No Great Lost: Songs, 1979-1985
Lyrics (To download all lyrics as a pdf document, click here.)
1. 911
2. AG
3. Tootsie 1
4. Tootsie 2
5. 20,000 Years in Sing Sing
6. Giovinezza
7. Creep
8. Saturn
9. Private Sector
10. Somewhere Over the Rainbow (instrumental)
11. Fourth of July
12. Sharks
13. Timelife
14. Mona (Live)
15. Nam
16. Clear Title
17. 9148 (instrumental)
18. Louie, Louie
19. Nadine
20. Oktyabrina
21. Cars and Explosions
Bodybag a body and you’ll find another body;
Swiss accounts and vast amounts, and paperwork all shoddy.
Life is full of signals; life is full of “Life is full.”
We could get a reading if we only had the pull.
“Mean”, then on to “meaner”, on to “meanest”, back to “meaner”;
mailbox snakes and dumb mistakes, and one day a subpœna.
Sense is what you make it; sense is what you sense is what.
We could get a hearing with a thirty-second spot.
In old San Francisco,
Down in the poorer zone,
life’s almost religious
if you can find a phone
in its shocking richness
there’s nothing to condone;
if they like your tone,
you’ll go home alone.
Nine-eleven, nine one one,
thanks for the fewer leading to the none ...
Troubleshoot some trouble, and you’ll just define more trouble;
oversights and almost-rights degrade in days to rubble.
This, not that, makes sense now; “this, not that” makes this not that.
We can just forget it till we sit where Huntley sat.
In untouched Guyana,
under a Kool-Aid™ sky,
God and Man and Santa
all quickly putrefy.
In the zones of manna,
there’s just that grade-school try
to avoid that sigh
with that do-or-die.
Nine-eleven, nine one one,
thanks for the freedom to be not much fun ...
thanks for the feeling that what’s done’s not done ...
thanks for the fewer leading to the none ...
it was a quiet romance
brown Weejuns, blue Gants
and her John Romain
we are much more vain
another quiet romance
they hated blind chance
in the week before
nineteen sixty-four
it was that quiet romance
which history grants
when the lights first dim
we are not like them
Rising vampires and falling empires
(I didn’t have to make that up) ...
deployed around the loving cup ...
an arrogant and careless pup ...
upset ’em so they set him up.
it was a quiet romance
A-lines and cuffed pants
and a bug-eyed Sprite
we are not less trite
another quiet romance
not an aberrance
just before the war
’sixty-three and –four
You’re never too old to fall in love,
to wonder when push will come to shove;
you’re never too old to fall in love again.
You’re never too old to mope and pine.
to substitute that for slow decline;
you’re never too old to fall in love again.
One gets this headache in one’s head —
one frankly wishes one were dead —
whenever one sees that picture
in that vanity-Prestype magazine.
(One thinks one thinks too much
for someone who’s got just one thought
and not much stake except in on called “you”.)
One gets this heartache in one’s heart
when stop’s implied in every start,
and there at the end’s the stricture
that will shut it down quick and quiet and clean.
(One knows one knows too much
to do and do — not as one ought
for safety’s sake —
as one sees fit to do.)
You’re never too old to fall in love,
to wonder when hand will dock in glove;
you’re never too old to fall in love again.
You’re never too old to get it right.
to sift the sincere ought from the trite;
you’re never too old to fall in love again.
T-Tootsie
got her head in a sling,
and guess who gets the credit.
T-Tootsie
will believe anything —
and guess who says who said it.
I go rigid
when I hear all this stuff;
there’s never time to fix it.
I go quietly
but it isn’t enough:
just time enough to nix it
Someone says Take it to heart;
Tootsie enrolls in some school.
T-Tootsie’s not just anyone’s fool.
Had to be there —
you just had to be there;
I couldn’t tell —
you —
had to be there —
you just had to be there —
just where
you never
are.
T-Tootsie
took the praise and the blame,
and guess who takes a powder.
T-Tootsie
swallows any old claim —
and guess who just gets louder.
I go crazy
when she says I’m insane;
there’s always some omission.
I go on and
on and on in this vein,
just locked in one position.
Someone says Take it to court;
Tootsie goes straightway downtown.
T-Tootsie’s not just standing around.
Twenty thousand years in Sing Sing —
do you think you can last?
Twenty thousand years from right now
they’ll be hearing your voice.
Oh, God damn those tapes;
thank God for those tapes.
They got me
twenty thousand years in Sing Sing —
got it all here on tape.
Twenty thousand years in Sing Sing:
when events move too fast —
twenty thousand years from right now —
they’ll be making a choice.
And they’ll be asking:
More complex than apes?
Or maybe:
Less complex than apes?
They got me
twenty thousand years in Sing Sing —
not too bad for an ape.
Everything is different
in the era of release —
just another future
doing things for the police.
Everything is different:
kitchen scanner radios.
In some other stupid future
someone closed her eyes and chose.
Everything is stupid
in a dozen different futures.
Twenty thousand years in Sing Sing —
do you think you should care?
Twenty thousand years from right now
an ununderstood voice;
twenty thousand years from right now
one more misinformed choice.
Twenty thousand years from right now?
This just won’t compare,
‘cause
everything is different —
just another future.
Everything is different
in some other stupid future.
Everything is stupid
in a dozen different futures ...
a dozen different futures
dozen different futures
zen different futures
different futures
rent futures
futures
Mommy, I don’t wanna be a fascist;
Daddy was a fascist in the war.
Mommy, I don’t wanna be a fascist —
all of this was tried and failed before.
I wasn’t thinking
about all the consequences
when I put that armband on.
I wasn’t thinking,
and now my last chance to think is gone.
“Mommy, please don’t let them call me “racist”
just because I never learned to dance;
Mommy, please don’t let them call me “sexist”
just because I’d just as soon wear pants.”
I wasn’t thinking
about all the consequences;
when I spoke up for the state.
I wasn’t thinking
and now it’s just this side of too late
So name three —
just name three,
and I’ll confess.
So name three —
just name three,
the rest’s your guess.
What did they say? |Arbeit macht frei —
What did they do? |I don’t have to try.
I wasn’t there; |Meine Ehre heißt Treue —
neither were you. |I’m nobody’s boy, ja.
Taken away,
stricken with shame,
taking the air,
taking the blame.
Mommy, I don’t wanna be a fascist;
Daddy was a fascist years ago.
Mommy, I don’t wanna be a fascist —
I know there’s some other way to go.
I wasn’t thinking
about all the consequences;
I was barely half awake.
I wasn’t thinking,
and now it’s for something else’s sake.
Big ideas, small results;
slight distaste for adults.
(So consistent: leaves a trail.)
Hates to show, likes to tell;
lips curled back, purpose fell.
(Wishing they’d just go away.)
To cajole, he insults;
to berate, he exults.
That persistent will to fail
makes it all laut und schnell —
twist and shout; torque and yell.
After all of that they say:
He’s just a creep:
another prolix prole who got in way too deep.
Hand on heart and heart in throat,
so choked up ’cause he’d missed the boat
till that guy on the rostrum handed him his coat.
That creep:
another flaccid flack who couldn’t get to sleep.
Half-life’s half what it should be —
there but for sheerest luck go we.
(But I know none of this applies at all to me.)
Bored with false and scared of true,
I end up with my back to you
and if I try to turn around,
the motion cancels out your sound.
First aboard, last ashore,
rotten straight to the core,
your insistent classic male
makes his peace with his God,
must needs melt to a clod
in the old appointed way,
’cause he’s a creep ...
I’m sitting here on this couch;
yeah, I know it’s been done before.
(And I know you don’t wanna hear
that story anymore.)
I’m sitting here in this house;
my life is slipping away.
I know you
don’t care
don’t care
don’t care
what you say.
Say:
Why don’t we get busy?
Busy in the absence,
busy in the presence —
it’s all one to me.
Say
“breach”, or say “observance”,
ask Does he? or Is he?
I’ll just ask Why should she?
I think that makes sense
I’m sitting here in this car,
which may be moving, or not,
and I know you won’t give me hints
on points I haven’t got.
I’m sitting here in this bar;
it’s one more accident scene.
I know you
don’t care
don’t care
don’t care
what you mean.
Mean
anything you want to
in the mode of offense
in the mode of defense
It’s all one — to — you
mean:
straddling the big fence,
medians and juju.
(“Neutral” just means “untrue”;
“Mean” just means “more nonsense”.)
O responsibility:
I don’t dance,
so dance with me.
In this world of persons —
all these gorgeous persons —
I’m afraid of persons;
I require some names.
Phersu and purusha,
persons and personæ,
all cast from the same die:
they still look like dames.
I’m sitting here in my room;
I’m glad to be unobserved.
(And I know you don’t wanna think
I got what I deserved.)
I’m sitting here on my floor;
I am not planning to stir.
I plan to
sit here till
I have forgotten
her
la la la la la la
her la la la la la la
la la la la la la —
hey, look! I forgot
her
la la la la la la
la la la la la la —
I just meant to tell her :
Chance is chance
and we are we.
I don’t dance,
so dance with me
No responsibility:
oh, come on
and glance at me.
Someone’s on the other line —
systole and diastole and ... oh, well.
(At the other end of this,
someone gets a message from a cell.)
You can do what you want to |1%, 2%, 3%, 4 and
[with the lie detector/out on one straight vector] |5%. 6%. 7 point x and
in the private sector; |8%, 9%, double digits,
|9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2 ...
what you like is your problem —
[name me one defector/with the set erector]
[from/in] the private sector.
Someone’s at the other door —
synthesis, antithesis. So what?
(In the other coterie,
someone figures out they’d better not.)
You’d better not do what you want to do —
it’s bad for the state, but it’s worse for you;
It’s probably bad for the GNP —
I know for a fact that it’s bad for me —
[but all you say is I know. Let’s go! /
and all you say is I know ... I know. ]
Someone’s in the other room —
politic, impolitic: no dice.
(On the other side of town,
someone speaks for all and names their price.)
Got a toy that lights up, got a plan that works:
got to keep surprising all the younger turks.
Got my reservations as regards the horde
(got my reservations on the next Concorde).
Don’t try to make me feel guilty —
old trick, new dog: it’s been tried.
Got a girl who’s crazy; got another girl:
cheap-shot intuition like a cultured pearl.
Got my reservation for the first of May
(got these reservations which don’t go away).
Don’t try to make me feel guilty —
old jar, new wine: misapplied.
Woke with a start: it was the Fourth of July;
ground to a stop: I don’t know how, I don’t know why.
What does it take
to stay awake?
(I need it? I’ll get it. )
Looked at the chart: it was the fourth of July;
just watched it drop: I didn’t really have to try.
They guess: you know —
it tends to show.
(Don’t let it.)
Got a plan that rumor claims might work too well —
got a plan to send the faint-hearts straight to hell;
got a reservation of another kind
(deep enough to pass for camp, but you won’t mind).
Don’t try to make me feel guilty —
old, lent; new, blue: meet the bride.
Some guy gets smart ’cause it’s the Fourth of July —
closes up shop because the codes just won’t apply
to ebb and flow:
tyro and pro
beget then reset ’em.
Take it to heart and it’s the Fourth of July.
(This damn be-bop elicits nothing but a sigh,
the vaguest ache,
the smallest stake —
forget ’em.)
Slow, so slow —
honey, you’re so slow;
I think you need a rest.
(Things are — as
is the way of things —
not always trough or crest.)
It is so
that the shortest No
extinguishes the sparks;
you know rather
a lot of things,
but you don’t know a thing about sharks.
You got suckered,
I did not —
that’s okay,
’cause you’re just a tot.
Gimme!
(Gimme that prie-Dieu!)
I deflected
suchlike swine;
you did not,
but it worked out fine
Gimme!
(Gimme a safe bet.)
Having been targeted and confirmed,
having been locked onto,
having blundered into striking range,
what do
the likes of you
expect a shark
to do to you?
Peace and safety,
said la Bête
(half in love
with an empty set
(Gimme!
(Gimme that WATS line!))):
I got rattled,
as did you.
(This’ll pass
as it tends to do.)
Gimme!
(Gimme a clear shot.)
News you can think about,
talk about,
use
(stubborn infection of normative views)
makes a girl whirl about,
twirl about,
fall
into a stupor, or under a pall.
I’m loving something that’s disguised as you:
I’m drinking coffee in the living room.
I’ve got both copies of the Sunday Times —
I’m a professional
with some autonomy.
I’m looking out across the parking lot:
I’m holding hands with patent camouflage.
I’ve got a card that lists the last ten primes —
I’m a professional
(things aren’t so simple now).
This is just what you get;
man should not tamper with
things girls don’t understand.
(Men just get underfoot.)
I’m in the yard with some provocateuse;
I’m going back inside for more Chartreuse.
I have a terminal on every floor —
I’m a professional
trussed up for butchering.
I’m staring blankly at what some Fed taped
(I’m told she bombed the Torus and escaped).
I’ll write my memo: I will be ignored —
my job description says
I’m a professional.
A chicken farmer
painted Nihon blonde
while quoting Tacitus;
Rotarians from Utah
peered at the Annamese.
A TV maven
in the USA
was plagiarizing Keats:
“What’s in that box?” “Some horror.”
(One scarce forbore to look.)
Nam/Nam —
nursery noise:
pink is for girls,
white is for boys.
Nam/Nam —
sounds like a doubt:
saffron unfurls,
ashes fall out.
The martial Ashok
of the Latin sea
waxed all Prokrustean;
imperial Parisians
packed up their beads and fled.
An ordinary
sort of teenage child,
a native of the South,
said, “This will prove some horror,”
and shrugged. (On n’a que soi.)
I Love Trouble
I Am the Law
I Know Where I’m Going
I Bury the Living
I Aim at the Stars
I Love a Mystery
I Live My Life:
(I’ve got clear title:
oh, yeah.)
I Like Money
I Love My Wife
I Married an Angel
I Married a Woman
I Married a Witch
I Cover the War
I Saw What You Did
I Want What I Want
I Want a Divorce
18. (The Last Set of Lyrics to) LOUIE, LOUIE
A fine little girl a-wait for me —
Ah cotch a chill: ah! certainly.
Peel the linga; Aranda cone
(we never divine how Ah make it home).
Three nights and days Ah sail the seas —
Ah shuck the world; all kinds of trees.
Nihon in a beeswax: Ah scream, she there.
(Ah shell the roses in her hair.)
Stick in finger, pull out chair.
(I could sing this in Swedish, hon, and you wouldn’t care.)
Stay her ear in the house of men;
Ah tell her Ah never leave again.
As I got on a city bus and found a vacant seat,
I thought I saw my future bride walking up the street.
I hollered to the driver: "Hey, conductor! You must
slow down! I think I see her! Please! Let me off this bus!"
Oh, Nadine — honey, is that you?
Oh, Nadine — honey, is that you?
Seem like ev'rytime I see ya, darlin',
you got somethin' else to do.
I saw her from the corner when she turned and doubled back;
I saw her walkin' toward some coffee-colored Univac.
I was pushin' through the crowd tryin' get to where she’s at,
and I was campaign-shoutin' like a Southern diplomat.
Oh, Raydeen — honey, is that you?
Oh, Raydeen — honey, what are you?
Seem like ev'rytime I see ya, darlin',
You turn into somethin' new.
Downtown, searching for her, lookin' all around,
thought I saw her catch a Yellow Cab headin' uptown.
I caught a loaded taxi, paid up everybody's tab,
pulled a taser on the driver and said: "Catch that Yellow Cab!"
Oh, Maureen — honey, is that you?
Oh, Maureen — got in Interview.
Seem like evr'ytime I see ya, darlin',
you got round to someone new.
O: she move around like a movin' summer breeze —
go, go, driver, go, go: catch her for me, please.
Moving through the traffic like a mounted cavalier,
leanin' out the taxi window, tryin' to make her hear:
"Hey! What's your name?"
Ay-een — honey, where are you?
Oh, Nadine — uh — Raydeen? Uh — Maureen?
Aw, honey — who are you?
Seem like ev'rytime I see ya, darlin',
you turn into someone new.
little lady commissar
leatherette in leather bar
little tattooed carmine star
you can just forget that car
Why'd you wear that dress?
More is less, I guess.
little lady commissar
likes to take a joke too far
little doors left just ajar
funny just like Babi Yar
Why'd you wear that dress?
“Less is more” is less
than I am ready to accept.
So go ahead and shoot her:
couldn't fit here, didn't fit there —
I don't care.
Go ahead and shoot her
now.
Lidya Borissovna Gal
got locked up in the hospital
for who knows what;
me,
I don't think she did that stuff —
but what of that?
She thought about it.
Even if she didn't act out
anything she thought,
the thinking of it
was enough to lock up
Lidya Borissovna Gal.
Komisarochka —
what a joke.
Adopted daughter
of Mikoyan —
so she said
she said
she said
Please don't wear red tonight —
sight turns to smell
when i'm not feeling well,
and that frequency stinks
in this light.
So ...
Cars and explosions,
SST death flight:
I’ve got the living proof;
I’ve got the facts.
Cars and explosions,
cops in the twilight:
tracer fire from the roof;
no one admits he knows.
I’ve got the living proof —
I knew they’d
close the revolving door,
hide a lifetime of scars,
plot it if it reacts.
Demographics prove
cars and explosions,
swerves to the wrong lane,
trigger off system crash,
full autostop.
Cars and explosions
stick in the backbrain.
Waiting to hear the splash:
on the rail,
folded clothes
trigger off system crash.
Cars and explosions
get in the way.
Cars and explosions:
getting their way
cars and explosions:
g-g-g-getting away.
Close the revolving door
on the energy czars
keep it up till they drop —
the statistics show —
Cars and explosions,
Mesmer and cola,
scan lines and EEGs
flattening out:
cars and explosions,
gay as Enola;
movement behind the trees,
nothing we planned or chose.
Scan lines and EEGs —
one straight line.