1. |
Seventeen
04:31
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Everything we knew was wrong.
Walk out the door and slam the screen.
We were only seventeen.
So long, so long, so long ago.
Living in the shadow of the S.A.T.’s,
drinking apple vinegar we thought was wine.
The war back then was fine with me.
So long, so long, so long ago.
So long, so long, so long ago.
So long, so long ago.
So maybe you remember Rohner Park,
black but for the light above the bridge.
Sitting on the swings, half in the dark,
laughing at things so wrong, so great, so long ago.
So long, so long ago.
Every joke we told was cribbed,
stolen from a late-night show
and said as if it were ad-libbed.
So long, so long, so long ago.
And maybe you remember how
the adults then sung a bittersweet song
with the same words that I’m singing now:
‘so long, so long, so long ago. ’
So long, so long ago.
So maybe you remember Rohner Park
before it was a park and just a field,
where, prior to the diamonds, grasses wild
were growing?
Was it so wrong, or great, so long ago?
So long, so long ago.
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2. |
Year of the Dog
04:35
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Look how well a dog
can impersonate a man
and learn a set of rules
and seem by sheer obediency
to rise to great success;
it wouldn't matter if he ran
through a maze or for the presidency.
Give him a reward,
the one who best remembers all
the platitudes, the master of etcetera,
acquired at the School of Pate de Fois Gras.
You may already recognize your ideal son-in-law?
Look how well the dogs
have risen, every one of them, to greatness,
the standard now for greatness
being someone with whom you can have a beer.
Man of the year, year of the dog,
man of the year.
And when it's time to factor out who's best,
which actor will it be?
These are their days
the dogs are having now.
These are their days
the dogs are having now.
These are their days.
Drawing to the close
of a catastrophic term,
the man of the year proposed
that he assume the mantle
permanently.
The electorate rose
and then began
barking their approval of his well-tailored clothes.
But this can’t last.
Their fall is near.
This time next year,
I’ll be nostalgic for the past
when it’s the year of the pig.
Oh, have I mentioned whom we’ll toast that year?
Only the most conventional prigs.
These are their days
the dogs are having now.
These are their days
the dogs are having now.
These are their days.
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3. |
Birdman
03:44
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You thought you’d be plucking
the fruit from the vine;
now you’re picking your shoes from a tree.
The colors of autumn,
how seldom you see them
in dining room table leaves.
Commuter pushing
the gas pedal in
and honking your horn, half-berserk.
Just go around me
if you’re so keen to win
the race to work whose prize is work.
Remember the days
before M.B.A.’s
when you swore what you’d grow up to do.
I thought you said ‘astronaut,’
or was it ‘corporate bond analyst?’
Every young boy’s dream come true.
Every young boy’s dream—
And did you dream that someday
you would have your own parking space, too?
I’m a singing, jobless birdman
following my interests.
The bullet points on your agenda
make up my to-not-do lists.
I’ve been an unqualified success
in an unemployed kind of way,
and I’m still flying high.
Just look out your office window,
you may see me flying by...
if your office had a window.
I’m a singing, jobless birdman.
I’m a singing, jobless birdman.
I've had an uninterrupted streak
of unable-to-come-into-work-today’s,
but you know how I try.
Just look out your office window,
you may see me flying by...
if your office had a window.
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4. |
Natalia
02:17
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After waiting so long,
nearly this year and last,
how surprising to finally hear.
If you’d called in July,
I’d have arrived so damn fast,
you’d still have the phone to your ear.
I’m shocked that you phoned now, Natalia,
and intrigued by your tone now, Natalia,
but I’m not alone now, Natalia.
Natalia, hello.
Did you think I would wait?
Did you think I’d come running
when you’d worked through your backlog of men?
You’re half-right: just a month sooner,
I’d have been so damn willing
to endure that nightmare again.
So you’ve reappeared now, Natalia,
and you sound so sincere now, Natalia,
but there’s someone else here now, Natalia.
Natalia, hell no.
It’s your turn to crawl now, Natalia,
and stare at the wall now, Natalia.
Thanks a lot for calling now, Natalia.
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5. |
Ballad of the Homer Spit
03:39
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So I ask where home is.
Javier shows me his;
where it's parked,
and it creaks in the wind.
The rust color of carp,
the one covered with tarp,
though it don't stop the rain leaking in.
No, it don't stop the rain leaking in.
If you can't find him there,
try the packing plant where
he's got use of a functioning sink.
He gets a mason jar full.
It's more or less potable.
Oh, how awesome to always have water to drink.
It's awesome to always have water to drink.
If mildew and fish make you ill,
you may wish you were still
in the States staying clean.
But some guys feel the lure
(think of flies and manure).
Come on out to the Spit
and you'll know what I mean.
There's a girl from the East,
must be sixteen, at least.
In the bar, she's the fisherman's dread.
She's too small to be caught.
Still, the halibut's not
the only one with two eyes on one side of its head,
the only one with two eyes on one side of its head.
They can't help, can't help but note
that she's got on a man's overcoat.
It's a startling addition to a limited wardrobe
each man in the bar knows by rote.
The next morning I go
down the camper-shell row,
but find Javier absent from his.
Through the cracked windowpane
I see a bucket for rain.
Yeah, rainwater, that's what I hope that it is.
Rainwater, that's what I hope that it is.
And then I hear his farewell
from the neighboring shell
and Javier steps out into the street.
Although filthy and drawn,
he's got the overcoat on,
and he's the envy of the entire halibut fleet,
the envy of the entire halibut fleet,
of me and the entire halibut fleet.
If mildew and fish
make you ill, you may wish
you were still in the States staying clean.
But some guys feel the lure
(think of flies and manure).
Come on out to the Spit
and you'll know what I mean.
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6. |
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I put my tent up, put myself on parade;
arrange myself among my projects arrayed.
Give her a picture of her that I made;
hope she can’t tell the firelight from cavern-wall shade.
I sing and dance and finally she’s overawed.
Build myself up to look impressive and broad.
All my pretty fireworks, she admires them though flawed.
How long until she finds them tiresome?
Oh, god.
I’m the king of colored pens and string
with a pair of handmade wings
and the air of real integrity construction paper brings.
She put her wall up and held out a bit.
I lined my projects up and bombarded it.
This is the crater where most of them hit.
Should take a while for her to crawl out of it.
But I’ll stall the unavoidable and hold my place.
Nobody come behind this curtain,
or you know whose wrath you’ll face?
I’m the lord of all I can afford.
Oh, the debts I have ignored.
The winner of the dishes-in-the-bathroom-sink award.
I’m the king of colored pens and string
with a pair of handmade wings
and the air of real integrity construction paper brings.
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7. |
U.S.A. L.L.C.
03:10
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The candidates go head-to-head.
Isn’t democracy great?
As for the heads of the heads of the State,
there’s not much debate,
‘cause nobody votes for them.
Hail to the chiefs of the chiefs,
whose lapdogs are our leaders.
No ballot for the seats on the board
of the U.S.A. L.L.C.
The government, under new management,
adopts the ideals of the dollar store.
But these are the times of the sign
when the old bottom line
has a new double underscore.
Hail to the chiefs of the chiefs.
Hear the office-seekers singing
loudly in praise of the King of Kings,
while in the pay of the kings
of the king and queen.
Hail to the chiefs of the chiefs.
They out-Herod Herod.
Oh, say can you see the real C.E.O.’s
of the U.S.A. L.L.C.?
Oh, say can you see the real C.E.O.’s
of the U.S.A. L.L.C.?
Undeniable how well the country has run
as the private concern of a few.
Fewer citizens suing for rights they are due from the company
now that nobody’s liable.
Hail to the chiefs of the chiefs
with their hold on the office-holders.
They all bought and sold
the good employees
of the U.S.A. L.L.C.
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8. |
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9. |
Fires In Glendale
04:11
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The sky turns the loveliest shade
thanks to fires in Glendale
and the waste that they laid.
The harsh sunlight, partially grayed,
and the glare on the billboards
is pleasantly fading.
Oh, no, I’m not too concerned
a hundred houses have burned...
just look what they made.
I was terribly bored
when I gratefully heard
news of San Fernando on fire
and passing news helicoptors requiring
supplies of human suffering for fuel,
as do you and I.
As do you and I.
If California fell in the sea,
I’d be watching the news as the saltwater rose.
Don’t bother rescuing me.
I’ll be watching myself
not emerge from my house on T.V..
And the ratings will surge,
after we are submerged,
on submarine shows.
It's so horrible though,
the humanity—oh,
can you videotape the slaughter?
My VCR's underwater,
already human tragedy-cued,
as are you and I.
As are you and I.
And if the flow of dead celebrities
should suddenly slow
and South America go planecrash-free,
what will we do with ourselves?
I don’t know.
‘Cause every time it seems
as if nothing’s gonna burn
and we’re right down to the wire,
the sky, it turns the loveliest shade,
the sky turns the loveliest shade
thanks to fires in Glendale.
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10. |
Upside-Down Boat
01:39
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I'm on an upside-down boat
on an upside-down ocean
with right-side-up memories
of a right-side-up girl
on the night-side of the world.
Does she still remember me?
She was ninety-nine point nine-nine
percent what I wanted
and ninety-nine point nine-nine of me
couldn't see any point
in in my anymore wandering,
but point-aught-one disagreed,
so I'm on an upside-down boat
on an upside-down ocean
with right-side-up memories
of a right-side-up girl
on the night-side of the world.
Does she still remember me?
Does she still remember me?
Does she still wear those dresses
just shy of what's necessarily
labeled 'indecent?'
Oh, how
does she look lying in bed tonight?
I'll have to ask the right-side-up man
whom she shares it with now.
I'm on an upside-down boat
on an upside-down ocean
with right-side-up memories
of a right-side-up girl
on the night-side of the world.
Does she still remember me?
Does she still remember me?
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11. |
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Is this fruition of my college years,
arriving in an envelope, business-size, Sallie Mae
Corporation letterhead?
‘This is to inform you that you
haven’t made a payment on your loan since the winter of,’ italicized,
‘1997.’
‘If at this time you cannot make
the monthly payment we set,
you’ll be required to remit
to us the balance in full.’
You know, I don’t think I’ll pay.
What kind of fool
would feed the beast that swallows its young?
Would feed the beast that swallows its young?
Clearly, eighteen isn’t old enough to drink
but old enough to sign a promissary... interesting. Military?
Sure, join up.
And who can put a pricetag on a top-notch education?
How about $50,000? $80,000?
Well, that’s just for the textbooks.
But what exactly is the consequence should I refuse to pay?
Is there still a Dickensian debtor’s prison? Oh, there isn’t?
Well...
‘If at this time you cannot make
the monthly payment we set,
we’ll be required to revoke what every citizen fears:
your card for digging your hole deeper in debt
to the beast that swallows its young,
to feed the beast that swallows its young,
to feed the beast that swallows its young,
swallows its young.
Everyone must go to university.
Without a good degree,
how will you pay the lenders
who staked you while attending university?
And everyone must grow the university.
This is to inform you that I’ll never make a payment.
This is to inform you that I’ll never make a payment
to the beast that swallows its young.
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