With mistletoe and candle green
To Halloween we go
Ten murdered oranges bled on board ship
Lends comedy to shame
The cattle graze bold uprightly
Seducing down the door
To saddle swords and meeting place
We have no place to go
Then wearily the footsteps worked
The hallelujah crowds
Too late but wait the long legged bait
Tripped uselessly around
Sebastopol Adrianapolis
The prayers of all combined
Take down the flags of ownership
The walls are falling down
A belt to hold
Columbus too, perimeters of nails
Perceived the Mamma's golden touch
Good neighbors were we all
Look at that old man with the broken shoes
He could tell you stories he knows how to lose
Look at that sweet thing packaged so tight
She does things her own way, knows the wrong from right
But there's one big difference now she does anything she wants
And every night is midnight as they come to take her through the door
Of suffering as it is her own way out no matter how she feels
Her day is
Can you see madame breaking all the rules
She does things her own way, she's nobody's fool
Yes, she finds things easier now she does everything she says
They climb up on her doorstep and rock around the clock tonight
And rock around again in spite of everything she'd done she is forgotten
Look at that young man with the tired eyes
He believes in magic, he believes in lies
Welcome home Macbeth
It's been a long long time
And everyone knows you're here
It's easy to see they care
Banquo's been and gone
He's seen it all before
He took it and then he did walk it
He shook it and then he did rock it
And you know it's true
You never saw things quite that way
She knew it all
And made you see things all her way
Somebody knows for sure
It's gotta be me or it's gotta be you
Come on along and tell me it's alright
It's alright by me
Alas for poor Macbeth
He found a shallow grave
But better than a painful death
And quicker than his dying breath
Words: Dylan Thomas
Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound
In the throat, burning and turning. All night afloat
On the silent sea we have heard the sound
That came from the wound wrapped in the salt sheet.
Under the mile off moon we trembled listening
To the sea sound flowing like blood from the loud wound
And when the salt sheet broke in a storm of singing
The voices of all the drowned swam on the wind.
Open a pathway through the slow sad sail,
Throw wide to the wind the gates of the wandering boat
For my voyage to begin to the end of my wound,
We heard the sea sound sing, we saw the salt sheet tell,
Lie still, sleep becalmed, hide the mouth in the throat,
Or we shall obey, and ride with you through the drowned.
Here it comes the count-down
It's gone gone, baby
Got my eyes wide open
Ever since I was crippled on Monday,
Got my eyeballs on my knees, a baby-walking
I rapped for hours with Mad Mary Williams,
She said she never understood a word from me because
I know she cares about me
I heard her call my name
I know she's long dead and gone
Still it ain't the same
When I woke up in the morning, mama
I heard her call my name
I know she's dead and long, long gone
I heard her call my name
And The I felt my mind split open
But us, like other angry whores
Discuss what steps were made before
You don't need them anymore
You know more than I know
You know more than I know
You know more than I know
Instead, we read the morning news
In bed - what endlessness ahead
And there's no more to be said
You know more than I know
You know more than I know
You know more than I know
The blind may see, but stay behind relief
Of all liability and greed
And there's nothing more you need
You know more than I know
You know more than I know
You know more than I know
No-one listens to it
They don't believe it
But it's the only way for me
You know more than I know
You know more than I know
You know more than I know
What crap, old chap, fills up the gap
We set like traps, like traps for us, the rats
And there's nothing more to catch
You know more than I know
You know more than I know
You know more than I know
Then bury me deep down among the weeds
That creep into the hearts of all the weak
And there's nothing oh so weak
You know more than I know
You know more than I know
You know more than I know
Words and music: Lou Reed & John Cale
Andy was a Catholic, the ethic ran through his bones
He lived alone with his mother, collecting gossip and toys
Every Sunday when he went to Church
He'd kneel in his pew and say, "It's just work,
all that matters is work."
He was a lot of things, what I remember most
He'd say, "I've got to bring home the bacon, someone's got to bring home the roast."
He'd get to the factory early
If you'd ask him he'd tell you straight out
It's just work, the most important thing is work
No matter what I did it never seemed enough
He said I was lazy, I said I was young
He said, "How many songs did you write?"
I'd written zero, I'd lied and said, "Ten."
"You won't be young forever
You should have written fifteen"
It's work, the most important thing is work
It's work, the most important thing is work
"You ought to make things big
People like it that way
And the songs with the dirty words - record them that way"
Andy liked to stir up trouble, he was funny that way
He said, "It's just work, all that matters is work"
Andy sat down to talk one day
He said decide what you want
Do you want to expand your parameters
Or play museums like some dilettante
I fired him on the spot, he got red and called me a rat
It was the worst word that he could think of
And I've never seen him like that
It's just work, I thought he said it's just work
Work, he said it's just work
Andy said a lot of things, I stored them all away in my head
Sometimes when I can't decide what I should do
I think what would Andy have said
He'd probably say you think too much
That's 'cause there's work that you don't want to do
It's work, the most important thing is work
Work, the most important thing is work
She was so afraid of everything she said
Since her mother told her why once upon a time
There was no rhyme
Before the clock slammed another door
Of the weary hours we were facing a second hand shylock
Shylocked in, in on us
I saw what it had taken
Playing back that old brigade of mine
Everything was dirty, everything was without rhyme
Everything was dirty, everything was without rhyme
Cause me and nigger marched
Yes, me and nigger blasted our way out
Of here just like yesterday
Yesterday's streets were burnt down into shells
Mothers weep while children sleep
Like ancestors in the ground
The misery of nuns lie together like sons
Who do not have the taste for the battle
We are shuffled like a pack of cards in the dead of night
Like lovers below Bataan, below the senses
Cause the senses smell of tears
While we and nigger marched
Blasted our way out of here
Close the door and let's have some private life
Who's in Charge? Who's in Charge? Who's in Charge? Who's in Charge?
Is it the Army? Is it the Money? Are you responsible? I'm not responsible. You wanna die now? Why not, it's a good day to die.
Who's in charge? Who's in charge? Who's in charge? Who's in charge? Who's in charge? Who's in charge?
It's not the Pope. It's not the President. It's not the Rabbi. It's not the Buddha. It's not the Natureman. It's not the Priest. It's not the Artists. It's not the Geniuses. It's not the Audience. It's not the Critics. Cain and Abel. Not Romulus and Remus.
Who's in Charge? Who's in Charge? Who's in Charge? Who's in Charge?
It's not the Doctors. It's not the Teachers. It's not the Detectives. It's not the Scientists. It's not the Socialists. It's not the Computer[ist]s. It's not the Teamsters. It's not the Comedians. It's the Outlaws. It's not the Artists. It's the Futurists. It's not the Dadaists. It's the Soloists. It's not the Audience. It's a Mountain. It's not Mohammed.
Who's in charge? Who's in charge? Who's in charge? Who's in charge? Who's in charge? Who's in charge? Who's in charge? Who's in charge?
White Light
Goin' messing up my mind
White Light
Don't you know it's gonna make me go blind?
White Heat
Iit tickles me down to my toes
White Light
Have mercy White Light have it goodness knows
White Light
White Light
Goin' messing up my brain
White Light
Oh, White Light
It's gonna drive me insane
White Heat
White Heat it tickles me down to my toes
White Light
Oh, White Light I said now, goodness knows, do it
White Light
Oh, I surely do love to watch that stuff drip itself in
White Light
Watch that side, watch that side
Don't you know gonna be dead and dried
White Heat
Yeah foxy mama watchin' me walking down the street
White Light
Come upside your head, gonna make a dead hang on your street
White Light
Movin" me between my brain
White Light
Gonna make you insane
White Heat
Oh, White Heat it tickles me down to my toes
White Light
Oh, White Light, I said now, goodness knows
White Light
Oh, White Light it lightens up my eyes
White Light
Don't you know it fills me up with surprise
White Heat
Oh, White Heat tickle me down to my toes
White Light
Oh, White Light, I'll tell you now, goodness knows, now work it
White Light
Oh, she surely do move speed
Watch that speed freak, watch that speed freak,
Yeah we're gonna go and make it every week
White Heat
Oh, Sputter mutter, everbody's gonna kill their mother
White Light
Here she comes, here she comes
Everybody get it, gonna make me run
Do it
Oh you think you got a gypsy smile
But it won't get you out of trouble this time
All you ever had is the memory
And the rose that you keep for company
Anyone could have cracked the code
Anybody could have cracked that code
So touch up your makeup
And save up all your pride
You once made everyone your lover
And I bet you felt just like a bride
While they were talking in some foreign tongue
You were parading around like a beggar in an iron lung
Cause something must be breaking your heart
Yes something is breaking your heart
That I loved like a vigilante lover
That I loved like a vigilante fool
The air was heavy over the village square
It's not everyday they auction off despair
There were voices floating in that country air
And secret policemen watching everywhere
Anyone could have cracked the code
Anyone could have cracked that code
I drive a stolen car
I got a monkey jar
That makes the blood run cold
And I see through windows
And I hear through walls
But nothing you can do can touch me at all
But I wouldn't feel so forlorn
There must be some saving grace
I hear the Rosy Christians have just hit town
And they're all heading for your place
Cause something is breaking your heart
Something is breaking your heart
I hope something is
I loved you like a vigilante lover
I loved you like a vigilante fool
Words and music: Lou Reed & John Cale
The trouble with a classicist he looks at a tree
That's all he sees, he paints a tree
The trouble with a classicist he looks at the sky
He doesn't ask why, he just paints a sky
The trouble with an impressionist, he looks at a log
And he doesn't know who he is, standing, staring, at this log
And surrealist memories are too amorphous and proud
While those downtown macho painters are just alcoholic
The trouble with impressionist is
The trouble with impressionist is
The trouble with personalities, they're too wrapped up in style
It's too personal, they're in love with their own guile
They're like illegal aliens trying to make a buck
They're driving gypsy cabs but they're thinking like a truck
The trouble with personalities is
The trouble with personalities is
I like the druggy downtown kids who spray paint walls and trains
I like their lack of training, their primitive technique
I think sometimes it hurts you when you stay too long in school
I think sometimes it hurts you when you're afraid to be called a fool
The trouble with classicists is
The trouble with classicists is
If you grow tired of the friends you make
In case you mean to say something else
Say they were the best of times you ever had
The best of times with the thoughtless kind
We dress conservatively at the best of times
Prefer the shadows to the bright lights in the eyes
Of the ones we love, the bright lights in the eyes of the ones we love
What we see, what we imagine the eyes tell us nothing
The bright lights in the eyes of the one we love will tell you
Nothing except that you're the thoughtless kind
If you grow tired of the friends you make
Never ever turn your back on them
Say they were the best of times you ever had
The best of times with the thoughtless kind
Words: Dylan Thomas
There was a saviour
Rarer than radium,
Commoner than water, crueler than truth;
Children kept from the sun
Assembled at his tongue
To hear the golden note turn in a groove,
Prisoners of wishes locked their eyes
In the jails and studies of his keyless smiles.
The voice of children says
From a lost wilderness
There was calm to be done in his safe unrest
When hindering man hurt
Man, animal or bird
We hid our fears in the murdering breath,
Silence, silence to do, when the earth grew loud,
In lairs and asylums of the tremendous shout.
There was glory to hear
In the churches of his tears,
Under his downy arm you sighed as he struck,
O you who could not cry
On to the ground when a man died
Put a tear for joy in the unearthly flood
And laid your cheek against a cloud-formed shell:
Now in the dark there is only yourself and myself.
Two proud, blacked brothers cry,
Winter-locked side by side,
To this inhospitable hollow year,
O we could not stir
One lean sigh when we heard
Greed on man beating near and fire neighbour
But wailed and nested in the sky-blue wall
Now break a giant tear for the little known fall.
For the drooping of homes,
That did not nurse our bones,
Brave deaths of only ones but never found,
Now see, alone in us,
Our own true strangers' dust
Ride through the doors of our unentered house.
Exiled in us we arouse the soft,
Unclenched, armless, silk and rough love that breaks all rocks.
Since the soul of Carmen Miranda had captured the mind of man
Dismissed with her generation for the price of a can-can
Consigned to the sideshows of history, with the patronized orphans of film
She seeded the bait and offered the faint hope of chance to innocent men
In love with the trance of her dances
And abandoned by them
And abandoned by them
She called in the boys
She remembered their names, and the sorry condition they came in
The dances were soiled, they spun and recoiled
From the master tapdancer inside them, beside them
The soul of Carmen Miranda had captured the mind of man
Dismissed with her generation for the price of a can-can
The soul of Carmen Miranda for the price of a can-can
The soul of Carmen Miranda for the price of a can-can
Your mailbox is always empty
And your landlord always complains
And you try to forget your past
But it's just adding to your pain
And it's time for one more cigarette
Yes, I slept on your satin pillows
They felt like a second skin
You needn't have looked so helpless there
I was the moth stuck on your pin
Sleeping, I am the sleeper
Sleeping, I am the sleeper
Oh it used to feel so right
Everything seemed new
I haven't changed
It isn't me that's what's wrong with you
Sleeping, I am the sleeper
The sun came up and you'd come back
The door was open wide
I should have slammed it in your face
I should have shot you in the back
That's what Jesus would have done
If Satan had come
And looked him in the eye and said
"You're my kind of guy, why don't you come away with me?
Come away with me"
Cause I love you, I love ya, I love ya - that's what she said
I love ya, love ya
I'd rather speak to Satan himself
I love you, I love you, I love you
I love you, I'm the sleeper
Very slowly he sipped his tea, not shifting his glance from the thick double spaced printing he read with his jeweller's eye
Engrossed in his corner, he passed onto the other inhabitants of the room a scrawled insularity of time and space
For both passed him by with the speed of light, not unlike the flow of substance, however varied, into that lysergic entity known as the black hole
He was hardly ugly for his time, and conversation was certainly not lost on him
Drastic measures were called for, and as in antiquity the lonely man was blessed with wisdom to the point of desperation
But there in his corner, developing around him like a sun, was a climate of such rare beauty that sight and sound could no longer be considered sufficient food for the senses
And he had begun to notice, as his hearing failed, that mind and matter were in no way connected to one other, as if in fact the one could not propose and prove its erotic existence in terms of the other
"What does this word mean?" he enquired of the solemn waiter hopefully
"Nothing for desert sir", came the reply, "perhaps a cocktail, demitasse or a herbal essence, it helps the breathing you know sometimes". "The bill, if you don't mind", quickly he shot back
And as the patter of the feet faded in the room, for he barely heard them now, his eye slowly began to close, and by the time he emerged on the sunny street he was forced to rely entirely on the other eye for help, but happily it continued its many functions, blinking gently for lubrication, and registering images
It was rush hour, in Hawaii only 10am
So, turning into his street, he stopped at the drug store and bought an eye patch that soon covered the reluctant eye
Climbing the stairs he pondered what to do next, he would call a doctor and have tests made, eat nourishing food and if necessary consent to surgery, the last resort of the gambling man
And at 1am he awoke from a dream and after fumbling his way in the obolescent light of his room he peered into the rusty veins of his mirror and lifted away the patch
What he saw astonished him. Where once was tremulous tissue and membrane was now a follicle and perfectly formed vagina with vulva, overgrown and mysterious, unrevealing and still to the untrained eye
But in the deep dark recesses of that sticky occlusion lay the unclosing watchful eye of disgust in its closing moments, lunging forward and hungry for the cold light of days
Before the end of the beginning, before the finish credits role, there is a brief but brutal truth along the high and mighty road. Faces tend to run together, names be lost and legends told, of the ways to be forgiven on that high and mighty road.
There is a will to test the power, there is the struggle for control of the basic rights of passage along the high and mighty road.
It is a journey for the taking, it is a choice that can be made.
It is the soul that may be shaken, it is the spirit to be sane.
There is hypocrisy and wonder, when fortunes pale and empires home to an ancient way of magic along a high and mighty road.
Money changers seeking payments for the priviledged to be so bold, to say the train is not too crowded for a high and mighty road.
And the courage may be tested, by judgement harsh and cold, from the monitors of progress along that high and mighty road.
There are the words that have been spoken, there is the life that's been portayed, it is a promise to be broken, it is the joy that dies in vain.
Pale treasure, fragile beauty, or the messages set in coal, we delivered as nostalgic on that high and mighty road.
Sacrifice and deprivation are spiteful paradoxes sold as begrudging restitutions along that high and mighty road.
And yet the faces, oh God the faces, they seldom change from young to old, they only seem to grow more brazen along the high and mighty road.
It is the future we are trading, it is the prices that we pay, it is the mind that is mistaken, it is the heart we give away.
Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit. It was now Mid-August which meant that he had been separated from Marsha for more than two months. Two months, and all he had to show was three dog-eared letters and two very expensive long distance phone calls. When school had ended and she'd returned to Wisconsin, and he to Locust, Pennsylvania. She had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity, she would date occasionally, but merely as amusement. She would remain faithfull.
But lately Waldo had begun to worry. He had trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams. He lay awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his pleated quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes. As he pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothing of some neanderthal, finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion. It was more than the human mind could bear.
Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him. Daytime fantasies of sexual abandon permeated his thoughts. And the thing was they wouldn't really understand how she really was. He, Waldo, alone, understood this. He had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her psyche. He had made her smile, and she needed him, and he wasn't there. (ahhh....)
The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers' Parade was scheduled to appear. He had just finished mowing and etching the Edelsons lawn for a dollar fifty and had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from Marsha. There was nothing more than a circular from the Amalgamated Aluminum Company of America inquiring into his zoning needs. At least they cared enough to write. It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in the mail.
Then it struck him, he didn't have enough money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion, true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly simple. He would ship himself parcel post special delivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarket to purchase the necessary equipment. He bought masking tape, a staple gun and a medium sized box, just right for a person of his built. He judged that with a minimum of jostling he could ride quite comfortably. A few airholes, some water, of course, midnight snacks and it would probably be as good as going tourist.
By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was packed and the post office had agreed to pick him up at three o'clock. He'd marked the package "Fragile", and as he sat curled up inside, resting the foam rubber cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried to picture the look of awe and happiness on Marshas face as she opened the door, saw the package, tipped the deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo finally there in person. She would kiss him, then, maybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought of this before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt himself barne up. He landed with a thud in a truck and then he was off.
Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It had been a very rough weekend. She had to remember not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about it though. After it was over he'd said that he still respected her and, after all, it was certainly the way of nature, and even though, no he didn't love her, he did feel an affection for her. And, after all, they were grown adults. Oh, what Billy could teach Waldo - but that seemed like years ago.
Sheila Klein, her very, very best friend walked in through the porch screen door and into the kitchen.
"Oh god, it's absolutely maudlin outside."
"I know what you mean, I feel all icky!" Marsha tightened her cotton robe with the silk outer edge. Sheila ran her finger over some salt grains on the kitchen table, licked her fingers and made a face.
"I'm supposed to take these salt pills," but she wrinkled her nose, "They make me feel like throwing up." Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an exercise she'd seen on television. "God, don't even talk about that." She got up from the table and went to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and blue vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better than steak." And attempted to touch her knees.
"I don't think I'll ever touch a daiquiri again." She gave up and sat down, this time nearer the table that supported the telephone. "Maybe Bill will call." she said to Sheila's glance. Sheila nibbled on a cuticle.
"After last night, I thought maybe you'd be through with him."
"I know what you mean, my God, he was like an octopus. Hands all over the place." She gestured, raising her arms upwards in defense. "The thing is after a while, you get tired of fighting with him, you know, and after all he didn't really do anything Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him, you know what I mean." She started to scratch.
Sheila was giggling with her hand over her mouth. "I'll tell you, I feel the same way, and even after a while," here she bend forward in a whisper, wanted to," and now she was laughing very loudly.
It was at this point that Mr. Jameison of the Clarence Darrow Post Office rang the door bell of the large colored stucco frame house. When Marsha Bronson opened the door, he helped her carry the package in. He had his yellow and green slips of paper signed and left with a fifteen cent tip that Marsha had gotten out of her mothers small beige pocketbook in the den.
"What do you think it is?" Sheila asked.
Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back. She stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in the middle of the living room: "I don't know."
Inside the package Waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the muffled voices. Sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down the center of the carton. "Why don't you look at the return address and see who it is from?"
Waldo felt his heart beating. He could feel the vibrating footsteps. It would be soon.
Marsha walked around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. "God, it's from Waldo."
"That schmuck!" said Sheila.
Waldo trembled with expectation.
"You might as well open it," said Sheila. Both of them tried to flip the stable flap.
"Ah," said Marsha groaning. "He must have nailed it shut." They tagged at the flap again. "My God, you need a power drill to get this thing opened." They pulled again. "You can't get a grip!" They both stood still, breathing heavily. "Why don't you get the scissors," said Sheila. Marsha ran into the kitchen, but all she could find was a little sewing scissors. Then she remembered that her father kept a collection of tools in the basement. She ran downstairs and when she came back, she had a large metal cutter in her hand. "This is the best I could find." She was out of breath. "Here, you do it. I'm gonna die." She sank into a large fluffy couch and exhaled noisily. Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the end of the cardboard, but the blade was too big and there was not enough room. "G-damn this thing!" she said feeling very exaspe- rated. Then, smiling "I got an idea." "What?" said Marsha. "Just watch," said Sheila touching her finger to her head.
Inside the package, Waldo was transfixed with excitement that he could hardly breathe. His skin felt prickly from the heat and he could feel his heart beating in his throat. It would be soon.
Sheila stood quite upright and walked around to the other side of the package. Then she sank down to her knees, grasped the cutter by both hands, took a deep breath and plunged the long blade through the middle of the package, through the middle of the masking tape, through the card-board through the cushioning and right through the center of Waldo Jeffers head, which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs of red to pulsate gently in the morning sun.
Old Taylor said
Old Taylor meant to cry -- oh my
Field Marshall meant
Field Marshall went away again
Watch out below; the tides
Lean heavily like wine
We are all innocent in spite of you and me
Then Martha went
Yes Martha went away again
Down in Transvaal
Where Crocodiles and men fight on
They would have played all night
Even with loaded dice
It's gold that eats the heart away and leaves
The bones -- to dry
Segovia watched
Gendarmerie and all that's all
The radio man
Amanda did you choose your tune
She walked away in time
She walked a crooked line
So gracefully she turned her head
And smiled -- away
Standing waiting for a man to show
Wide eyed one eye fixed on the door
This waiting's killing me, it's wearing me down
Day in day out, my feet are burning holes in the ground
Darkness warmer than a bedroom floor
Want someone to hold me close forever more
I'm a sleeping dog, but you can't tell
When I'm on the prowl you'ld better run like hell
You know it makes sense, don't even think about it
Life and death are just things you do when you're bored
Say fear's a man's best friend
You add it up it brings you down
Home is living like a man on the run
Trails leading nowhere, where to my son?
We're already dead, just not yet in the ground
Take my helping hand I'll show you around
You know it makes sense, don't even think about it
Life and death are just things you do when you're bored
Say fear's a man's best friend
You add it up it brings you down
The children are all leaving school today
Mama said, don't worry, I'll be back one day
The blue men in uniform smiled and waved goodbye
She was hiding those tears in her eyes
Roll up the history books, burn the chairs
Set fire to anything, set fire to the air
They're hiding [riding?] to begin and running at the end
'Cause mama said, you take your life in your hands
Taking your life, your life in your hands
But don't take your life in your hands like I did
I don't feel so bad, and always look forward with hope
Forward and hope that the children will always be there
Cancel the day, cancel the night
Cancel the day, cancel the night
'Cause who could be watching when she steals and runs away
Full of hysterical laughter, and say
Mama, mama
I've left school today
I hope I get to see you in that funny school far away
But those gentlemen in blue, and those in grey
Say I'll never, never see mama again
'Cause she took those lives in her hands
Yes, she took all those lives in her hands
Yes, she took all those lives in her hands
But let me wonder, what was there left in those hands?
Oh, you sentimental fool
Yes, you sentimental fool
Love, those broken veins
made you so afraid
of that wishful wishing well
Well now you're in misery and in pain
Well now you're in misery and in pain
So she broke your heart
And you let her die
Well that's your name and that's the game
'Cause they're taking it all away
They're taking it all away
They're taking it all away
'Cause they're taking it all away
They're taking it all away
They're taking it all away
They're taking it all away (repeat)
Words and music: Lou Reed & John Cale
You've got the money, I've got the time
You want your freedom, make your freedom mine
'Cause I've got the style it takes
and money is all that it takes
You've got connexions and I've got the art
You like my attention and I like your looks
and I have the style it takes and you know the people it takes
Why don't you sit right over there, we'll do a movie portrait
I'll turn the camera on and I won't even be there
A portrait that moves, you look great I think
I'll put the Empire State Building on your wall
For 24 hours glowing on your wall
Watch the sun rise above it in your room
Wallpaper art, a great view
I've got a Brillo box and I say it's art
It's the same one you can buy at any supermarket
'Cause I've got the style it takes
And you've got the people it takes
This is a rock group called The Velvet Underground
I show movies on them
Do you like their sound
'Cause they have a style that grates and I have art to make
Let's do a movie here next week
We don't have sound but you're so great
You don't have to speak
You've got the style it takes (kiss)
You've got the style it takes (eat)
I've got the style it takes (couch)
We've got the style it takes (kiss)
The Cowboy's Lament or Streets of Laredo (1876)
by Francis Henry Maynard
As I walked out in the streets of Laredo,
As I walked out in Laredo one day,
I spied a young cowboy wrapped up in white linen,
Wrapped up in white linen and cold as the clay.
"O beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly;
Play the Dead March as you carry me along.
Take me to the green valley and lay the sod o're me,
For I'm a young cowboy and I know I done wrong."
"I see by your outfit that your are a cowboy."
These words he did say as I boldly stepped by.
"Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story;
I'm shot in the breast and I know I must die."
"My friends and relations they live in the Nation:
They know not where their dear boy has gone.
I first came to Texas and hired to a ranchman,
O I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong."
"It was once in the saddle I used to go dashing:
It was once in the saddle I used to go gay.
First to the dram house and then to the card house,
Got shot in the breast and I'm dying today."
"Get six jolly cowboys to carry my coffin;
Get six pretty maidens to sing me a song.
Put bunches of roses all over my coffin,
Put roses to deaden the cods as they fall."
"Go gather around you a group of young cowboys,
And tell them the story of this my sad fate.
Tell one and the other before they go further,
To stop their wild roving before it's too late."
"Go bring me a cup, a cup of cold water
To cool my parched lips," the young cowboy said.
Before I returned the spirit had left him
And gone to its Maker--the cowboy was dead.
We beat the drum slowly and played the fife lowly,
And bitterly wept as we bore him along.
For awe all loved our comrade, so brave, young, and handsome,
We all loved our comrade although he'd done wrong.
Desparation sets the clock, buried treasure, call the shots, family jewels in the vault, sleep safe at any cost.
When the life begins to fade, snakes rattle in the cage, nasty creatures on the crawl, nothing dead as much at all.
Streets come alive after midnight.
Streets come alive after midnight.
Spot targets, pick and choose. Rage and pain are on the move. Fears, that's to play a part, sending daggers to the heart. Dream scenes, forgotten lives, nightmare noise and blinded eyes, crude smell and kerosene, broken glass and strangled dreams.
Streets come alive after midnight.
Streets come alive after midnight.
[Blocked/Splashed] up your burning nose, politics step on your toes, day-break will bring you back, bright lights will make you crack. Streets come alive after midnight. There are no guaranties after midnight. Eyes in the skies after midnight. Fire in the skies after midnight.
Words and music: Garland Jeffreys
Board boy, board boy, rolling down the road Board boy, board boy, what have you been told
Do you wear your jeans of blue?
Oh that way is paved with gold
Board boy, board boy what have you been sold
Yes boy, no boy, you don't have to use your head
It's alright boy, you can use your feet instead
You don't have to worry about the French emissary
You don't have to dread
Board boy, board boy, just listen to what I have said
You can ask my poor old fairweather friend
If the hills are hard to find
If the misty mountain tops of May
That'll make us change their minds.
Board boy, board boy, rolling down the road
Board boy, board boy, what have you been told.
You can smell the means by which your secret signs do unfold
Board boy, board boy, rolling down the road.
Strange times in Casablanca when people pull down their shades
And its easy enough for us to look at each other and wonder why
We were to blame
Blame comes remorselessly transfixed
Like the sound of slamming doors
And doors have doors have doors have doors have doors
Like companions have pets they sleep in each other's mattresses
Like maggots in despair
And bleed in each other's nests and make a mess of each other's snares
Strange times in Casablanca
Strange times
They make some striking couples
They make some frustration of the call
And only those who are satisfied by friendship would even pay
Attention to it all
It comes like mail or telegrams
It comes expectant as a widow in heat as a widow in the searing heat
And that contentment of depression that delivers most of the time
But cannot help the styling of the horns in the shape of gargoyle
Broken prints savage fingers
Undertaken catamaran
Strange times in Casablanca
We've turned our back on it once before
And we can hear from across the waters what damage it will cause us
And you can smash once more
And they can smash once more
But I don't think anybody wants to smash anymore
Words and music: Lou Reed & John Cale
Starlight open wide, starlight open up you door
This is New York calling with movies on the street
Movies with real people, what you get is what you see
Starlight open wide, Andy's Cecil B. DeMille
Come on L.A. give us a call
We've got superstars who talk, they'll do anything at all
Ingrid, Viva, Little Joe, Baby Jane, and Eddie S.
But you better call us soon before we talk ourselves to death
Starlight open wide everybody is a star
Split screen 8-hour movies
We've got color, we've got sound
Won't you recognize us, we're everything you hate
Andy loves old Hollywood movies, he'll scare you hypocrites to death
You know that shooting up's for real
That person who's screaming, that's the way he really feels
We're all improvising, five movies in a week
If Hollywood doesn't call us - we'll be sick
Starlight open wide
Do to movies what you did to art
Can you see beauty in ugliness, or is it playing in the dirt
There are stars out on the New York streets
We want to capture them on film
But if no one wants to see them
We'll make another and another
Starlight let us in that magic room
We've all dreamt of Hollywood
, it can't happen too soon
Won't you give us a million dollars the rent is due
And will give you 2 movies and a painting
Starlight open wide!
I roamed the world for love and glory
Full-time ambassador of mirth
I never thought that I'd be sorry
To squander most of my true worth
The sun beats down on the valley
The waves crash on the shore
I was a soldier of the alley
I cannot fight there anymore
So now I just wait for the hour
Lips parted like a kiss
I just assume there is a power
Who can deliver me from this
The sun beats down on the valley
The waves crash on the shore
I was a soldier of the alley
I cannot fight there anymore
They say that love is like a flower
That bows so graceful to the light
But I've seen most true love go sour
Then blossom in the dead of night
I can't be certain of the hour
Or who will bear that final kiss
I must assume there is a power
Who can deliver me from this
The sun beats down on the valley
The waves crash on the shore
I was a soldier of the alley
I cannot fight there anymore
To roam the world for love and glory
To roam the world at all
Who would have thought that I'd be sorry
To squander it all
The sun beats down on the valley
The waves push up against the shore
I was a soldier on the alley
I cannot fight there anymore
Words and music: Lou Reed & John Cale
When you're growing up in a small town
When you're growing up in a small town
When you're growing up in a small town
You say no one famous ever came from here
When you're growing up in a small town
and you're having a nervous breakdown
and you think that you'll never escape it
Yourself or the place that you live
Where did Picasso come from
There's no Michelangelo coming from Pittsburgh
If art is the tip of the iceberg
I'm the part sinking below
When you're growing up in a small town
Bad skin, bad eyes - gay and fatty
People look at you funny
When you're in a small town
My father worked in construction
It's not something for which I'm suited
Oh - what is something for which you are suited?
Getting out of here
I hate being odd in a small town
If they stare let them stare in New York City
as this pink eyed painting albino
How far can my fantasy go?
I'm no Dali coming from Pittsburgh
No adorable lisping Capote
My hero - Oh do you think I could meet him?
I'd camp out at his front door
There is only one good thing about small town
There is only one good use for a small town
There is only one good thing about small town
You know that you want to get out
When you're growing up in a small town
You know you'll grow down in a small town
There is only one good use for a small town
You hate it and you'll know you have to leave
Words and music: Lou Reed & John Cale
People said to lock the door and have an open house no more
The said the Factory must change and slowly slip away
But if I have to live in fear, where will I get my ideas
With all those crazy people gone, will I slowly slip away
Still there's no more Billy Name, and Ondine is not the same
Wonton and the Turtle gone
Slowly slip away...slowly slip away
If I close the Factory door and don't see those people anymore
If I give in yo infamy...I'll slowly slip away
I know it seems that friends are right
Hello daylight, goodbye night
But starlight is so quiet here, think I'll slowly slip away
What can I do by myself, it's good to here from someone else
It's good to hear a crazy voice that will not slip away
Will not slip away
If I have to live in fear my ideas will slowly slip away
If I have to live in fear I'm afraid my life will slip away
If you can't see me past my door
Why your thoughts could slowly slip away
If I have to lock the door, another life exists no more
Slip away
Friends have said to lock the door
Watch out for who comes through the door
The said the Factory must change
But I don't
Duck and Sally inside
They're cooking for the down five
Who's starin' at Miss Rayon
Who's busy lickin' up her pig pen
I'm searching for my mainline
I said I couldn't hit it sideways
I said I couldn't hit it sideways
Oh, just like Sister Ray said
Whip it on
Rosie and Miss Rayon
They're busy waitin' for her booster
Who just got back from Carolina
She said she didn't like the weather
They're busy waitin' for her sailor
Who says he's just as big as ever
He says he's from Alabama
He wants to know a way to earn a dollar
I'm searchin' for my mainer
I said I couldn't hit it sideways
I couldn't hit it sideways
Oh, just like Sister Ray said
Play it on
Cecil's got his new piece
He cocks and shoots between three and four
He aims it at the sailor
Shoots him down dead on the floor
Aw, you shouldn't do that
Don't you know you'll stain the carpet
Now don't you know you'll stain the carpet
And by the way, have you got a dollar
Oh, no man, I haven't got the time, time
Too busy sucking on a ding-dong
She's busy sucking on my ding-dong
Aw, she does just like Sister Ray said
I'm searching for my mainline
I said I -c-c-couldn't hit it sideways
I c-c-c-c-c-couldn't hit it sideways
Oh, do it, do it aw just just just like Sister Ray said
Now, who is that knocking
Who's knocking on my chamber door
Could it be the police
They come and take me for a ride, ride
Oh but I haven't got the time, time
Hey, hey, hey, she's busy sucking on my ding-dong
She's busy sucking on my ding-dong
Aw now do it just like Sister Ray says
I'm searching for my mainline
I couldn't hit it sideways
I couldn't hit it sideways
Now just like, oh just like aw, just like Sister Ray said.
Whip it on me Jim!
Wasting time, we wait for answers, every time we throw the dice. Breaking down all delusions, wasting time.
Finding time, we take no chances. Treating time, and pulling punches. Losing time ruins the dance. Wasting time, wasting time.
Real time gives no comfort. Space and time, planets turn. Crying time, we make the moments. Take their time.
Time is always on the menue. Killing time, there is no choice. Wasting time is like old helpless keeping time.
The Ship of Fools is coming in
Take me off I've got to eat
Same old stories same old thing
Letting out and pulling in
Mister, there's a caravan parked out back
Restless hoping for a Christian rider
The black book, a grappling hook
A hangman's noose on a burnt out tree
Guess we must be getting close to Tombstone
The last time we had eaten
Was when the flies were going for free
You could count the hardships by the open doors
But sandwiched in between
Were the fishermen who still
Wished they could sail from Tenessee to Arizona
So hold on, won't be long
The call is on the line
Hold on, Sister's gone
South to give the sign
We picked up Dracula in Memphis
It was just about the break of day
And then hastily prayed for out souls to be saved
There was something in the air that made us kind of weary
By the time we got to Swansea it was getting dark
Tumble, jungles, bugles and the prize
The tides turned west at Amerforth
As if they didn't know what to do
But Garnant stood its ground and asked for more
All the people seemed quite glad to see us
Shaking hands and smiling like the clock
Well we gave them all the message then
That the Ship of Fools was in
Make sure they get home for Christmas
So hold on, won't be long
The call is on the line
So hold on, Sister's gone
South to give the sign
What do you think is going on here the old man said from his chair? D'You think this is anything new? Now look here son. This is just like it was back in the old days before the last war? Then the politics changed, the scene rearranged and became how we know now is quo. Oh yeah, there were times when everyone smiled and the greed of the good times would roll, but a heartbeat away was the crime that did pay - the shot that was heard around the world. If you go to sleep, the old man explained, you're just going to miss on your turn. But if you stay awake the path that you take may in fact become a bridge to be burned.
And the old man turned away (Secrets) wiping his tears from his eyes.
It's already too late, he whispered, but that's certainly no reason to cry.
(Dirty little secrets)
You see the last pioneer is waving his flag, framing the organ bone by bone, burning in sections, twisting his flag and walking on glass as he is clearing his tomb.
Yeah, nevertheless, there's no money, said the kid. "Eh well, half-price hookers are watching the mast, the old man said, prepared to face the music and laugh. Bring the shadows down on the heads of the soft ladies that lie on their mechanical beds. And nevertheless, there ain't no money, the kid said. Well so call up a future and rewrite the past, said the old man. Raise the hammer and stifle the news, polish the armour and dust off the grass. There's more dead-end options here than we'll ever use.
But nevertheless, there's no money, said the kid. Well, hell, there's glitter galore to tell you of gold.
(Secrets)
Nevertheless there ain't no money, said the kid.
(Secrets)
With second hand hardware all over the world?
Dirty little secrets)
Nevertheless there ain't no money.
Well listen, times are hard but the crowd's flooding in.
Yeah, nevertheless there ain't no money.
Hey kid, second class will sell to the valley again don't worry.
But nevertheless there ain't no money, said the kid.
Well, what do you want me to do about it? said the old man. I've come up with every argument I can for the fact that the lawyers are leeching the marrow out of the bone of anyone who's got an original idea in this country.
Well what country are you talking about? said the kid.
I'm talking about the country where my nephew makes honey out of old orange peels and plastic out of old BandAids. I'm talking about a country where the sun never sets, I'm talking about a country where fish are the bricks that build the edifices from which you can throw yourself in a veritable syndrome of court reverence. Ahaha, greed and gun and invests.
Nevertheless there ain't no money, said the kid.
Marks and pounds and pieces of flesh? said the old man.
Nevertheless there ain't no money, said the kid.
Hey, no protection is worth a damn, said the old man.
Nevertheless there ain't no money, said the kid.
They're sending the waters off Helega lamps.
Nevertheless there ain't no money, said the kid.
They're carving the marble shape of the urn.
Nevertheless there ain't no money, said the kid.
A goateed image in Turkish stone?
Nevertheless there ain't no money. Oh God, said the kid, what am I going to do with my life now?
The woman settled for anomalous clothes and socks some place in Vermont.
Nevertheless there ain't no money, said the old man.
The young man is evidently not worth suing.
Nevertheless there ain't no money, said the old man.
State of Vermont is in America? said the kid.
Nevertheless there ain't no money, said the old man.
They're doing it again and again and again.
Nevertheless there ain't no money, said the old man.
Who's that in the big Japanese car?
Dealing sushi from a German bar
Well no one knows but he won't get far
I took my tomahawk for a satellite walk
I took my tomahawk for a satellite walk
Who put the fishes in the deep blue sea?
Who put the monkeys back in the tree?
Well it wasn't you and it wasn't me
I took my tomahawk for a satellite walk
I took my tomahawk for a satellite walk
Who's been sleeping in my VCR?
Who's been chewing on my PDR?
I must complain to the manager
I took my tomahawk for a satellite walk
I took my tomahawk for a satellite walk
Who's that sailing in the black lagoon?
Who's erasing the face of the man in the moon?
Well I hope he don't come around here too soon
I took my tomahawk for a satellite walk
I took my tomahawk for a satellite walk
Wake up, wake up
Get up, get up
Let's dance
She was so afraid
Since her mother, white with time,
Told her
She was a failure
She was so ashamed
Of everything she said
And everything she did
For her mother, white with time
Everything around her mother
White with time
And dirty
Her mother was greedy with dirt
Greedy
Then she heard choirs of angels
Singing choirs of angels
Greedy angels
Spitting glory on her failure
That stardust of failure
As if it was medicine that didn't work
Any way
Anyway
The windows
They were closed
And the midwives had locked their doors
They didn't understand
And after all, what was there to understand?
But the angels
Sheer choirs of angels
In a friendship
No, more than a friendship
It was a marriage
A marriage made in the grave
In the shivering night
The searching of the river continued
That bullet of searchlight
That searchlight
found her so cockleshell and sure
Sick and tired of what she saw
But cockleshell and sure
Sure of what the world had offered a tired soul
From Istanbul to Madrid
From Reykjavik, to Bonn
To Leipzig, to Leningrad
To Shanghai, Pnonm Penh
All so that it would be a stronger world
A strong, though loving, world
To die in
They rush him into somewhere
He's dancing in his chains
And the traitor's melancholy
Feeling out of place
And he will have to dig
For miles underground of soil
If the freshmen
Dizzy from turning their back
On everyone started
Well, everybody is disguised
Everybody is distressed
Distrust, disgusting
Well, behind the sanatory
Knocking beauty
That looses out on each and every song
Behind the stairs of blood banks are
The park bench creatures that belong
Hey, John Wayne, he can feel no pain
Cause he's got no brain
He's riding horses to Acropolis and back
Just like a former crosseyed catholic
Like another crosseyed former proddy
For all the creatures that belong
That material safety ain't a safety found in numbers
But they're never getting slumber
And they're never getting
And the gettings are gone
Hey now, beauty comes last
Safety first but beauty comes last
Safety first cause ??? caravan comes last
Sells some short
With fifty ??? full of bullets
For the truncation of the human race
Japan, Japan, Japan we love you
The ??? too
California
We'll hurry our missiles sucking
The moist vagina of the war
Leave it ???
And Russia is defecting
Russia, Russia is defecting
Russia is defected, is defective, is defecting
What's wrong with our motherland
What's wrong with our fatherland
Here comes the China Ku Klux Klan
They've got black Communists surgeons
In case you need them
They have Communist surgeons
They have come to search them
And they have to come in and search them
They have black Communist surgeons
They have black Communist surgeons
In case you need them
And it rains, if it rains
When it rains
It never rains on the Russian Party
If it rains
On the Communist Party
If it rains
Posted by Dead Man Walking
All along the riverbank nobody seems to know
They heard nothing, saw even less of the hunger in their souls
Safety first or safety last I wish I could have helped
Those poor unfortunate widows standing waiting for their sailor boys
Madame Nhu, yes madame knew
Down they came to look around that riverbank
For names or numbers or anything they could find written there
On the wall
Cause somebody seemed to know but no one was prepared to tell
Anything they'd learnt to love about long ago
And the cold people getting colder
Like babysitters in their graves
Satisfying heretic vicars passing on
Send them running on ahead picking up the wendy trash instead
Like foulmouth people openheart surgery creatures
Crawling back inside of you
All along the riverbank nobody will ever know
What fools and their monies sailors and their honeys
Got stung one evening there
Cause the stones around their necks are the stones on the Riverbank
Words: Sam Shepherd
I knew a guitar player once
Who called the radio friendly
He felt a kinship, not with the music so much as with the radio's voice
Its synthetic quality
Its voice as distinct from the voices coming through it
Its ability to transmit the illusion of people at a great distance
He slept with the radio
He talked to the radio
He disagreed with the radio
He believed in a far away radio land
He believed he would never find this land
So he reconciled himself to listening to it only
He believed he had been banned from the radio land
And was doomed to prowl the airwaves forever
Seeking some magical channel
That would reinstate him to his long lost heritage
Won't you help me please,
I'm growing old
A million years ago
Won't you help me sneeze,
I've caught a cold
Another way to go
Just hold on tightly
This shows on my breed
They speak so very slow
It gets so hard to follow
Slowly in the mist of captive eyes
To carry you from home
Hansom cab again from dawn till dusk
My power amphibious bride
I'll just leave you here like this
I'm sure you won't be missed
Before this night is done
These words won't seem so wrong.
Oh it can't be that bad
Back up in Trinidad
Come down and see me soon
When you get back from the moon.
Welcome to the goldrush, ladies and gentlemen, where California begins and maybe ends.
California is the last stop on the great hitchhike west and now it's getting a little full. Too many thumbs. Well, when you get too many people in one place, you get intolerance and contempt and rigidity and tension and sarcasm, distrust, anxiety, envy, hate, cynicism, discontent, self-pity, malice, suspicion, jealousy and snobbishness. And this leads right into poetry, painting, sculpture, dance, music and literature, photography. These are known as the arts. And art will break your heart. So what? So will a good meal. Art is not the spiritual side of business-as-usual.
And art is not for everyone. Never has been and it never will be. Now me, I don't know much about art, but I do like what I know. You know in these days when everybody is mistaking celebrity for talent, ambition for genius, self-pity for humility, style for content and loathing for love, they spend a lot of time getting in touch with themself. And then they find self-justification, self-righteousness, self-obsession, self-pity, self-loathing, self-concern, self-centredness, self-reliance, and self-serving gratification.
She makes me so unsure of myself
Standing there but never talking sense
Just a visitor you see
So much wanting to be seen
She'd open up the door and vaguely carry us away
It's the customary thing to say or do
To a disappointed proud man in his grief
And on Fridays she'd be there
And on Wednesday not at all
Just casually appearing from the clock across the hall
You're a ghost la la la
You're a ghost
I'm in the church and I've come
To claim you with my iron drum
la la la
The Continent's just fallen in disgrace
William William William Rogers put it in its place
Blood and tears from old Japan
Caravans and lots of jam and maids of honor
singing crying singing tediously
(Les Tuilleries -- instruments sans voix)
Efficiency efficiency they say
Get to know the date and tell the time of day
As the crowds begin complaining
How the Beaujolais is raining
Down on darkened meetings on Champs Elysee
God knows how long she was waiting on the mountain, staring at the river, watching all her dreams go by. Every single morning she sang of crystal fountains, counting the days until she spread her wings and fly. She had her eye on a man, the hero of the valley. Born in an alley wearing felony-shoes. When it came to the ladies, that man became a legend, famous for his freedom, freed to pick and choose. Lay your money, lay your money down. Lay your money, lay your money down.
It was a marriage made in heaven, meant for each other, natural born lovers want to sing each other's song. It was too good to be true, too good not to try, too soon to tell, it was too late to cry. There were shadows in [the kitchen], poison in the air. Secrets to be hidden, they were too much to care. It was lipstick for breakfast, and fine wine in a glass, resentments in the mirror, there was no way you can last. Lay your money, lay your money down. Lay your money, lay your money down.
There was static on the juke box and murder on their minds, money on the table, there were [walls left to climb]. Lights across the water, and fireworks in the sky, Paradise Nevada on the fifth night of July. Twisting like a dancer she took everything he had. This side of Whiskey nothing cut in half is bad. There are losses, there are debts, there are winners to be found, there are wagers, there are bets, there are losers in the crowd. Lay your money, lay your money down. Lay your money, lay your money down.
Overture - a) A Tourist - b) A Contact - c) A Prisoner
Excuse me, excuse me! Can you show me the way out of here?
Of course. This way. Just pass The Headless Horsemen, the Caf Shabu.
And how far is that?
Not far. You're the tourist here, you should take it easy. If you can trust a stranger, follow me.
I don't mind if I do. I'm a stranger here with a sense of regret that I'd like to forget that I drank from a paranoid glass. I come from a paranoid base. Sure, I spent time in prison. A prison of my own devices, haven't we all? I'm a foreigner here and I'm feeling just a little worn. I'm looking for points of importance and historical interest, trapped by the same rate of exchange of that I'm running away from. And as we all know, we hate to change. But Change is a virtue, my friend. If you want to escape, all you have to do is make up your mind.
But you're not a prisoner here, and I'm made to work with my hands, part of my sentence for taking the licence to think of impossible plans. Working my fingers to the bone, keeping my hands on the rungs of that ladder, that leads us out of the gutter to the light.
It's all been a big mistake. I've done nothing wrong. I'm just an innocent here. I'm just an innocent here. I'm just an innocent here. I'm just an innocent here. I'm just an innocent here. I'm just an innocent ...
Words and music: Lou Reed & John Cale
Please
Come over to 81st street I'm in the apartment above the bar
You know you can't miss it, it's across from the subway
and the tacky store with the Mylar scarves
My skin's as pale as outdoors moon
My hair's silver like a Tiffany watch
I like lots of people around me but don't kiss hello
And please don't touch
It's a Czechoslovakian custom my mother passed on to me
The way to make friends Andy is invite them up for tea
Open house, open house
I've got a lot of cats, here's my favorite
She's lady called Sam
I made a paper doll of her - you can have it
That's what I did when I had St.Vitus dance
It's a Czechoslovakian custom my mother pased on to me
Give people little presents so they remember me
Open house, open house
Someone bring the vegetables, someone please bring heat
My mother showed up yesterday, we need something to eat
I think I got a job today they want me to draw shoes
The ones I drew were old and used
They told me - draw something new
Open house, open house
Fly me to the moon, fly me to a star
But there are no stars in the New York sky
They're all on the ground
You scared yourself with music, I scared myself with paint
It almost made me faint
Open house, open house
Words: Dylan Thomas
The sky is torn across
This ragged anniversary of two
Who moved for three years in tune
Down the long walks of their vows.
Now their love lies a loss
And Love and his patients roar on a chain;
From every true or crater
Carrying cloud. Death strikes their house.
Too late in the wrong rain
They come together whom their love parted:
The windows pour into their heart
And the doors burn in their brain.
Sitting 'round, talking 'bout old China and how the ladies hair will go to grey, paying for a speedy revolution, hoping those fine lines will go away. Someone screams about abuse of power, so lonely there was nothing left to say, hoping for a speaking revolution, and wishing that the crimes would go away.
Cross your heart and hope to die, it'll happen in the blinking of an eye.
Cross your heart and hope to die, it'll happen in the blinking of an eye.
Dealing with the mask of your deception, I threw that other chance away today.
I'd been asking for a speedy resolution, hoping other signs would go away. Since
sitting here, talking 'bout old china, and how old ladies hair will go to grey, I'd
been praying for a speedy resolution, expecting that the time will slip away.
Cross your heart and hope to die, it'll happen in the blinking of an eye.
Cross your heart and hope to die, it'll happen in the blinking of an eye.
Well they say that every dog has his day
But puppy love was never really my way
Hear your voice - am I asleep or awake?
Since you're gone
Love that's here today - fade away tomorrow
Love that's here today - fade away tomorrow
Where to go? Should I just stay here or run?
If I'd wings I'd aim them straight for the sun
Who to call? Or should I just take a walk
Little words add up to small talk
Love that's here today - fade away tomorrow
Love that's here today - fade away tomorrow
Love is fickle, love is true
You can count on memories
They linger on, love never stays
Here she comes full of white light and heat
With a walk that'd stop the cars in the street
Love that's here today - fade away tomorrow
Love that's here today - fade away tomorrow
The sky's full of dirty, aching air, that's burning a greasy yellow and zooming
slowly in on everyone, [untie] these fighting sunsets that will not be fulfilled.
The noise on her eyes is still there, even when the retina yields in the strain of
the dull, sacreligious commandment of an eye for an eye or a tooth for a truth.
Even the ocean is ghettoized now, another dirty alleyway that leads nobody home.
When you're so young and full of expectations, you're looking for that perfect wave
and when you'd like to ride them all/on. So I ask you from the bottom of my heart,
is that any way to treat your mother? Red, red, red river, bloody ocean of
sorrowful memories carry me to the deep blue sea. I hear you. Call me.
Is it true that virtue fell by the wayside? Not even a mark. And who will lift
the fog of bitterness, who [will sigh] the tide of regret? Who'll avoid the
undertow of sentimental drift? Who can live long on poetry and rats? I don't have
the patience, but what does it cost on the open market? And who can afford that?
I wanna be buried in the bottom of the ocean, like Shelly Winters in "The
Night of the Hunter". My hair abillowing, being kissed by the fishes, Sushi
for Shabu. If fishes were wishes I'd have you. I'd have you. Ahh, I've never
[felt one tremor] that is greed, envy, lust, gluttony, anger, pride.
Words and music: Lou Reed & John Cale
I really care a lot although I look like I do not
Since I was shot there's nobody but you
I know I look blase, party Andy's what the papers say
At dinner I'm the one who pays - for a nobody like you
Nobody but you, a nobody like you
Since I got shot there's nobody but you
Won't you decorate my house
I'll sit there quiet as a mouse
You know me I like to look a lot - at nobody like you
I'll hold your hand and slap my face
I'll tickle you to your disgrace
Won't you put me in my proper place - a nobody like you
Sundays I pray a lot, I'd like to wind you up
and paint your clock
I want to be what I am not - for a nobody like you
The bullet split my spleen and lung, the doctors said I was gone
Inside I've got some shattered bone for nobody but you
I'm still not sure I didn't die
And if I'm dreaming I still have bad pains inside
I know I'll never be a bride - to nobody like you
I wish I had a stronger chin, my skin was good, my nose was thin
This is no movie I'd ask to be in - with a nobody like you
Nobody like you, a nobody like you, all my life -
It's been nobodies like you
I believe you Mr Wilson
I believe the things you say
And I'm always thinking of you
When I hear your music play
And you know it's true
That Wales is not like California in any way
And when I listen to your music
You're still thousands of miles away
Take your mixes not your mixture
Add some music to our day
Don't believe the things they tell you
Don't let them get in your way
And you know that it's true
Wales is not like California in any way
And everytime I hear hear your music
You're still thousands of miles away
Califorinia wine is fine...
Momamma Scuba
Scuba woman down me slow
Scuba woman down me slow
Love you
Skin turn to slime
Hold me slow and dub me down
Take me with you, dub me down
Love you
Skin dub me down
Scuba mama sink me down
Love your sinking, hold me down
Love you som much
Skin will drown and drown
Soul in deep, deep ocean water
We hide in the cool, cool shade
Seeking, reaping
Make it only, baby, only
Sleeping the pain away
Well, hug me close and stuff me tight
Quick is quick and kife is knife
Momamma Scuba dance
Dance, dance
Love me brave, my love's on fire
Crack the magnet of desire
Push me further, straight along
I'll still be here when mama's gone
Don't you love mme, my skin woman
Love you
My skin can dry
In the shadows of the night come the friends of fantasy dancing forward toward
the dawn, wrapped in coats of vanity. In the closets in the home hang the toasts
of days gone by, breaking every haunted scheme confusing thoughts with fantasy.
This is the modern world, this is the modern world, this is the modern world.
In the backrooms where they wait, keeping time so patiently, playing cards and
casting lots, sit the last of judgement's [all]? In their confusion to deceive,
they miss the point so handily, filling every secret need. They succeed perfectly.
This is the modern world, this is the modern world, this is the modern world.
May I help you, sir?
Yes, I'd like to buy a map, please.
What kind of map?
As up-to-date as possible, I'm thinking of doing a bit of travelling and I need the latest world atlas.
I'm sorry but we may be in a bit of trouble there. All the maps are changing so rapidly it's difficult to follow these days since the East has returned to the dance floor.
Yes, I sense a loss of asimuth here, a falling off the edge of the world as we know it, a scattering of temples, a wish for a more modern [Cairo], a more [devisive] equator, a more beautiful sunset, a bluer sky, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
I'm leaving for home, leaving for home tonight. Gabon, Zaire, Congo, Rwanda. I'm leaving for home, leaving for home tonight. Zimbabwe, Botswana, Lesotho, Tansania.
The world changes partners to dance. Poor Libya, so misunderstood. The mighty Zambezi, the windblown Kalahari, a wish for a more electronic mailbox, a more African nightmare, a more vigorous Burundi, Mozambique Electronique, the armies of Namibia. Angola, who is your Cuba now? Changed partners, the world wants to dance.
I'm leaving for home, leaving for home tonight. Somalia, Equatorial Guinea, Cameroon, Togo. I'm leaving for home, leaving for home tonight.
Tothigua, Sierra Leone, Senegal, Western Sahara.
The maidens of Morocco, Burkina Faso the riches of Liberia, a stranger symbolism, a sand-storm of antiquities, a more beautiful sunset, a sparser continent, a bluer sky, a more disturbing rhythm, an angrier drum-beat.
I'm leaving for home, leaving for home tonight. Estonia, Latvia, Kazakhstan, Nashville. Changed partners again, changed partners just for the night.
Ankara, Enseno and Madrid, Twin Cities, Reno.
I'm leaving for home, leaving for home tonight. Inuit, Rome, Vancouver.
Changed partners again, changed partners just for the night. Afghanistan, Sardinia, Peru. Changed partners again, changed partners just for the night.
Columbia, Argentina, France, Syria, Catalan, Oslo.
Sooner or later she said she'd be my friend
Honest and faithful till the very end
Well enough of that I'm tired of hearing it anyway
She turns and smiles says goodbye in her inimical way
Happy to see her in the back of a magazine
Lying there nude sporting that stupid grin
So get on with it straight on and porno bound
Just leave me out of it I'm not proud
It would have taken you a long long time
Happy to see her in the back of a limousine
Laughing and crying at everything she'd seen
Well enough of that she should have known better anyway
When I told her what I'd seen she was so ashamed
It would have taken me a long long time
The a year from Monday everything I said came true
That's when the D.A. called me he said dead or alive for you
They found her
Dead or alive
I want you dead or alive she said
Lady Godiva, hair dressed so demurely
Pats the head of another curly-haired boy
Just another toy
Sick with silence she weeps sincerely
Saying words that have all so clearly been said
So long ago
Draperies wrapped gently 'round her shoulders
Life has made her that much bolder now
That she found out how
Dressed in silk, clad in lace and envy
Pride and joy of the latest penny fair
Pretty passing care
Her hair today now are dipped in the water
Making love to every poor daughter's son
Isn't it fun?
Now today, propping grace with envy
Lady Godiva peers to see if anyone's there
And hasn't a care
The doctor's coming, the nurse thinks SWEETLY
Turning on the machines that NEATLY pump air
The body lies bare
Shaved and hairless, what once was SCREAMING
now lies silent and almost SLEEPING
the brain must have gone away
Strapped securely to the white table
Ether causes the body to wither and writhe
underneath the White Light
The doctor arrives, knife and baggage
sees the growth as just so much cabbage
that now
must be cut away
Now comes the moment of Great! Great! Decision!
The doctor is making his first incision
One goes here - one goes there
The ether tube's leaking says someone who's sloppy
Patient it seems is not so well sleeping
The screams echo up the hall
Don't panic someone give him pentathol instantly
Doctor removes his blade
Cagily so from the brain
By my count of ten -
The head won't move!
Words and music: Lou Reed & John Cale
It wasn't me who shamed you, it's not fair to say that
You wanted to work I gave you a chance at that
It wasn't me who hurt you, that's more credit that I'm worth
Don't threaten me with the things you'll do to you
It wasn't me who shamed you, it wasn't me who brought you down
You did it to yourself without any help from me
It wasn't me who hurt you, I showed you possibilities
The problems you had were there before you met me
I didn't say this had to be
You can't blame these things on me
It wasn't , it wasn't me, it wasn't me
I know she's dead, it wasn't me
It wasn't me who changed you, you did it to yourself
I'm not an excuse for the hole you dropped in
I'm not simple minded but I'm not father to you at all
Death exists but you do things to yourself
I never said give up control
I never said stick a needle in your arm and die
It wasn't , it wasn't me, it wasn't me
I know she's dead but it wasn't me
It wasn't me who shamed you, who covered you with mud
You did it to yourself without any help from me
You act as I could've told you or stopped you like some god
But people never listen and you know that that's a fact
I never said slit your wrists and die
I never said throw your life away
It wasn't , it wasn't me, it wasn't me
You're killing yourself - you can't blame me
We kill in the world
We live in it
We live in it
Then you smiled crawling as your houses were burning for God
Books crawl down from the shelves Read themselves to you Read themselves at you In the Library of Force
In the Library of Force
William the Conqueror flipping from the pages of History
Drink from the pages
Come the precious stones of guilt
The tracking of detention
Was lurking in the Souls of Man
From the Last Day of Language
Beaten
Bludgeoned
Ransacked
Stoned
The Written Word
The Written Word
Written Word
Commands to the Sky to Starve the Sky
And the crawling skin of God
Words and music: Lou Reed & John Cale
I think images are worth repeating
Images repeated from a painting
Images taken from a painting
From a photo worth re-seeing
I love images worth repeating, project them upon the ceiling
Multiply them with silk screening
See them with a different feeling
Images
Images
Images
Images
Some say images have no feeling, I think there's a deeper meaning
Mechanical precision or so it's seeming
Instigates a cooler feeling
I love multiplicity of screenings
Things born anew display new meanings
I think images are worth repeating and repeating and repeating
I'm no urban idiot savant spewing paint without any order
I'm no sphinx, no mystery enigma
What I paint is very ordinary
I don't think I'm old or modern, I don't think I think I'm thinking
It doesn't matter what I'm thinking
It's the images that are worth repeating
Images
Images
Images
Images
If you're looking for a deeper meaning, I'm as deep as this high ceiling
If you think technique is meaning, you might find me very simple
You might think that images boring
Cars and cans and chairs and flowers
You might find me personally boring
Hammer, sickle, Mao Tse Tong, Mao Tse Tong -
I think that it bears repeating the images upon the ceiling
I love images worth repeating and repeating and repeating
Images
Images
Images
Images
If you were still around
I'd hold you
I'd hold you
I'd shake you by the knees
Blow hard in both ears
If you were still around
You could write like a panther
Whatever got into your veins
What kind of green blood
Swung you to your doom
To your doom
If you were still around
I'd tear unto your fear
Leave it hanging off you
In long streamers
Shreds of dread
If you were still around
I'd turn you facing the wind
Bend your spine on my knee
Chew the back of your head
Chew the back of your head
'Til you opened your mouth
To this life
when my lady passes me by
I lose the love I thought I had in mind
send no flowers or words of regret
cause I'm not the loving kind
day by day I was hoping you'd be
the kind of love that would give me peace of mind
but it may just have passed me by
cause I'm not the loving kind
oooh, aah, etc.
I'm not the loving kind
oooh, aah, etc.
cause I'm not the loving kind
You don't believe it, yes it must be true
how I lost all the love I had in you
send me please no words of regret
cause I'm not the loving kind
oooh, aah, etc.
cause I'm not the loving kind
Never win and never lose
There's nothing much to choose
Between the right and wrong
Nothing lost and nothing gained
Still things aren't quite the same
Between you and me
I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I still hear your voice at night
When I turn out the light
And try to settle down
But there's nothing much I can do
Because I can't live without you
Any way at all
I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
Welcome to the Caf Shabu. Permit me to introduce you to some of our regulars. Starting on my immediate left, ladies and gentlemen, here in Caf Shabu, you'll note a poet, a man of words by trade. And yes, that's a refugee from an unnamed political philosophy, come here to spread his message of joy and peace amongst us. Thank you very much sir. Over here, next to him we see a lady who has traded-in a lifestyle of the rich and famous for work with underprivileged and exceptional children which I am sure makes her very pleased with herself, ladies and gentlemen. Sitting next to her a man of letters and words and moods. A man who spent most of his life deceiving himself and now finds himself facing six years in rehabilitation prison and a death sentence on the outside. Sitting next to him on a banquette, a ballerina. She's had two grapes, a raisin, and a chicklet, and she's full. In fact, she's been stuffed for years. Next to her are two spinsters knitting their way in and out of various predicaments coloure
d by the excesses of their ancestors. And close by them, some surreal painter's brooding over the very over-emphasis of colour-violence. Violence on the blue end of the scale. Next to them, two off-duty detectives checking each other out. Next door to the sugarholics, see them shivering, see them staring into the distance, see them growing, oh, see them go comatose. Insulin please, Maitre D'! On my immediate right several politicians smiling lizard-like, see them assure themselves that their status is indeed quo.
Rip up the cheques said the Maitre D'. See if I care. I do this for the company. I've got no-one to trust any secrets to but myself. In the basement, in the vault, in the attic on the walls are the pictures I take in part-payment for my time. And the waitress reminds you that in the backroom bathed in red, glowing with the speed of light that reflects the demands of the living for the dead, are our angels, a host at your service to meet your every need. So order up, the waitress said. Our great caf serves everything.
Words and music: Lou Reed & John Cale
Valerie Solanis took the elevator got off at the 4th floor
Valerie Solanis took the elevator got off at the 4th floor
She pointed the gun at Andy saying you cannot control me anymore
And I believe there's got to be some retribution
I believe an eye for an eye is elemental
And I believe that something's wrong if she's alive right now
Valerie Solanis took three steps pointing at the floor
Valerie Solanis waved her gun pointing at the floor
From inside her idiot madness spoke and bang
Andy fell onto the floor
And I believe life's serious enough for retribution
I believe being sick is no excuse and
I believe I would've pulled the switch on her myself
When they got him to the hospital his pulse was gone
they thought that he was dead
His guts were pouring from his wounds onto the floor
they thought that he was dead
Not until years later would the hospital do to him what she could not
Andy said, "Where were you, you didn't come to see me"
Andy said, "I think I died, why didn't you come to see me"
Andy said, ""t hurt so much, they took blood from my hand"
I believe there's got to be some retribution
I believe there's got to be some retribution
I believe we are all the poorer for it now
Visit me, why didn't you visit me
Visit me, why didn't you visit me
Now, if she ever comes now now
If she ever comes now, now
If she ever comes now
Now, if she ever comes now now
If she ever comes now, now
If she ever comes now
Aw, it looks so good,
Aw, she's made out of wood
Just look and see
Now, if she ever comes now now
If she ever comes now, now
If she ever comes now
Now, if she ever comes now now
If she ever comes now, now
If she ever comes now
Aw, it looks so good
Aw, she's made out of wood
Just look and see
Hooked up on a fishing line,
Looking for the break of day
I've never been here before anyway
Its the line in my feet that's to blame.
Settled down in the mud
Giving everybody blood
It's just not such a beautiful thing to do.
Left the castle in Spain
In an ambulance all the way
Could it be that the clock's really stopped?
Hello, there.
Everbody, when's the next train out of here?
I'm sorry, but I'm much too young for this
I'll come back again next year.
He came to lend a helping hand
To the miller and the butcher's men
Someone took the tuba for a pony ride
And the music sounded so much better.
Taking turns having fun
When there's not enough sun
It was midnight when the chorus came
Then the piano collapsed in a heap on the grass
And they blamed it on a rock 'n roll song
Hello, there.
Everbody, when's the next train out of here?
I'm sorry but I'm much too young for this
I'll come back again next year.
Yes I'll come back again next year.
Words and music: Lou Reed & John Cale
Andy it's me, haven't seen you in a while
I wished I talked to you more when you were alive
I thought you were self-assured when you acted shy
Hello it's me
I really miss you, I really miss your mind
I haven't heard ideas like that in such a long, long time
I loved to watch you draw and watch you paint
But when I saw you last I turned away
When Billy Name was sick and locked up in his room
You asked me for some speed, I though it was for you
I'm sorry that I doubted your good heart
Things always seem to end before they start
Hello it's me, that was a great gallery show
Your cow wallpaper and your floating silver pillows
I wish I paid more attention when they laughed at you
Hello it's me
"Pop goes pop artist," the headline said
"Is shooting a put-on, is Warhol really dead?"
You get less time for stealing a car
I remember thinking as I heard my own record in a bar
They really hated you, now all that's changed
But I have some resentments that can never be unmade
You hit me where it hurt I didn't laugh
Your Diaries are not a worthy epitaph
Oh well now Andy - guess we've got to go
I hope some way somehow you like this little show
I know it's late in coming but it's the only way I know
Hello it's me - goodnight Andy...
Goodbye, Andy
Words & music by Mae B. Axton - Tommy Durden - Elvis Presley
Well, since my baby left me,
I found a new place to dwell.
It's down at the end of lonely street
at Heartbreak Hotel.
You make me so lonely baby,
I get so lonely,
I get so lonely I could die.
And although it's always crowded,
you still can find some room.
Where broken hearted lovers
do cry away their gloom.
You make me so lonely baby,
I get so lonely,
I get so lonely I could die.
Well, the Bell hop's tears keep flowin',
and the desk clerk's dressed in black.
Well they been so long on lonely street
They ain't ever gonna look back.
You make me so lonely baby,
I get so lonely,
I get so lonely I could die.
Hey now, if your baby leaves you,
and you got a tale to tell.
Just take a walk down lonely street
to Heartbreak Hotel.
If the sacheting of gentlemen
Gives you grievance now and then
What's needed are some memories of planing lakes
Those planing lakes will surely calm you down
Nothing frightens me more
Than religion at my door
I never answer panic knocking, falling
Down the stairs upon the law
What law?
There's a law for everything
And for Elephants that sing to keep
The cows that agriculture won't allow
Hanky Panky nohow
Hanky Panky nohow oh
I suppose I'm glad I'm on this train
And it's long
Somewhere between Dunkirk an Paris
Most people here are still asleep
But I'm awake
Looking out from here -- at half-past France
Things are much different here than Norway
Not so cold
Wonder when we'll be in Dundee
Old Hollweg knows his way around
He's no fool
Wish I'd get to see my son again
From here on it's got to be
A simple case of them or me
If they're alive then I am dead
Pray God and eat your daily bread
Take your time
We're so far away
Floating in this bay
We're so far away from home
Where we belong
I'm not afraid now of the dark anymore
And many mountains now are molehills
Back in Berlin they're all well fed
I don't care
People always bored me anyway
The bugger in the short sleeves fucked my wife
Did it quick and split
Back home, fresh as a daisy to Maisy, oh Maisy
And the twelve-bore it stood in the corner
Quite operatic in its self disgust
It blew him all over the living room floor
Like parrot shit, parrot spit, parrot shit was shot
Now suppose it was someone familiar
Someone we all would know
Embarrasing denouement, ne c'est pas?
Familiar hyperbole
And there would go the secret plot
The piss had missed the hole in the pot
Like that ancient teenage dream
From soul to poison soul to poison soul
Guts, guts, got no guts
And stitches don't help at all
Guts, guts, got no guts
Holes in the body, holes in the legs
Holes in the forehead, holes in the head
Holes in the body, holes in the legs
There should never be holes at all
There should never be holes at all
So: kill all you want or more
Make sure, do it right
Dead is dead, and door nails forget
And then you'll notice
How the waster and the wasted
Get to look like one another
In the end, in the end
In the end, in the end
In the end, in the end
In the end, in the end
Me and my partner we work on the run
The quick try to get quicker
And the creepers get hung
Now it's you that got wasted tonight on the job
One lost his liquor
And the other lost his hand
Ten sticky thumb prints on the door and the sink
But nothin' saw nothin' - just smell the stink
Five hundred mugshots and a hundred to one
Four forgotten and the rest just won't come
When you've begun to think like a gun
The rest of the year has already gone
When you've begun to think like a gun
The days of the year have suddenly gone
(Well) blood on the windows and blood on the walls
Blood on the ceiling and down in the halls
And the papers keep downing on everything I burned
And the people getting restless but they'll never learn
I picked up a doctor - he's good with a knife
Says anaesthetic's a waste of his time
Works in a hurry but always worthwhile
Knows they won't be back for a long long time
Top of the staircase was ready to fall
We were still waiting downstairs in the hall
Watch out for big mama, she'll set you on fire
Or go for your neck with the chicken wire
When you've begun to think like a gun
The days of the year have suddenly gone
Once you've begun to think like a gun
The days of the year have already gone
Mother of plenty, mother of none
You've got me cornered and still on the run
I don't care nothing about you anyway
Stuck in this hole I'm on my way
Yeah when you've begun to live like a gun
The days of the year have already gone
When you've begun to think like a gun
The days of the year have suddenly gone
You're having tea with Graham Greene
In a colored costume of your choice
And you'll be held in high esteem
If you're seen in between
Stiffly holding umbrellas
Catching the fellows making the toast
To the civil servant Carruthers
Making the others worser than most
You're making small talk now with the Queen
And the elegant ladies in waiting
You're very nervous they can all tell
Pretty well they can tell
So save yourselves for the hounds of hell
They can have you all to themselves
Since the fashion now is to give away
All the things you love so well
Welcome back to Chipping and Sodbury
You can have another chance
It must all seem like second nature
Chopping down the people where they stand
According to the latest score
Mr. Enoch Powell is falling star
So in future please bear in mind
Don't see clear don't see far
When the average social director
Mistook a passenger for the conductor
So shocking see the old Church of E
Looking down on you and me
Holding on, with both eyes, to things that don't exist
Peering through the cutting wrist, at grand old mother greedy
Rolling out the cotton ship, upon the carpet pillow
Throttling children callously, a messy day with Clancy
Gideon lied and Gideon died
The force of China felt
Gideon smiled as Gideon died
The thought of China held.
Rolling out the golden robes and other foreign language
Stretching out the verbs and nouns together in the greeting
Some that felt the blade often, some deep confused emotion
Struck eye first against the wall of China under fire.
Gideon lied and Gideon died
The force of China felt
Gideon smiled as Gideon died
The thought of China held.
It was seven o'clock in the morning
Too late to handle the day
At home it was only two thirty
The skin on my wrists turning grey
Stood up, wished us good luck
He changed his attitudes twice
The box in the corner shivered in fear
He was tired and hungry for days.
The next year she bought a new stomach
From Liverpool made in Detroit
Constantly passing old matches
Some sentries and millionaires
Who did? Gallagher did
The same old thing every time
Gave up, more empty cups
They were tired and hungry for nights.
It made life a littl e easier
To have Holland on the run
It didn't take that long to forget her
My old man and his gun
Rushed out, lions about
Wasting away on advice
A hundred and three, 400 or more
It'll haunt you for the rest of your life
Words and music: Lou Reed & John Cale
Train entering the city - I lost myself and never come back
Took a trip around the world and never came back
Black silhouettes, crisscrossed tracks never came back
Forever changed, forever changed
You might think I'm frivolous, uncaring and cold
You might think I'm frivolous - depends on your point of view
Society And who paints and records them - the high and the low
I left my all life behind me and never went back
Forever changed, forever changed
Got to get to the city - get a job
Got to get some work to see me through
My old life's disappearing from view
Hong Kong - and I was changed
Burma and India - and I was changed
Only art to see me through
Only heart to see me through
My old life disappearing from my view
Brigid and Pat - please see me through
The whole thing quickly receding
My life disappearing - disappearing from view
Forever changed, forever changed
I left my old life behind and was forever changed
Forever changed
Fighter pilot you're losing the war again
When will you ever learn
Fighter pilot you're making a big mistake and setting a bad example
Fighter pilot tell me about your life and are the children well
Fighter pilot what do you do with yourself at night
When will you ever learn
Fighter pilot it's a summer of thunderstorms
The sky is black and blue you're a hero now
But you're a terrible man fighter pilot
Bandits here bandits there angels at ten o'clock
You're going down
Fighter pilot you're never coming in to land
Words and music: Lou Reed & John Cale
Faces and names, I wish they were the same
Faces and names only cause trouble for me
Faces and names
If we all looked the same and we all had the same name
I wouldn't be jealous of you or you jealous of me
Faces and names
I always fall in love with someone who looks
the way I wish that I could be
I'm always staring at someone who hurts
And the one they hurt is me
Faces and names, to me they're all the same
If I looked like you and you looked like me
There'd be less trouble you see
Faces and names I wish they'd go away
I'd disappear into that wall and never talk
Faces and names
I wish I was a robot or a machine
Without a feeling or a thought
People who want to meet the name I have
Are always disappointed when they meet me
Faces and names, I wish they were the same
Faces and names only cause problems for me
Faces and names
I'd rather be a hole in the wall - looking out on the other side
I'd rather look and listen, listen and not talk
To faces and names
I had a breakdown when I was a kid
I lost my hair when I was young
If you dress older when you're not, as your really age you look the same
If we all looked the same, we wouldn't play these games
Me dressing for you and you dressing for me - undressing for me
Faces and names if they all were the same
You wouldn't be jealous of me o me jealous of you
Me jealous of you - I'm jealous of you
Your face and your name
Your face and your name
Faces and names
If you wanna be the heart of midnight
You've gotta be either cynical or dead
All those you hold in estimation
You can no longer count among your friends
Your friends look to surprise you
As friends they always will
So hold on to the extraordinary - hold on to the skill
And start the easy listening, we're coming home again
Stab the back of hell and heroes until we meet again
Listen for the slamming doors
Listen on the ship to shore
Listen hard
Everytime the dogs bark
Like a milk-cow servant turning over in his grave
Turn off your headlights
Show me you're gonna be the sheriff of my heart
Heartbreaker, heartbreaker
The harder the woman
The colder the heart of the man
The harder the woman
The colder the heart of the man
Listen for the slamming doors
Listen on the ship to shore
Listen hard
Everytime the dogs bark
They're cowards of the moment who often miss their mark
They're so resentful of the wisemen with a hunger for the dark
So start the easy listening, we're coming home again
Stab the back of hell and heroes until we meet again
Oh Emily, I'd love to be
Down by the sea with you
Having tea with you
Walking hand in hand
On the shifting sands
Maybe we'll love again
Maybe we'll love again
Soon the time will come
When we must say
Goodbye my dear dear friend
Till we meet again
Though I'm far away
I'll still hear you say
Maybe we'll love again
Maybe we'll love again
Hold my hand
On the sand
And say once more
Like before
Maybe we'll love again
Maybe we'll love again
Maybe we'll love again
I've been chasing ghosts and I don't like it
I wish someone would show me where to draw the line
I'd lay down my sword if you would take it
And tell everyone back home I'm doing fine
I was with you down in Acapulco
Trading clothing for some wine
Smelling like an old adobe woman
Or a William Burroughs playing for lost time
I was thinking about my mother
I was thinking about what's mine
I was living my life like a Hollywood
But I was dying on the vine
Who could sleep through all that noisy chatter
The troops, the celebrations in the sun
The authorities say my papers are all in order
And if I wasn't such a coward I would run
I'll see you me when all the shooting's over
Meet me on the other side of town
Yes, you can bring all your friends along for protection
It's always nice to have them hanging around
I was thinking about my mother
I was thinking about what's mine
I was living my life like a Hollywood
But I was dying, dying on the vine
Words: Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Well it's too damn early and your eyes are bleeding
From the vicious bottle the night before
And the last thing you need is a nicety-nice
And small talk crawls out your ears
Maybe it makes you feel just like an undercover Sigmund Freud
I hear it makes you feel just like an undercover Sigmund Freud
Hey there, hey now, hey there, hey now
Well you can make a pacemaker blink, yeah, easy thing
Make a man's heart go bibbity-bom bippity-bom bippity-bom
Like a gentle drum
And knowing you it ain't ever done
So go on, go on, go on, darling, go on
Yeah go on, go on darling, go on, go on
Yeah, the secretaries and typewriters chattering away
Chatter-chatter-chatter-chatter
chatter-chatter-chatter, chatter away
It ought to make you sick when you hear a woman cry
When she don't get just whatever she wants
But not my woman, she just keeps on keeping on,
That's my woman, my woman
That moving on shuffle side to side
That sure can turn me on
Dirty ass rock'n'roll
Dirty ass rock'n'roll
Dirty ass rock'n'roll
Dirty ass rock'n'roll
Hey now, hey now, hey now, hey now
And the beach is a thing and the bees don't sting
Like complaining from a downtown whore
I got my plasma patches and my hypodermic in hermetically sealed kid gloves
Yeah tell me
Tell me tell me tell me tell me
Tell me
Tell me tell me tell me tell me
Dirty ass rock'n'roll
Dirty ass rock'n'roll
Dirty ass rock'n'roll
Dirty ass rock'n'roll
Woke up early this morning
Something wrong inside my head
Took a look around for breakfast
First thing I see is you're not there
So where were you, where were you?
Where were you, when I needed you?
Where were you, where were you?
When I needed you to see me through?
Oh something wrong, now what's gone wrong here
Looked in the mirror, broken white
Lucky to be alive and kicking
Kicking a lot of life around here
But where were you, where were you?
Yeah, where were you when I needed you?
Where were you, where were you?
When I needed you to see me through?
Ah, 'cause darling darling I need you
Yeah, darling darling I do
Darling darling I need you
Yes you know I do
Shefton brought me the message
Said you got out at Galveston
Church of Christ Jesus, Kentucky
Rattlesnakes and strychnine and prayer
So, where were you, where were you?
Yeah, where were you when I needed you?
Where were you, where were you?
When I needed you to see me through
Oh darling darling I need you
'Cause darling darling I do
Oh, darling darling I need you
Yes you know I do
Oh, yeah yeah yeah you know I do
Damn life
Damn life
What's it worth?
Damn life
Getting on without
This city
It's just self-pity
Damn life
You're just not worth it
You're just not worth the pain
They'll eat you alive
They'll drink the sweat from your brow
Eating the salt of the earth you'll never know
Oh no, respect
Respect
What's respect?
Cause and effect
Self respect
She was the one got left behind
She was the one got lost
Never took from anybody
Self-sufficient at any cost
No, nothing can break this heart of mine
It stands invincible all the time
You always get what you left behind
Seek and you shall find
Seek and you shall find
Damn life
So she's still wandering her heart away
Doesn't even know if it's night or day
And even if someone helped her up
She'd stand little hope
Of recognizing those friends she had
And in many, many ways
Those friends were glad
Cleo, Cleo, won't you come around and play girl
Cleo, Cleo, won't you come around and stay girl
You can find the lines to say, if you try
Someone else has just confessed
To drinking up all your wine.
Cleo, Cleo, there's a way for you to find out
How you should say, what you think is the way out
Will you, won't you, will you see me through
Maybe you could help me find a thing or two about you.
Cleo, Cleo, now's the time for you to tell me
If you, want to, you can leave it up to me girl
After you have told me what you wanna do
I could tell you, that I loved you, if I thought that it would be true.
Cleo, Cleo, Oh Cleo I want you, me oh my.
Oh Cleo I want you, me oh my.
instrumental
She was a princess, much lower than people thought
A master of nothing a mistress of something she thought
She could talk about things that never mattered ever
From one person's miserable life after another
She could talk to the French and Germans at will
They'd never listen
Calling out her name you'd be surprised at what came
Galloping out of the darkness like furniture
We'd have lost it all if it hadn't been for Cardinal Richelieu
And all his courtiers
The chinese envoy was here but left
The chinese envoy was here but left in his broken hearted pagoda
With mistletoe and candle green
To Halloween we go
Ten murdered oranges bled on board ship
Lends comedy to shame
The cattle graze bold uprightly
Seducing down the door
To saddle swords and meeting place
We have no place to go
Then wearily the footsteps worked
The hallelujah crowds
Too late but wait the long legged bait
Tripped uselessly around
Sebastopol Adrianapolis
The prayers of all combined
Take down the flags of ownership
The walls are falling down
A belt to hold
Columbus too, perimeters of nails
Perceived the Mamma's golden touch
Good neighbours were we all
The manager is waiting to be paid
Along with priests and deacons of his court
A quartermaster, quite a man, a mistress of the line
Has found a last cent avenue of pain
A Mardi Gras just passed this way a while ago
Making hungry people of us all
Along the Mississippi you can hear the fiddlers play
Fandangos and boleros to the lord
Many times, many tried,
Simple stories are the best
Keep in mind, the wishful kind,
Don't wanna be like all the rest.
My uncle was a vicar in the big parade
Selling fountain pens that never write
San Sebastian gamblers never cheat nor lie
They know good fences make good neighbours
I wish I knew what time of year it was What kind of people will be there When gruesome tales of two cities ran Running all the way Father might have heard his prayers were answered Inhibitions all the way from home Consider now, consider then before the deed is done The blood of consolation runs so true Many times, many tried, Simple stories are the best Keep in mind, the wishful kind, Don't wanna be like all the rest.
When the winter days are gone
Never find any summer breezes
Until you've gone through spring
Another way out of here
Another way out of here
Another way
Another way out of here
Cause I'm a lofty man
I'm a hungry man
Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be, gonna be some changes made round here
Another way
Another way out of here
Cause I'm a man who lives
Lives inside me
The children's caravan
moving slowly hand in hand
Knowing all it takes
Is a kind word
Is a kind word
Is a kind word
Ahhhhhhhh.......
Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be, gonna, gonna be some changes
There gonna be some changes
There gonna be some changes
There gonna be some changes
Gonna be a change
There gonna be some changes
There gonna be some changes
There gonna be some changes
There gonna be some changes made
There gonna be some changes made
There gonna be some changes made
I want to go home, I want to go home
I want to go back to Adelaide
It' s time for a change, don't want to be late
It's probably night in Adelaide
In a day or two, I'll be there asking for you
To come back to Adelaide with me
The weather there is so good.
So pass me the phone, I'll go it alone
I'll whistle my way to Adelaide
There's no time to cry, I'll be there tonight
The trains and the boats and planes are on time.
But before I go, I'm knock-knocking on your front door
Be sure to say good-bye to your friends
And to all my friends back home.
But before I go, I'm knock-knocking on your front door
Be sure to say good-bye to your friends
And to all my friends back home.
Oh, Adelaide, Adelaide, I want you tonight
Adelaide, Adelaide, I want you tonight
When Abilene was young and gay
And thunder storms filled up the day
The cattle roamed outside the town
Sleeping in the midday sun
Sleeping in the midday sun
Sleeping in the midday sun
Sleeping in the midday sun
Then tracks were lain across the plain
By broken old men in torrid rains
The towns grew up and the people were still
Sleeping in the midday sun
Sleeping in the midday sun
Sleeping in the midday sun
Sleeping in the midday sun
We all joined in and all joined hands
All joined in to help run this land
Then soldiers came, long long ago
Rode through the town and rode down those who were
Sleeping in the midday sun
Sleeping in the midday sun
Sleeping in the midday sun
Sleeping in the midday sun
Gold came and went, quickly spent
And the people broke down and often drowned
In the wealth and pain of old Abilene
Sleeping in the midday sun
Sleeping in the midday sun
Sleeping in the midday sun
Sleeping in the midday sun
Consternation on the dance-floor I can't take it anymore.
My ugly girl-friend has these big eyes, she's running out the door.
Get her back, the regulars cry.
All the bar-flies are going dry.
We need some business says the man reaching out with the greasy hand.
We need some business says the man with the broken heart.
Broken Hearts are good for business these days, broken hearts are good for business always.
Mass confusion on the turnpike, which way did the lady go?
Rumour has it she was flying through the toll-booth down the road.
Get her back, the troopers cry, all the judges need a boost, bad reviews in the daily news, and the
chickens come home to roost.
Broken Hearts are good for business these days, broken hearts are good for business always.
Everybody's praying for the rains to come
And the snow is gonna fall, down on me
Lost up in the desert with a gun in my hand
And the locust gonna come to find me.
Started long ago, in my paper cup saloon
And the back-room boys still carrying that same old tune
We've just one bottle left, standing on the shelf
I'd better bring it on up, I'd better bring it on up
Time to get the wagon, and in the back of the car
With the sherriff and me, singing out of key
Sooner then than later, I was up behind bars
With that empty bowl laughing right at me
Started long ago, in my paper cup saloon
And the back-room boys still carrying that same old tune
Just one bottle left, standing on the shelf
I'd better bring it on up, I'd better bring it on up
Everybody melting but the heat just won't affect ya
Backlot Casanovas and Black Russian defectors
Are here to take your picture away
I know you don't have space left on your windowsill
Black rose - long thorn
White rose - still born
Standing on the corner just baying at the moon
Just another little Miss Too-much-far-too-soon
Dreamstreet romance is not the same as burning love
You can light a thousand candles, you can wear your satin glove
And you can dance, dance, dance from here to Sunday
You can dance, dance, dance from here to Sunday
Black rose - long thorn
White rose - still born
Standing on the corner howling at the moon
Just another Little Miss Too-much-far-too-soon
When I stand, my back to the sea
A big white cloud, looking right down on me
Sound of sun, missing my eyes
Everything's clear, everything's bright
Big white cloud, big white cloud
Big white cloud on me
Big white cloud, big white cloud
Big white cloud on me.
Time to kill on the hill
Looking at bees, licking the trees
Looking for signs ....................
Oh how I love you,
Yes how I love you
Oh how I love you so.
Oh how I love you,
Yes how I love you
Oh how I love you so.
After all is said and done
Everything, is just like it began
Days that came, years again
Came in here once again
Oh how I love you,
Yes how I love you
Oh how I love you so.
Oh how I love you,
Yes how I love you
Oh how I love you so.
The paranoid great movie queen
Sits idly fully armed
The powder and mascara there
A warning light for charm
We see her every movie night
The strong against the weak
The lines come out and struggle with
The empty voice that speaks
Her heart is oh so tired now
Of kindnesses gone by
Like broken glasses in a drain
Gone down but not well spent
The road from Barbary to here
She sold then stole right back
The vanity, insanity her hungry heart forgave
The fading bride's dull beauty grows
Just begging to be seen
Beneath the magic lights that reach from
Barbary to here
Her schoolhouse mind has windows now
Where handsome creatures come to watch
The anaesthetic wearing off
Antarctica starts here
Sushi for Shabu. You keep calling me. You keep calling me.
Angel of Death. I have thought I heard you singing. Angel of Death. I have held
the flutter of your seductive wings. Angel of Death. I have seen you counting on
shadows. Angel of Death. I have watched you patiently waiting. Angel of Death.
Angel of Death. I have felt the heat and the power. Angel of Death. Emerging
from your deadly silver tune. Angel of Death. Reflections of disaster the morning
after. Angel of Death. The stories everyone sees through. Angel of Death.
Andalucia when can I see you
When it is snowing out again
Farmer John wants you
Louder and softer closer and dearer
Then again
Needing you taking you keeping you leaving you
In a year and a day to be sure
That your face doesn't alter
Your words never falter -- I love you
I'll be here waiting later and later
Hoping the night will go away
Andalucia Castles and Christians
Andalucia come to stay
You were lost, once before, on a day much like this
When you'd made up your mind not to come
And I couldn't persuade you
Or wait till tomorrow -- or pass the time
She's back from Amsterdam
And I think the journey did her well
Her face has lost it's touch
The tell tale signs of loneliness inside
But I love her still
And need her company still more
Come down, come down once more
And I think, the journey, did her well
She says she fell in love
With men who knew the way to treat a lady
Her life has settled for the best of things
That I couldn't give her
And it's not her fault, she's not the one to blame
Come down, come down, come down once more
And I do believe the journey did her well
Yes I do believe the journey did her well.
Words and music: Lou Reed & John Cale
It was a very cold clear fall night
I had a terrible dream
Billy Name and Brigid were playing under my stair case on the second floor about two o'clock in the morning
I woke up because Amos and Archie had started barking
That made me very angry because I wasn't feeling well and I told them I was very cross the real me that they just better remember what happened to Sam the bad cat that was left at home and got sick and went pussy heaven
It was a very cold clear fall night
Some snowflakes were falling
Gee, it was so beautiful
and so I went to get my camera to take some pictures
And then I was taking the pictures
but the exposure thing wasn't right
and I was going to call Fred or Gerry
to find out how to get set it
I was too late
and then I remembered they were still probably at dinner
and anyway
I felt really bad and didn't want to talk to anybody
but the snowflakes were so beautiful and real looking
and I really wanted to hold them
And that's when I heard the voices
from down the hall near the stairs
So I got a flashlight
and I was scared and I went out into the hallway
There's been all kinds of troubles
lately in the neighborhood
and someone's got to bring home the bacon and anyway
there were Brigid and Billy playing
And under the stair case
was a little meadow sort of like the park at 23rd street
where all the young kids go and play frisbee
Gee, that must be fun
maybe we should do an article on that in the magazine
but they'll just tell me I'm stupid and it won't sell
but I'll just hold my ground this time, I mean
it's my magazine, isn't it?
So I was thinking that as the snowflakes fell
and I heard those voices having so much fun
Gee, it would be so great to have some fun
So I called Billy
but either he didn't hear me or he didn't want to answer
which was so strange
because
even if I don't like reunions I've always loved Billy
I'm so glad he's working
I mean it's different than Ondine
He keeps touring with those movies
and he doesn't even pay us and the film
I mean the film's just going to disintegrate and then what
I mean he's so normal off of drugs
I just don't get it
And then I saw John Cale
he's been looking really great
He's been coming by the office to exercise with me
Ronnie said I have a muscle
but he's been really mean since he went to AA
I mean what does it mean
when you give up drinking and then you're still so mean
He says I'm being lazy but I'm not
I'm just can't find any ideas
I mean I'm just not
let's face it
going to get any ideas up at the office
And seeing John made me think of the Velvets
and I had been thinking about them
when I was on St. Marks Place
going to that new gallery those sweet new kids have opened
but the thought I was old
and then I saw the old DOM
the old club where we did our first shows
It was so great
And I don't understand about that Velvet's first album
I mean I did the cover
I was the producer
and I always see it repackaged
and I've never gotten a penny from it
How could that be
I should call Henry
but it was good seeing John
I did a cover for him
but I did in black and white and he change it to color
It would have been worth more if he'd left it my way
but you can never tell any body anything I've leaned that
I tried calling again to Billy and John
they wouldn't recognize me it was like I wasn't there
Why won't they let me in
And then I saw Lou
I'm so mad at him
Lou Reed got married and didn't invite me
I mean is it because he thought I'd bring too many people
I don't get it
could have at least called
I mean he's doing so great
Why doesn't he call me?
I saw him at the MTV show
and he was one row away and he didn't even say hello
I don't get it
You know I hate Lou
I really do
He won't even hire us for his videos
And I was proud of him
I was so scared today
There was blood leaking thought my shirt
from those old scars from being shot
And the corset I wear to keep my insides in was hurting
And I did three sets of fifteen pushups
and four sets of ten setups
But then my insides hurt
and I saw drops of blood on my shirt and I remember
the doctors saying I was dead
And then later they had to take blood out of my hand
'couse they ran out or veins
but then
all this thinking was making me an old grouch
and you can't do anything anyway so
if they wouldn't let me play with them in my own dream
I was just going to have to make another
and another
and another
Gee, wouldn't it be funny if I died in this dream
before I could make another one up
And nobody called
And nobody came
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