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Leon looked over at Slim with eyes that started out like run-over snakes and had gotten narrower and bloodier with each passing round. Someone had played that Patsy Kline song on the juke so many times that the needle had cut clear through the vinyl and the room spun in time with Patsy endlessly singing: "tu-ur-ning, tur-ur-ning, tur-ur-ning...", her voice breaking in exactly the same place every time as the room spun like some kinda crazy-assed equal-and-opposite-reaction dance partner. Leon took another sip of Jack and emptied the rest of his Bud before the chills hit his spine. Slim had gone back to dividing his attention between Leon and the game. He was watching the tv on the other side of the bar, not so much out of interest in the game or to ignore Leon as much as to give his eyes a break and check out the piece of tail playing video blackjack against the far wall. The more she lost, the better she looked. He had stopped listening to Leon's booze rant three beers ago; now he was simply content to sip his Lite and absently chew on some stale Chex Mix. "Say," wondered Leon, beginning to suspect that something wasn't quite right, "what kind of cowboy did you say you were?" |
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We ain't exactly Romeo and Juliet We ain't even Desi and Lucille. You feel sick of hearing what I think and I think I'm sick of hearing how you feel. We used to say that we were birds of a feather; now there's nothin' but stormy weather 'round here. We don't live in Architectural Digest, it's something closer to a trailer park hell. You say you can't see the lawn through the weeds, while I can't hear the sound of the T.V. through your yell. Every day another brick crumbles and every night the thunder rumbles 'round here. And every day another tear is falling, down my cheek straight into my beer. Every day another place is calling 'cause it rains too much around here. Old man Noah had it easy, you see, dealing out two of a kind. But after forty days and nights, we're still at sea. It's a busted flush, we've run out of luck and we've run out of time. I been thinkin' maybe Southern California, I'd hang my line off the end of some pier. Cause I'm looking out for a new situation, I only wanna see you through my rear view mirror. Every night the hounds start barkin' and Every day the skies get dark around here. And every day another tear is fallin' down my cheek straight into my beer. Every night another place is calling, 'cause it rains too much around here. Take me to the top Armadillo County, Lacto-Vegetarian, Commie-Libertarian, Gay and Lesbian Monster Truck and Tractor Pull I'm a travelin' troubadour, a one man band, part Willie Nelson and part Willie Loman, and I guess you know where that puts me on the totem pole. I travel around from here to there, playin' rodeos and county fairs, and Wal Mart openings and two bit hole in the walls. So I didn't think it was anything big, when my agent called me up and said here's the gig, pack your bags I'm a sendin' you out on the road: To the Thirteenth Annual, Armadillo County, Monster Truck and Tractor Pull. The trip was nothin' but trouble from the get-go, When my Chevy S-10 had a rod that let go, just outside of Dry Spit, Tennessee. Pardon my French but it was somethin' of a bitch, what with all my gear and havin' to hitch, but I got to the Arena with a little bit of time to spare. I told the promoter I could eat a horse, but he said: "here comrade have some borsch. Meat is murder, but sour cream's OK. And Welcome to the Thirteenth Annual, Armadillo County, Lacto-Vegetarian Commie-Libertarian, Monster Truck and Tractor Pull." Show tunes started to blare, through the lilac scented air. I asked for a beer, but it was California Chardoney they were drinkin'. I knew it was weird right off the bat, Maybe by the way they shook hands with me like that. Say, what the hell was my agent thinkin'? Sure I'm way in debt and I'm down on my luck, I said a gig's a gig but what the ****, it's the Thirteenth Annual, Armadillo County, Lacto-Vegetarian, Commie-Libertarian, Gay and Lesbian Monster Truck and Tractor Pull. Well pro that I am, I did my bit, and wouldn't you know it I was somethin' of a hit, though I never thought of myself as particularly authentic. But the crowd went nuts and shouted for more, I finally left the stage after three encores, had to leave some time for the men's auxiliary tap dance unit (whatever that is). Then the big pink truck smashed some Japanese wreck, I called a cab and picked up my check, it included a bonus and a note on the back that read: Y'all come back to the Fourteenth Annual, Armadillo County, Lacto-Vegetarian, Commie-Libertarian, Gay and Lesbian Monster Truck and Tractor Pull. Take me to the top When you're not around, Oh, girl, I miss you. Like a baseball misses spring- you're in everything. Oh, yes I miss you. Like a diamond needs a ring- you make me sing. Is my song worth much? No, it ain't worth much. Just a simple little sound, more lost than found. No, it ain't worth much. It's like a tree fallin' to the ground- and no one's around. But I promise I won't waste my time on wine, women and song. 'Cause I've been down that lonesome road wonderin' where I went wrong. It's hard enough just getting by in this here lonely life, And if I can't have you then I don't want a wife. Will I love you? I guess I'll love you, 'til the burning sun grows cold- you're this fool's gold. Hell yes, I'll love you, 'til my body turns to mold; 'til my tale's told. So I'm sittin' on this bar stool as the jukebox plays a song, I tear the label off my beer and try to hum along. 'cause I'm so afraid of losing you and tired of my strife, if you won't have me, then I don't want a life. If you won't have me then I don't need no life, If I can't have you, then I don't want a wife. Take me to the top It's late at night, I'm still up as the rain is falling down I'm just lying alone in the dark listening to fire trucks and car alarms Sleep teases like an indolent child grasping silky faded dreams But there's a hole in this bed as big as you, and I have to keep from falling in I don't believe in nostalgia, or glorifying the past 'cause nothing people ever make is built to last and I can't be sure of anything in the private gloom of night But it seems that loving you was the only thing I ever got right Mi Amor Mi Amor There are the stars above me The earth below me Mi Amor Everyday you're not around is as confusing as the first I keep expecting a call or a letter or maybe you'll walk through the door Things just seem a little muted, a little more mundane A growing litany of bills, back pains and soiled dreams I don't understand the physics, it's like the opposite of gravity But the longer you're away the stronger you pull on me Mi Amor Mi Amor There are the stars above me The earth below me Mi Amor Take me to the top Well I'm a big man, mamma, built like a redwood tree. I love you baby, but you're trying' to make a toothpick outta me, But how can I love you when you'll never let gonna let me be free? I'm on to ya baby, like a fish on a line. And when I kiss your lips, lord they're sweet as cherry wine. But how can I love you when you never give me any of your time? Now some men climb the mountains, some men swim the sea, some men die tryin' to fly, not me; I like trees. They got a sawmill baby, they'll tie you down and cut you down to size Those rigs are rollin' in, and they ain't fooled by pretty eyes. It's called Chainsaw Love, and that chainsaw cuts right into your disguise. Now some men climb the mountains, some men swim the sea, some men die tryin' to fly, not me; I like trees. Take me to the top (The Ballad of Billy O'Shea) Hard off the Natchez in a valley so old, a country so poor but rich in black coal. There lived a young miner named Billy O'Shea, and he promised his sweetheart there would soon come a day: when they'd move from the valley-he'd no longer toil breathing choking black diamonds and smelling of coal. It got in his clothes-it clung to his hair- under his nails and hung in the air. Singing: Someday lord, ease this hard life of mine, put the cork in the bottle and cleanse me of sin. Save me lord, from the hell of the mine, and wash this black dust clean off my skin It's a story told often of husbands and brides, we all soon seek comfort where comfort abides. While Billy drank whiskey and practiced neglect, his bride soon found solace with a young reb cadet. One day at the mine, he was told to go home, number two had a cave in and four was near gone. When he got to his cottage, he heard cries of desire, so he boarded the door and set the building a-fire. Singing: Why me oh Lord, and this sweet love of mine? Take the cork from the bottle and let me crawl in. Save me lord, from this hatred of mine, and wash this black smoke clean off my skin. So they tried and they hung young Billy O'Shea, and rested his body in an unhallowed grave. The coal vein ran dry and the mine grew a shambles, the county ran riot with kudzu and brambles, and The Tennessee Valley Authority Plan, called for constructing a huge concrete damn. The damming would cause the whole valley to flood, and maybe wash clean all the terror and blood. Singing: Drown me Lord, and this country of mine, take the stop from the bottle and let me back in. Drown me lord, and this wet land of mine, and wash this black blood clean off my skin So why waste your time with a tale so mundane? This kind of thing happens with the sureness of rain. Well some fishermen out in the crepusuclar light, saw what looked like a raft floating free through the night. So the damn didn't free the damned soul from the loam, but the water had freed his wood box from its home. And the peat has preserved Mr. Billy O'Shea, The local State College has his bones on display. Singing: Help me Lord, and this poor soul of mine, stop this exhibit of my bones and my skin. Dry me lord, and this wet land of mine, and dig me a hole, for to drop me back in. Take me to the top Her sweetheart's the man in the moon- He's going to marry her soon, T'would fill her with bliss just to steal one kiss, and she's got half a dozen she never would miss. She'll go up in a great big balloon- And see her sweetheart in the moon, then behind a dark cloud where no one's allow'd, She'll make love to the man in the moon. Take me to the top Some folks find farm life terrific, I just find it soporific, Same old boring thing from day to day. I don't wanna sound imprudent, but shovelin' pig and cow effluent ain't my forté, ain't my métier. I'm emigratin' to the city, where the lights are oh so pretty, here tell they outshine the moon and stars. I'll have a dozen love affairs, dine with models and millionaires, drink champagne and smoke Cuban cigars. I knew that from an early age, I needed a much larger stage, to showcase my wit, intellect and charm. Apologies dear Mom and Dad, It ain't my aim to make you sad, but I can't live my life out on this farm. No I can't live my life out on this farm. Take me to the top If it takes a man to admit he's wrong, (then I) guess my manhood's two foot long: I couldn't have been more mistaken if I tried. I know I said I was on a spree, and city live agreed with me, (well) what more can I say, I guess I lied. ('Cause I'm) sick and tired of subway trains, car stereos that rattle brains, and uptight, surly folks who never smile. I'm longing for where the grass is green, water's pure and air is clean, and there's more cows than people per square mile. It's true I might be somewhat slow, but there's one thing I surely know, cowboy's belong home upon their farms. Leave the porch light on at night, I'm headin' on a redeye flight, I just can't wait to be back in your arms, no, I can't wait to be back in your arms. Take me to the top In our team we have raised a flock of ducks. Every morning I take them to the pond. Toward me the little ducks quack, quack, quack. Goodbye little ducks, I have to go to school. Goodbye little ducks, I have to go to school. In our team we have raised a flock of ducks. After school I take them back to their nest. Toward me the little ducks quack, quack, quack. Goodnight little ducks, the sun has set. Goodnight little ducks, the sun has set. Take me to the top b schindele: keyboards, vocals pat smith: acoustic guitar, background vocals, yodels jeff hirano: electric guitar dave scott: cornet skooter fein: dumbak, shaker tim vaughan: snare drum |