(click title to listen)
Child, I would tell you a story now,
but it’s lost inside my mind.
It’s the story how I landed here
on a summer’s eve, from a lavender sky.
It’s the story of falling in a field,
eyes glued shut,
time knocked from your mind.
It’s the story of the opening eye,
the tentative hand,
the slow slow crawl of a black and foreign sky.
It’s the story of the boot in the face,
the head on the earth,
the small green plants that dance before your eyes.
It’s the story of their whispering words,
their delicate songs,
the glistening laces that they leave behind.
Oh, I don’t want to die here!
I want to get back to the place I knew before
to see my mother again, to sleep by the hearth-fire
nestled like a baby on her floor.
Orphan, let me tell you it’s a slippery world
if you’re lost on the road of men.
With less than a hammer to call your own,
do you think you’ll make it back to the ship again?
Sage sage, if i shut my eyes, is there any chance
I could feel the world again?
Jade jade, in a poppy field, is there any chance
I could dream myself again?
Oh, I don’t want to die here!
I want to get back to the place I knew before
to see my mother again, to sleep by the hearth-fire
nestled like a baby on her floor.
Officer, I have nothing to say- you can lock me away
if that’s what you do with the beggars
who collapse upon your door.
It won’t be much different, anyway,
from the prison that I’ve known since I landed
on earth’s floor.
And though my memory fills like a dusky stream
you bring back the scent of a man I knew before.
But your arms are not strong, there’s no place to rest,
no heart like a pillow, no eyes that hinge like a door.
Oh, I don’t want to die here!
I want to get back to the place I knew before
to see my mother again, to sleep by the hearth-fire
nestled like a baby on her floor.
Child child, you remember my name and we’ll
hope to meet on the gold gold beaches of the shore,
above the billowing clouds through the yellow summer sun,
through the eye of the sky where it hinges on the future like a door.
Oh, I don’t want to die here!
I want to get back to the place I knew before
to see my mother again, to sleep by the hearth-fire
nestled like a baby on her floor.
The avant garde
a show you’ve never seen
to tap the jar
of homosexuality
Into the night
upon electric wings
a sodomite
and all the organisms that he brings
Go far man
fly through the jar
like a free man
be who you are
Fluorescent lights
he turns away from you
into the night
to drink that mountain dew
The lightning rod
upon his limousine
a smile and a nod
all the things I’ve never seen
Go far man
fly through the jar
like a free man
be who you are
I walk on shaking legs
my mind is hypnotized
balancing on wooden pegs
all the things I’ve never tried
To chase a star
to search in darkness for that door
another world
I don’t believe in anymore, man
Fly through the jar
like a free man
be who you are.
White house on the prairie
That’s me on the inside
That’s me with my back against the door
That’s me you see squatting on the floor
I think my feet have gotten too long
They’re throwing crazy shadows on the living room floor.
Well the jokerman he don’t come around here no more.
That four poster bed belongs to me
I sleep there all alone
I drew a scowling face on every poster
So I wouldn’t feel alone.
Sometimes in the nighttime I just
I leave my bed and I lie on the floor.
Well the jokerman he don’t come around here no more.
Sometimes I sit by the window
But I keep the shutters closed
I just stare at the kitchen table
and I frown at some crumbs they must be old
Cause I ain’t got me no money no more
Its been days since I been to the grocery store.
Well the jokerman he don’t come around here no more.
I sit on the living room sofa
and tug at the neck of my blouse
The ceiling fan is whirling overhead
But I’m just so hot inside my blouse
I wish I had me some hobbies to play with
But games can’t entertain me no more
Well the jokerman he don’t come around here no more.
I removed the numbers from my house
I shut the mailbox with glue
I gave my telephone to charity
But orphans don’t tug at my heartstrings no more
I don’t care about no refugees
I don’t give a fuck about the poor
I don’t care about other countries
I don’t care about no war
When jokerman lived here we used to spend all day
Just bouncing around on the floor.
When he ran out to buy some beer I’d just
I’d laugh until he came back through the door.
But the jokerman he don’t come around here no more.
Ain’t no reason for me to cry
I ain’t got no friends to be crying for
I just keep one hand on my chest
And I keep my eyes on the floor
I shuffle my feet alot
But there ain’t no one to be shuffling for.
Yeah the jokerman he don’t come around here no more.