1. |
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haunted by my lover's head
the mouth I kissed now floats and foams
I began to weep as her lips ceased to speak
& now the blood that sheds through thirst is shown
so I bottled my tears for fifteen years
yes, that's the way love goes
& the hope filled my eyes and I cried and they cried
yeah , every night the head bemoaned
so they unearthed her bones & I carried them home
yes, that's the way love goes
& so I washed those age-old bones
as I cried & they cried the head softly moaned
& with the desperation of a handless thief
I stole the hope from my gone lover's eyes
& the bones, they danced about the room
& then turned gold just like the moon
I say, the bones, they danced all around the room
& then turned gold just like the moon,
but we all know the moon's not made of gold
O, that's the way love goes
we know it's made of cheese
love is made of cheese
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2. |
a tropical depression
05:16
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I have not quite forgotten the skeeters on the beach,
nor your struggle to tire a calmed man
& still in my mind, the boats passing us by
in front of good eye and going somewhere new
from all of the illness
& all the fatigue
from when young skin touched old skin
I have not quite forgotten
the tropical depression
she is my own salvation, her arms O, how they stretch out
two lengths of grace upon which I've grazed
I have not quite forgotten, upon a tropical time
a tear-drop face, a sad cumbia band played
through all of the illness
& all the fatigue
from when young skin touched old skin
I have not quite forgotten
the tropical depression
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3. |
patches
05:00
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hole in my shoe, hole in my soul
what do you know?
hole in my clothes goes way down to the bone
ojo ciego
I'm fit to be tied, tarred,& feathered
O, that's the way loves go
"turn on my love, let it mend my ring
around your rosy".
my pockets filled with spent matches
ain't got nor lint to burn
& no phoneme unlearned
no wish left to whisper so onward I roll
down never ending hole
my patches have torn, my spine is exposed
& a bloated tongue bemoans
I'm written this life in stormy weather
on my butcher paper toes
"send me to love you, send me to sing
to your country".
my pockets filled with spent matches
ain't got nor lint to burn
& no corner unturned
I wear a crown of spent matches
I sleep beneath no roof's thatches
the skin that's left covered in scratches
two hands that drop what it catches
earned nothing I have yearned
so judge me, then adjourn
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4. |
where makes blame
03:53
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have we come out of this unscathed?
we've been blinded, broken, made lame
by the price of what's been paid
we made our appraisal in vain
watch us, we're depraved
& always on the very verge of devouring remains
& what we're thinking might be tame
embitters us & breaks our bones
& swears we've won the game
yeah it swears we've won the game
or at least forgotten & alone
we've come to where makes blame
we've been bound to what makes us blame
& then leaned on by the broken cane
we've earned the right to feign
our sincerety & our disdain
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5. |
O where, O where
03:28
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O where has my little horse gone?
she sent spilling my bottle of mezcal down
but the sun still shines on down o're us all
thus I see what I say I saw
O where has my little hut gone?
I built you, lived, laughed & loved in you
& I look now the sun burns me down
it no tarry yon brittle fickle frown
O where has my little whore gone?
it took not me long for she had such a smell
it's warming up it all, that big bright ball
thus, I say what i said, but that's not all
O where, O where has my little hurt stayed?
right here in the middle of my hopeless chest
& that pulsating light haloes us all
thus I feel what I feigned I flaw.
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derek joe brockett
born in the USA 1971 to the sounds of black sabbath, marvin gaye, rolling stones, david bowie, and sly and the family stone. first e.p. on vinyl was recorded in oklahoma, 2001. all other releases recorded in oaxaca, mexico where the proverbial hat is hung. this is outsider's music with an existential twist and so no wonder why you've found yourself here. ... more
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