Erewhon, 1996

Obsession.
If the river's dry.
If the treaty's broken.
If they call the law and the law has spoken.
Don't say I never loved you.
Don't say I never tried.
Don't say I never loved you.
My, oh my, I guess I do.

When you testify in the court of... Who?!
That you cannot love me -
I got no hold on you.
You won't see a haunted man.
You won't be able to look into his eyes.
You won't see a haunted man -
but my, oh my, I guess I am

Now do I look like gum to you?
How do I look like gum to you?
And this will chew me up, I said.
Then I said, This will spit me out.
This will step on me.
Will I stick to you?
Do I look like gum?
My, oh my, I guess I do.

My, oh my, I guess I do.

So, how do I feel the pain?
So, how do I feel the pain?
If I said I missed you -
What?! Would I feel again?
My, oh my, here comes the rain.
Let me stand in it!
(I didn't mean that!)
(I didn't mean that!)

At the back of the world,
by the base of the sea,
World is comin apart,
comin apart on me.
At the back of the world,
by the base of the sea,
ball is comin apart,
comin apart on me.
I try to grab it,
just try to grab it.
My fingers stretch -
can't hold it.
I just can't hold it.
Just can't hold it.
Just can't hold it.
Too tired to fight -
who will referee?
I need a referee.
Too tired to fight -
who will referee?
Who will referee?
At the back of the world,
by the base of the sea,
it's comin apart,
comin apart on me.
I try to grab.
My fingers stretch.
Just can't hold it.
Too tired to fight.
I need a referee.
Who will referee?
I need a referee.
Who will referee?
Too tired.
Writers: Thomas-Moliné.
© 1996 Bug Music.
Lyrics by David Thomas.



Planet Of Fools
Original idea: Kevin Coyne
Every day I think about that better world.
This one's not the one it's supposed to be.
I've concluded that somewhere past Mars is a planet of fools
I know.
Somewhere past Mars there's a planet of fools
I know.

Nobody will talk about it but I know
there's a slip in the time and space continuum.

I'm convinced because I woke up one day
and nothing made a speck of sense anymore.

And every day I think about that better world
I conclude that somewhere past Mars is a planet of fools
I know.
Somewhere past Mars is a planet of fools, I know.

Oh, why should we live here in tears, in tears?
Why should we live here in tears?

Somewhere past Mars there's a planet of fools.

Writers: Thomas-Moliné.
© 1996 Bug Music.
Lyrics by David Thomas.


Nowheresville.
I found my thrill in Nowheresville.
I found my thrill in Nowheresville.
The mayor calls to ask me my will.
The chief of police has said,
"No one was killed.
"There's nothing here that cannot be fixed.
"There's no one to blame when your eyes have played you tricks."

If you lived here you'd be home now.
Why don't you come home too?
Why don't you come home too?

Number Six goes into town.
Nobody minds - just don't hang around.

If you lived here you'd be home now,
Nowheresville.
Nowhere I go gets me farther from...
Nowhere I go gets me farther from...

Someday I hope.
Someday I hope.

Somebody saw her down by the river,
crying aloud about an indian giver.
"Don't you do what I have done.
"I stood on my pride, played deaf and dumb."

If you lived here you'd be home now,
Nowheresville
Nowhere I go gets me farther from...
Nowhere I go gets me farther from...
Nowhere I go...
Writers: Thomas-Moliné-Diagram.
© 1996 Bug Music.
Lyrics by David Thomas.



Fire.
Last night the river went callin.
Like a train when it jumps the tracks how it roared thru the night -
vowed to never go back!
I hear the rivermen cry,
"We never knew peace."
Are we like a house made of dry grass?
People pass, sayin,
"Man, it won't last -
See the fire and sparks spittin fire and smoke."

Last night the river went callin.
How it pushed thru the awful black -
boats of gold hanging by their fiery stacks!
I heard the rivermen cry, said
"We never know peace.
"Will we never know peace?"
Are we like a house made of dry grass?
People pass -
"Man, It won't last."
See the fire & spark spittin fire & smoke.

Last night I dreamed that I was falling.
"Where do we go?" I said to myself,
"If I call your name & you answer cryin?"
We never knew peace.
Will we never know peace?
Or are we like a house made of dry grass?
People pass, sayin "Man, it won't last!"
See the fire & sparks spittin fire!
Fire.
Fire.
Fire.
Fire.
Fire.
Writers: Cutler-Jones-Krauss-Maimone-Ravenstine-Thomas.
©1989 Bug Music.
Lyrics by David Thomas.



Lantern.
When the land is like a mirror.
When the land is like a mirror,
smokestack lightnin is the color of the sky.

When the moon is like a river.
When the moon is like a river,
there's a shack on the levee where the watchmen hide.

When the sun is like a lantern,
when the sun is like a lantern,
smoke is in the hole where the twilight shows.

When your tears are like a woman.
When your tears are like a woman,
they must dance in the dust of the neon land.

When the land is like a mirror,
and the moon is like a river -
then the tears are like a woman.
Writers: Thomas-Moliné-Diagram.
© 1996 Bug Music.
Lyrics by David Thomas.



Morbid Sky.
In my head the morning never comes.
Sadly we go, never come back again.
Them days I feel like a motherless child
marking time under the morbid sky.

The heart,
the heart is a lonely man.
And hands,
they roll out, they roll up again.

Somehow I know you and I were never meant to be.
You and I, like flowers under a morbid sky.
You and I, strangers under a morbid sky
marking time under a morbid sky.

Slowly, slowly we dance,
turning, waltzing.
Waltz across to Texas.
Yeah, we waltz by the sea.

"Liar"
I heard only raindrops
burst in the dust - hard.
burst in the dust - apart.

In my head the morning never comes.
Though we wait the daylight never shows.
Ever.
Ever!
Writers: Thomas-Moliné.
© 1996 Bug Music.
Lyrics by David Thomas.



Weird Cornfields.
I said that I would miss you.
I said that I would not forget.
I said that I would miss you.
Yeah, I guess that I do.
One day is much like another.
Some days look the same.
Well, this is my tragic ending -
I got what I wanted.

There's a township road that crosses a girder bridge outside of Meadville.
In the flats of French Creek corn is standing in harvested rows -
dry & bonelike in the moonlight.
The corn is creaking.
It's like the sound of floorboards creaking in the dark.
It's like there's something that's trying to be said.
The harvest moon is rising,
pale & harvest-like in the sky.
It's like the end of the world tonight in paleness.
And something is nagging at me.

In the haunted house of a coupe de ville.
I was saying,
How. How. How.
This is how it ends.

And in this own nightmare of mine there's a cornfield that travels with me,
In the backseat.
Cross the paleness It stretches to infinity.
It's like every damned thing that I have ever done wrong.
And you are there.

In the haunted house of a coupe de ville -
Saying,
How. How. How.
And this is how it ends.
Writers: Thomas-Moliné-Diagram.
© 1996 Bug Music.
Lyrics by David Thomas.



Kathleen.
Somewhere near, somewhere far -
somewhere down the street past the local bar.
Shot & beer kinda homey place.
Go inside, show my face.
It's someone I barely know.
A poet with a heart of gold.
Kathleen
Why don't you call my name?
Kathleen,
call me.

Well, I dropped out of line, past my prime.
Slave to a way of life.
I'm just the world that time forgot.
I'm a skittle bowl social swirl.
Bowl of chili.
Onion rings.
And the check on time, please.
Miss.
Ma'am.
You.
And a Rolling Rock.
Kathleen.
Why don't you call my name?
Kathleen.
Baby, call me

"Ladies and Gentlemen,
"Let me tell you about self-pity.
It's a terrible, terrible thing to waste."

No one hears me tell the truth.
I've lost the track of time, blush of youth.
I'm just the sort of fella to tell a story to.
Waiting at a bus stop,
banging on a desktop,
I long to see you.
Kathleen.
Call me.
Kathleen.
Call me.

They call me Old Man River.
You call me Old Man River.
I roll.
I said I roll.
I said I roll therefore I am.
- Wheeze -
It's Old Wheezer comin down the street...

Somewhere near, somewhere far -
somewhere down the street it's past the local bar.
It's a shot & beer kind of homey place.
And I go inside I show my face.
It's someone I barely know.
There's a poet.
There's a heart of gold.
They're both lookin at a glass of foam.
Well, I'm not the poet.
You know that I'm not a glass of foam!
I've got a heart of gold.
I've got a heart of gold.
I've got a heart of gold.
I've got a heart of gold.
I've got a heart of gold.

Heart of gold.
Heart of gold.
Writers: Jones-Krauss-Maimone-Thomas.
©1993 Bug Music.
Lyrics by David Thomas.

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