Betty Botter bought a bottle of bitters from the bar Major Matt, he mixed his mild martinis in a jar This doggerel is my private hell, these words whose meanings never gel I’m gonna find you, wherever you are Never trust a man without a horror story Eros, the rose and the sore The hearts of Boston lie for me The hearts of Boston have a hurricane to answer for If I started walking I’d be almost there by now I’m on the world stage From the Tel Aviv swamp to the deserts of New Orleans You can’t read your lines if you can’t find your page In my rage and shame I cursed “Bad god, no offerings” I’m a magi with bad apologies No scented candles, no shiny things Never trust a man without a horror story Eros, the rose and the sore The hearts of Boston, they lie for me The hearts of Boston have a hurricane to answer for Life never labels the last time you do something I swear, I can always do more i’ve taken enough charity already And the last thing I need is once more to lose something I drove to your door in a dusty Honda Or an orange Saab, or an Austrian Mazda I don’t mind being wrong as long as long as no-one else is right The hopes and fears of all the years are here with us tonight Never trust a man without a horror story Eros, the rose and the sore The hearts of Boston, they cry for me The hearts of Boston have a hurricane to answer for Life never labels the last time you do something I swear, I can always do more I’ve taken enough charity already And the last thing I need is once more to lose something It was action-packed in the cul-de-sac the dust blew forward and the dust blew back You and I were under attack With a parachute bag for a burlap sack ‘Cause you required some danger So I acquired a gun You married a stranger All I could do was run, run, run You required the danger I acquired a gun You married a stranger All I could do was run Ten years of hard labor is a hard time But fifty years of disappointment is a hard time too I met a man who got his 5-year-old a Bocephus tattoo It got out of his hands, and this got out of mine too When you required some danger And I acquired a gun You married a stranger All I could do was run, run, run You required the danger So I acquired a gun What transpired was anger Then all we were was done Never trust a man without a horror story Eros, the rose and the sore The hearts of Boston are terrified for me The hearts of Boston have a hurricane to answer for Life never labels the last time you do something I swear, I can always do more i’ve taken enough of your charity already And the last thing I need is once more to lose something Which is the right life? The quiet life or the night life? If Cole Porter didn’t know, how can I be sure? The hearts of Boston are gonna lie for me ‘Cause the hearts of Boston have a hurricane to answer for.

To us, the beautiful! And to those who disagree, may their eyes fall out We all want something beautiful We all want something to yell to the crowd about And I got something that’ll make you yell it loud I only dream about the fights and the frustrations Names for the nameless And how to shame the shameless The devil is an author Tries to edit every page Interrupts the entrances Steals the stage light The devil’s not an author Only edits what is there Carnal acts and charnel ends Nobody cares To us, the beautiful! And to those who disagree, may their eyes fall out We all want something radical We all want something to scream and shout about I want something that’ll make me yell it loud Money’s not the root of evil It’s the dowsing rod of evil Finds your true self and brings it to the surface Gives it a face Gives it purpose To us, the beautiful! And to those who disagree, may their eyes fall out We all want something meaningful, but casual and sensual and juvenile But actually valuable, fanatical, palpable and tangible and tragic We just want to be magic We just want to be magic.

I put on a record It was called “Sad Songs For Sullen Lovers” I listened to it once It took me all day to recover I put on a record It was called “Sad Songs for Savage Lovers” Called you up, Told you what I thought And then I ran for cover I put on a record Called “Dirty Songs For Sad Lovers” It wasn’t long before you called And said “Please, please come over And tell me Did your broken heart make you who you are?” I put on a record It said “Love me once, then leave forever” We are so pure We can learn both joy and rage together You took off the record And said “What’s your rush? As if things won’t break in their own time Without you there to push them Forget about the record Forget about the song Let’s concentrate on what we got right And what we’re still doing wrong.” Did your broken heart make you who you are? You are capable of anything, aren’t you? You learned it from someone Someone learned it from you Cruelty is a virus I know, it’s in my blood too You think you know someone But you never know what they will do Did your broken heart make you who you are? Can your broken heart tell me more about who you are? Then tell me all about it If your broken heart can tell me more about who you are Then go ahead, tell me all about it.

We stood out in the field all night But we never saw the Marfa lights Stared up at the stars all night We couldn’t see the Marfa lights. Bath salts under basalt pillars In the darkness outside town Where the feed store was half fallen down Red paint flaked off, red leaves gone brown And the sap had all been boiled down. Feed the paw Eat the garlic raw Defend the truth of what you saw Stay above the law. We stood out in the field all night But we never saw the Marfa lights. Stared up at the stars all night But we couldn’t see the Marfa lights. We’re gonna have to sit through our lives twice First a tragedy, then a heist First a comedy and then a farce First the film and then the theatre arts. A rat ate my t-shirt while I slept That’s fine, I got too many black t-shirts A white rat can have one And play like he’s Chaplin for his rat friends. To the girl in short skirt Black tights and the Converse Toes turned in, hugging herself with one hand A drink in the other, like it’s a burden Well, everybody’s hurting, I know Everybody’s thwarted, I know Everybody’s working toward a bigger kind of love Everybody’s cursing their lot Everybody’s full to bursting, and gonna pop Ready for the breaking & burning And certain of a bigger kind of love.

She called him Felix Which meant “lucky” to her He was a middle-distance runner She didn’t take him seriously But shifted in her seat when he walked by He thought her plain But sensual in some way She licked the corner of her mouth thoughtfully Wore her skirts above the knee He told her a story about a pair of green and gold yarn gloves That he’d been given It was with a sting of recognition She realized he’d given those gloves to her When he left it had the feel of a little tradition Lash solitude to the wind But when you leave again Leave something of you with them Tie your fishing lines to the fence posts And do your best to reel them in The candle flickers You measure morals by unsturdy things Tear leaves off of the sycamore Pin down the butterfly’s wings “I never knew it got this cold in August Here in Tuscon” “Only in the evening There’s nothing here to hold the heat The sun goes down It floats off and is lost Anyway, you’ve got a jacket Tell me where you got that necklace.” He looked across the parking lot At the path under the highway At the mouth of it a man slung bags of cans across his back He coughed, and he turned back to the table She told him a story of a hand-embroidered pillow She’d been given It was with a sting of recognition He realized she’d given him that pillow When she left it had the feel of a little tradition So lash solitude to the wind But when you leave again Leave something of you with the Tie your fishing lines to fence posts And do your best to reel them in The candle flickers You measure morals by unsturdy things Tear leaves off of the sycamore And pin down the butterfly’s wings

She was a cold case Of Celtic descent And Celtic dissent was in her blood She saw the human race Like so many islands Laid out for a flood She was a cold day With a stern resolution To leave nothing that could be left unsaid, said. “Come on,” she’d say, “It’s a weak constitution That lets the dead past bury its dead.” It took all day to walk across town The day all the leaves came down. Up to my knees in orange and brown The day all the leaves came down. At the Mt. Zion Old School Baptist Church We kissed in front of Jesus & some dead rebels In a motel run by a cowboy Elvis Fetid, foul & feckless, a half-man of letters. He said, “I am not a tree that will constantly bloom in spring” She said, “That’s your excuse for everything Saying love the sinner, hate the skin You can be kindred without being kin.” It took all day to walk across town The day all the leaves came down. Up to my knees in orange and brown The day all the leaves came down. Which is the right life? The quiet life or the night life? Which is the brightest? The morning or the night light? Which held you the tightest? Your first love or your third wife? From the chill dawn to the humid night. It took all day to walk across town The day all the leaves came down. Up to my knees in orange and brown The day all the leaves came down.

Trees are cannibals They eat their own Turn the hearts of oak and bark to loam And limestone Poor forked radish Feet set in bone Concentrate on things you’ve left unfinished And unknown. Be of good heart. Our songs will all be silenced. So what? We’ll go on singing. Put out the pilot light And gather up the bottles The beer will trace the hollows The remnants of the waters Of Frankie Stubbs’ tears You make forgetting look like fun Standing out there with your coat undone The centerpiece of the mise-en-scene set in the setting sun Sight unseen, you could be anyone The light in your hair and your hands in your jeans You could be anyone CHORUS These are the ways These are the ways we remember This is the passage of life through our minds This is a memory, a weakening pearl in a chain This is how mysteries form on a grain of sand Fear is an animal That feeds alone Remembered once in haste and once in calm CHORUS

If you’re wondering how to open Open with the wrestlers Dressed in their shiny little briefs Some kind of polyester vest Tied across their hairless chests shiny with the attention. And if you’re wondering how this skinhead got in Someone let him And he’s circling the stadium With his Nazi friend and they’re radiant And everyone stares straight ahead and just lets them. And if you’re wondering how our stupid hearts Let themselves get torn apart Every survivor learns this lesson About seeing ravens circling Feeling the shifting of the winds As the tides pull out of the basin. So this is elemental action So this is one becoming two So this is opposites retracting So this is left, what once was blue Maybe these days we won’t run and twirl Unfurl our curls of smoke that touch the stars Until we’ve given up our sense of wonder, sense of touch So swirling summer songs won’t sound so far. And if you’re wondering how our stupid hearts Let themselves get torn apart Every survivor learns this lesson About seeing ravens circling Feeling the shifting of the winds As the tides pull out of the basin As the tides withdraw from the basin. I walk these streets Like a one-man parade Lurching & bragging & Seasick on cheap champagne It’s a long ride From here to my city But it’s only money It’s only a dime at a time And if you’re wondering how our stupid hearts Let themselves get torn apart Every survivor learns this lesson About seeing ravens circling Feeling the shifting of the winds As the tides pull out of the basin As the tides withdraw from the basin. And if you don’t know how to close, close with the archers And the judges in the mercy seat Stopping stray arrows with their feet And signalling the changing of the partners.

east bay ray seemed like a pretty nice fellow but that one guy from philly, i wonder if he knew what he was getting into it was the greatest karaoke show that i had ever seen who could blame him? certainly not me. they hit “holiday in cambodia” and 500 people screamed and he gave us a nice compliment before “moon over marin” there were wisecracks in the upper deck from people in the scene but it sure looked like we all still wanted to believe so i’m sorry jeff whats-his-name if we didn’t take you serious but the punks all still sang along when we got to the chorus i’m sorry jeff whats-his-name if we didn’t take you serious but the punks all still sang along, still sang along, still sang and they went whoa… what happens to the road crew when the contractor goes down? who takes the helm when the captain moves to higher ground? those rangy old sled dogs still know which way the race should go all those rudderless old sailors can still tell which way to row did you pack up your kit bag and leave your troubles by the road? well, i’ve tried to outrun problems, man, the problems they followed johnny appleseed didn’t need to tend the seeds that he had sowed the other farmers grabbed the reins and they got by on their own i’m sorry jeff whats-his-name if we didn’t take you serious but the punks all still sang along when we got to the chorus we all still need a leader to support us but the prow needs a ship when he gets into deeper waters we all still need a leader to support us but in a pinch a hundred punks can still do the job for us They go whoa…. we sang along.