart like a working wheel.
love, only love.
Maybe we could sit on the curb on Heroes Day,
the tiny Shriners observe as they file away.
Oh, the glories gone and the beauties drawn
from this troubled world.
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3. |
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Everyone knows this place is hypnosis.
They don’t want to go but the boots
are just following process.
The spine is a south bound train.
They gave you some slack. Now they’re taking it back.
In your Yo-Yo drama,
try to hold the fermata with feeling.
Oh baby I just can’t explain.
This is the pearl of the possible worlds
if you’d just believe what I say.
the paint may be peeling from the spinning ceiling
but you’re the rock now and you don’t have to go to Brooklyn.
Everyone knows it’s prime on the coast,
it’s wild in the streets, and you’re old
when you need it the most, child,
this little something for pain.
But it’s odd to regard yourself
the Gerard Manley Hopkins of hip hop.
I drop it for love, not profit.
Oh, baby nobody can explain.
You hate the feeling but someday the ceiling
won’t spin for you anymore.
Why, I remember my Ma saying if you’re already gone
then you won’t have to go to Brooklyn.
You are the pearl of the possible worlds
for as long as it spins at all.
Nobody’s leaving when we’re all still having a ball,
and you don’t have to go to Brooklyn.
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4. |
Happiness Now
04:15
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My Happiness has made a mess of all the secret codes.
My happiness has lost itself out wandering the roads.
My happiness is hard to guess. It starts with “two” and ends with “x”
and it thought you were the carrier of a beauty disruptive,
but I was drunk on your dancing eyes.
My happiness is more or less poetry or prose.
It spills around this college town with nowhere else to go.
My happiness is no disgrace: your sleepy eyes and your dumpling face,
and it thought you were the carrier of a beauty disruptive,
but I was drunk on your dancing eyes.
And it’s happy just to suppose
you have feverish dreams of your own.
You have crazy visions that you gather in close.
It’s all happiness now, whatever befalls.
My happiness just drives around. It thinks things and it writes them down.
My happiness makes do with less than what the dream foretold.
My happiness has tried its best but happiness was not impressed.
It said, I know this very place. I made a little there with myself
and you were kind, and nothing else. And I thought I saw something.
And it’s happy just to suppose
you have feverish dreams of your own.
You have crazy visions that you gather in close.
It’s all happiness now, whatever befalls.
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5. |
Gone to the Golden Love
05:40
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Thanks for the cash in hand and in pocket
and the stash of the family good will
and all the lovely places to crash here in town
and up on the hill.
Under your attitude of latitude
they say I grew so unnaturally,
from necessity free, free of want, free of will
free in every way.
Come take your pills, take your pulse
and watch your sons turn their open minds
to the science of love
in the service of the Golden Ones.
Every time that a brilliant light shines
in the dark of our barbarian minds,
a Golden One dies.
Everything that you made of me,
all my precious person-ality,
is gone to the Golden Love.
Oh my garden days, the easy ways,
the guardians down with the wolves at the gate.
You wouldn’t want to be late
to your own cremation. (Creation?)
I’m tuned to love,
tuned to the touch
of the holiest stations
and the forbidden springs of the ancients.
Come take your pills, take your pulse
and watch your sons turn their open minds
to the science of love
in the service of the Golden Ones.
Every time that a brilliant light shines
in the dark of our barbarian minds,
a Golden One dies.
Everything that you made of me,
all my precious person-ality,
is gone to the Golden Love.
If I waste away or I die in these streets,
I know you want say you don’t care
or wash your hands of me.
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6. |
Diluvia
04:49
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Would you want to be known to yourself
after the last of the light leaves your body?
Don’t know that you should: one leg is longer. Your liver’s on fire.
You’re so long at war with the dreams of your father (you wrote them all down).
Why would you choose to be known to yourself
after diluvia comes to remove you?
The waters take everything, came for the very thing
closest at hand, the quick from the man.
A memory can hardly such mercy withstand.
John had a dream or two he might not have shared with you
but nobody noticed the oath that he wrote in the sand.
John was a hypocrite. He said one thing, another did,
but no one was harmed, at least not very bad.
John used to educate. Now he’s in real estate,
emptied of offices. Lost his command.
No one remembers the shape of the man.
And some scribbled Greek at the edge of the beach
is all that remains of his hand.
Would you want to be always yourself or door number two?
Ocean to land, shingle and sand.
Spun into glass, breaks on the strand.
A memory can hardly such violence withstand.
No one remembers the shape of the man.
And some scribbled Greek at the edge of the beach
is all that remains of his hand.
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7. |
I Give Up
03:20
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I’m giving up giving up on you.
I’m giving up giving up on you.
I dream of you just because,
but I couldn’t break free ‘cause I already was.
I’m giving up giving up on you.
I saw you just the other day.
You know I could not look away.
I had to get some more of what I need.
And if you’re beautiful,
well, that’s not so very unusual.
There’s nothing you can do.
I’m giving up giving up on you.
I’m giving up giving up on you.
I want to be free, of course, like everybody,
and my hands aren’t tied but my fingers are crossed.
I’m giving up giving up on you.
Just be your very best each day.
Be kind to others, baby. Be the change.
Listen to your heart but run it with your brains, your pretty brains.
And if you think of me,
well, let’s just hope it’s a passing thing.
There’s nothing I can do.
And if I love you , girl,
what business is that of yours?
I’m giving up giving up on you.
I’m giving up giving up on you.
I dream of you just because,
but I couldn’t break free ‘cause I already was.
I’m giving up giving up on you.
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8. |
Late Victorian
05:25
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I gotta go now and leave you to rest.
The families formally wish you the best.
If a dream were required, they'd have you for mine
but you're just too dangerous.
Diamonds we made out of glass and a crash
are still stuck in the grate like an age that won't pass.
You know I require daily reminders
of the summer we rode around
So I won't forget the day I let
the olives of your eyes inside
the hungry void of mine.
I ride by the place you live now.
It’s a castle on a hill.
And I know that it might seem just a like
A dream you'd dream but still.
Now, I really wonder if the kids might've been
more than dreamers within
A late, late, late Victorian.
I gotta go now and try half my best,
lay claim to the name of a modest success.
You're dark and you're strange, enamored of pain,
but I love you anyway.
I ride by the place you live now,
In the old ward on the hill.
And I know that it might seem just a like
A dream you'd dream but still.
Now, I really wonder if the kids might've been
more than dreamers within
A late, late, late Victorian.
And I won't forget the day I let
the olives of your eyes inside
the hungry void of mine.
They said you steered me wrong.
I guess you probably did.
Before the summer is gone,
come steer me wrong again.
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9. |
Stay Sunny
05:10
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Shoulda written down some goals.
Coulda spent a term abroad.
Coulda filled a couple holes.
Shoulda kept a careful log
and went where the action,
went where the action was traded for hours.
Maybe shoulda thought things through.
Maybe shoulda taken store.
Maybe shoulda stayed in school.
Maybe shoulda stayed on course
and went where the money was,
went where the money was traded for hours.
You’re going to find the things you love in your life.
You’ll want to give them your best and your all.
But you won’t get what you want.
It’s in the book of Numbers, in the book of Laws.
Shoulda let the greyhound run,
poached on a baron’s lawn.
Shoulda left the gate undone.
Should done a few things wrong.
Shoulda learned another tongue
and went where the fire was traded for hours.
You’re going to find the things you love in your life.
You’ll want to give them your best and your all.
But you won’t get what you want.
It’s in the book of Numbers, in the book of Laws.
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10. |
Voice Lessons
04:27
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At the death of death, at the bed of ends,
at the time to tell, you'll explain yourself when they free your hands
and the ones you loved will understand
the jagged edges of the voice that you killed, that you killed within.
And each according to his dreaming is
And if they will forgive, it'll start with the kid,
so shy and tall as his talents bloomed and his heart stayed hid.
And his mother judged all his father did.
And the Order of the Book and the Gun made a man, made a man of him.
And each according to his dreaming is.
Dream on while the evening plays on the ceiling
and the shallows are warmer than the deep.
Did you get the feeling that your children were stealing
the flowers that make you sleep?
And each according to his dreaming is
And we will account, and we will attest,
our voices mount in your defense though it could be said
that you cheated most what loved you best,
They tamp the ground. The rains will come,
the names dissolve, and all the lost will be mourned as one.
And when it is sung, there's no one cares
how well it was sung.
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11. |
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Do you like the way you spend your days, or don't you now?
Have you ever stopped to count the ways there are to screw around?
Do you piss and moan because the freedom brings you down?
Or will you dryly drown?
Should I make a laundry list of things for tending to?
Should I curse the phone each time it rings for jumping in the queue?
Should I tell again about my luck and how it grew?
Oh I don't know what's going on in my head,
or is it in my heart instead?
his is where the arrows led.
And now I'm teaching children not to doubt
the thoughts inside their heads are burning brighter, brighter than before.
So we sit around and figure out whether we are capable of more.
If I wrote a book about my times or lack of them,
would you try to be the first in line? Would you like me then?
What if I explore the state of going home again?
Oh I don't know what's going on in my head.
Or is it in my heart instead?
This is where the arrows led.
And now I'm teaching children not to doubt
the thoughts inside their heads are burning brighter, brighter than before? So we sit around and figure out whether we are capable of more.
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12. |
Sweet Imagination No. 5
03:58
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Sweet Imagination. Why do you keep me so lazy and poor?
So no one will ask what’s become of me any more?
I won’t even dream now what could be now or what is in store.
If I can think it, it’s not what I’m looking for.
For the feeding and care of the little machines with hair,
the absent powers made empty hours to fill with food, water, and air.
What if nobody cares for your little machines with hair?
You’re the flowers of my wasted hours,
but it’s nothing that I wanted to share.
(Men they tell of in the scrolls
loved so hard inside their skulls
that mountains sprung from grassy knolls
but no one would ever know.
And all the sweet do-nothings,
and all the, quoth, nevermores:
no one who’s ever done nothing
has ever seen nothing done like this before.)
Watch the straightest number ones turn to the rolling zeroes of war.
If you can find it, it’s not what you’re looking for.
Sweet imagination, why did you make me so dull and obscure?
So no one will ask what’s become of me any more?
For the feeding and care of the little machines with hair,
the absent powers made empty hours to fill with food, water, and air.
What if nobody cares for your little machines with hair?
You’re the flowers of my wasted hours,
but it’s nothing that I wanted to share.
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13. |
A Waltz for Matt Coleman
08:27
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I call on you, man, on you who I see in these pictures.
I won’t meet you anywhere now.
The beard has gone gray but the eyes still deliver,
taken by ice, to be taken by fire.
You carried a cold shot of truth for my fevers.
I won’t find that anywhere now.
I know that you tired of my juvenile humors.
I might show you a difference if I could but see you old.
The old books that drew you to California
are the ones I am reading right now.
Overrun with drifters, the cults of the canyons:
oh, what would I know of such things, man?
You, stalker of coasts; you, steward of forests.
They say that is what you’d become.
I’d know for myself you still heard New York voices
in your long, quiet hours if I could but see you old.
Now fallen friend, help me call on my genius
to speak truth for once, like you threatened I would.
Show me your soul as the bullets went home.
Oh, I’d make it sound more like Tom Waits if I could.
And I’m calling on you who I met in the papers.
They finally caught you, of course,
at the sobering end of the long northern summer,
by the slow light of the failing source.
Some weather’s for weed, and some is for poppies,
and some you just have to wait out,
caught in the web of the inseparable powers,
like the force that through the green fuse fires the flower.
Said Matthew to Aaron, “I won’t see you in heaven.
We’ll meet up right here in this dirt.
I’ll go first now as you bleed me of my essence
and all it was thought to be worth.”
Said Matthew to Aaron, “Go chase your own ending
like you must once have chased some simple girl.
My people will pray I had no comprehension,
but I would not miss this, not for the world.”
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The Sweet Clementines New Paltz, New York
New Paltz, NY, eccentric rock band the Sweet Clementines continue to play a melodic, musically adventurous brand of smart guitar pop. With vibraphones and violins. They are: John Burdick, Jason Sarubbi, Marianne Tasick, Matt Senzatimore, and Paul Carroll. ... more
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