Ben Franklin

Ben Franklin,
Spymaster General for the
American Colonies;
he intercepted the mail.

Ben Franklin
raised money for the
Continental Army
by enlisting Louis the King.

Ben Franklin,
Grand Master of the
Nine Sisters;
John Paul Jones and Voltaire,
he met them there.

Hammer, chisel, rule,
three tools of the trade;
the Masons built the frame
for a free state.
Chisel guides the hammer,
both are measured by the rule.
The tools of the trade
became the branches of the state.

Ben Franklin
made friends with the
opposing generals,
Dashwood, Howe
and the Earl of Sandwich.

They were sympathetic
to the colonists' cause;
they believed in the
novus ordo seclorum.

Ben Franklin,
signer of the
Declaration and
Constitution.

Tuesday Weld

Tuesday Weld and Anna Karina
Are two of my favorite starlets
I would prefer you think of no one else
When I relay my exploits to you

Even though the story
Implies the person involved is
Shockingly young or frighteningly old
Or would be denied
The second lecherous glance of a Hollywood agent

Say hello to the sun king
I only endure these things
For your enjoyment

Henry Ford

He hated the farm
but loved the McCormick reaper:
it cleared the grain
faster than any man could.

He built the first gas engine
in his kitchen;
he cranked the flywheel
while his wife injected the fuel.

Wayward capitalist,
Patron Saint of the Industrial Age,
he doubled the wages,
started the eight-hour day.

He held my hand as we walked
from the farm to the factory.
From Dearborn to Detroit.

But he smashed the unions:
he hired gangsters to
bloody the leafletters.
He put men on the assembly line.

From Dearborn to Detroit.
We walked until we found
the Rouge River Plant.

A hundred stacks
dusted the land black;
the river bend shone
a petroleum rainbow.

And the sky was dark,
he knew this was sin.
Wherever he went,
the city followed him.

Ballad of a Rock Band

If they want us to tour half the year–
we’ll tour half the year.
If they ask us to pay for the video–
we’ll pay for the video.
We’ll welcome their producer,
their deaf, tanned seducer.
We’ll sign on their indie front,
write songs for the college punks.

Just don’t send us back to the sticks,
back to the sticks,
back to the sticks.

If they ask me to grow my hair–
I’ll grow my hair.
If they ask me to focus my image,
I think I’ll go vintage.
I’ll let the engineer
spread his shimmering veneer.
I promise to remember
to watch my temper.

Just don’t send us back to the sticks,
back to the sticks,
back to the sticks.

We're Gonna Win

what will we say
(if we lose)
to the voice that asks us
if we'd choose
to do it all over again
(noyes)

we are heroes
we are zeros

what will we say looking back
if we've won the game

we would say everything
worked out as planned
but would we choose
to do it all over again
(I will)

we are heroes
we are zeros

High Hopes

I went down to Los Angeles
to pass out some demo tapes.
I had high hopes and a sleeping bag.

I picked up my friend Dave
in Santa Barbara;
he's strong and warm
and carries in his pack
enough drugs to get us popped
for twenty years.
I had high hopes,
high hopes.

We met a stripper on Venice Beach,
strung out and on the street.
I asked her to come to Hollywood;
"Only if you buy me something to eat."

Over tempei and peach frugen
I found out how she hit the street:
the Mickeys bugged her Santa Monica flat;
neighbors, delivery boys
were all undercover.

We went into Hollywood
and found the place I used to live:
a stucco tenement house
overlooking the 110.

I paced the courtyard,
colored lights shone from behind the palm trees.
She did a strange dance by the poolside
and said: "I want to be a star-
I'll walk on Hollywood Boulevard
and the people will say:
'You're so lucky to be who you are.'"

Dave grabbed her in a twinning embrace;
I looked at my old place, number six,
the light was on and I felt a lonely ache.

I leaned over the water, caught sight of my face,
I wanted to hold myself, love myself.
She said "Let's get the hell out of this place."

We took the car back to the shore,
passed the bottle and listened to the traffic drone.
We collapsed on the sand, she pulled me close;
when I awoke, Dave and I were alone.

After two days of sleeping on the beach,
the drugs, the weather, the sand took its toll.
I never passed out my demo tapes;
I lost my address book and my presentable face.

I had high hopes,
high hopes.

Where Were You?

I was called to fight–
it was not my war,
but there is nowhere to hide
out here in the fields.

I joined the army ranks
and soon we marched
into the Russian snowdrifts,
in our leaky boots and summer coats.

On the way I saw four horsemen riding high
over scattered corpses and screaming fires.
Where were you?
I saw the angel of death walking
through burning schools and fallen spires.
Where were you?

They said victory was near–
but I lasted less than a week,
I fainted at the sight of fear,
I deserted in the night.

I walked from Moscow to Warsaw;
I stayed here in this ravaged town
because I didn't have
the strength to move on.

A seven-headed beast poured seven plagues
on the guilty and innocent alike.
Where were you?
I saw a Devil steal the seventh seal,
and with it he raped Babylon the Great.
Where were you?

The situation here is desperate:
the horses are slaughtered for meat,
you can't even walk on the street,
there's no one to set us straight–
I can't only believe in myself–-
Where are you?

You Won't Hang Me

I shaved my head,
I pierced a chain from my
tongue to my nose.

I was so alone,
I invented a world
of pure love.

When I wore women's clothes,
the skinheads beat me up;
when I wore jack boots,
the hippies spat on my face.

When they extinguished
my love, the fires sparked up:
I lit the fields on fire,
I drove a tractor into the school.

I ran to the freeway
and hitched my thumb.
A bus full of convicts passed by;
I saw their young faces,
and they sighed: resignation.

That's not for me,
you won't hang me.
I'll squirm away
and jump into the sea-
out where the jellyfish breed
and the sharks breathe water.
I'll swim so deep,
my head'll explode.
I'll swim so far,
I'll hit the ice-flows.

Out on the breakers:
standing, shivering.
I feel good by the sea:
the air breeds clarity.
If I stay on the breakers,
they won't hang me.
I'll squirm away
and jump into the sea-
out where the jellyfish breed
and the sharks breathe water.

Waiting for Allison

There lives a maniac
above my apartment.
In the day, he walks the yard;
he seems pretty content.

But at night, he screams so loud,
it sounds like he's in my kitchen.
when the screams subside,
he starts to weeping.

Allison lives across the street,
she's a red-haired nurse.
She said I should speak to her,
if things get worse.

When she comes home from work,
I'll ask her to come up tonight.
I could be her assistant;
we'd kneel by the bedside.

At daybreak we'd walk together,
she'd invite me into her house.
We could watch some television,
and fall asleep on her couch.

I'm looking out my window,
down on the Lower Mission;
I'm waiting for Allison;
he's quiet now, but it's almost night.

Billy Dale Hunt, Salesman (Part 2)

BILL
I’m pissed off, watching Hard Copy
and waiting for my gin-soaked wife.
The bomb in the van was a sign:
I have to change my life.
I’d rather die doing something I believe
than live out my days on the road,
closing sales, drinking alone.

BILL STANDS, KICKS OVER THE TELEVISION
AND BARRELS INTO THE BEDROOM TO PACK.

Enter a CHORUS of ANGELS
Sleep, sleep, embalming sleep,
cover him up, but don’t let him dream,
we are the Angels of Earthly Peace
sent to smother wandering sheep.

THE ANGELS SCATTER SPARKLING BLUE POWDER
OVER BILL: HE DROPS TO HIS KNEES.

Sleep, sleep, embalming sleep,
cover him up, but don’t let him dream,
dreams only lead to foolish schemes...

Between Akron and Cann

All the best bands I know
are withering on the vine,
dead before their time, I see,
including mine.

Out on the road, driving
town to town, show to show.
A lovely way to see the country,
and, oh, all those nice people you meet.

Everything was fine,
until that stretch of road,
between Akron and Cann,
in Ohio.

I lost my faith on that
lowly stretch of interstate.
We're just one more band
in the land of infinite bands.
Blank stares, empty chairs, nobody cares.
We're just one more band
in the land of infinite bands.
Out of money, low on gas,
when I get back I'll be
working full-time.

I tried, I tried, I tried, I've done my best.
I tried, I tried, but I need the rest.

Back home in San Francisco,
I walked from cafe to bar to bookstore,
it didn't do a thing for me.
I walked from club to park to quarter show,
there's nothing for me here.

Let's book another tour–
I've changed my mind–
just remember to avoid
that stretch of road
between Akron and Cann
in Ohio.

Justine

Justine,
you and me
started out
so sweet,

but dark days
are here again,
you and me
will never be.

I hope you never meet
the man who stalks your street,
but I hope you can feel
a sickly presence coming near.

Justine,
tell me true,
have you ever blown through
a hollow reed?

Black days
have come again,
I've nothing to do,
but wait hopelessly for you.

Justine,
you and me
started out
so sweet.

To all of you
who have subtly conspired
against me and mine–
I'm warning you: I'd kill us all
if I didn't have
to stick around,
if I didn't have
to wait for you.

The Last Time I Saw Lewis

We took some acid in the parking lot of the BBQ-Iguana. Inside, Speculum Death
played generic hardcore to a young, violent crowd. The room was dangerously crowded.
The acid set in, Lewis became agitated and left. Except for a few panhandlers
and police cruisers, the streets were empty. He ran to the car and drove to
St. Anthony's Hospital. Lewis walked into the emergency room: "Please sedate me,
I'm having a bad trip." The nurse shot back: "You'll have to wait, there's been a train accident."
The bodies, most bloody, some screaming, poured through the door.
He stood up, necessity canceled fear: he helped with the stretchers, held hands, reassured pale faces. He greeted relatives as they arrived.
Lewis stayed there for hours: no one died.

I found him walking down 14th St. at four in the morning,
looking like Heston's Moses coming down from the mountain;
"Where ya been?"
"In a train wreck."

Ricochet

Trouble, trouble in my mind.

I've been staring at the screen saver,
and I lost track of time.
Fuzzy, colored balls fall from the sky,
they bounce and roll and ricochet,
but I never move.

Trouble, trouble in my mind.

Insipid thoughts dart across my mind,
they sound, echo back, but don't penetrate too deep.
They keep me from thinking about
the things that would really burn me out, you see,
the unthinkable underneath.

Trouble, trouble in my mind.

While rebel armies press on,
embassies are blown to bits, then fixed.
Surveillance video is digitized, archived.
Is there a history for things never seen or heard?
For thoughts that just ricochet?

Tidal Wave

We were standing on the beach
in soft effects-damp, light, and hazy heat.
We were two of hundreds
sharing waves, sand and radio bands.

Men sped by in jeeps,
screaming through bullhorns:
"Run to the hills,
a tidal wave is coming!"

No one moved a bit,
this scared the living shit out of me.
I ran up to the hills,
where well-connected friends live on the cliff.

They had seen the news
on closed-circuit TV.
They told me to chill,
the wave could never reach the hills.

I turned on the screen,
the people on the beach stood on the wake.
I could not believe-
they were down there chanting, pumping fists.

But the wave didn't move.
A hundred feet high,
the wave stood upright,
frozen off the shore,
like it was molded in plastic.

In an apartment in the hills,
I watched it on the screen.
They were down there chanting on the beach,
in soft effects-damp, light, and hazy heat.

Coming Down

Tremor, flicker,
quiver, shudder,
shiver, flutter,
miss a beat,
catch up, miss a beat.

I'm finally coming down.
What makes me
put that stuff in my mouth?

If I could only throw up,
or sweat it out of my sweaty hands.
For hours and hours I tried
to squeeze out every microgram.

Tremor, flicker,
quiver, shudder,
shiver, flutter,
miss a beat,
catch up, miss a beat.

Who do you call up
when you're out of you're mind.
I call my mother,
but she wasn't home this time.