It was August. Summer of '82.
You had that rusty old car
And me I had nothing better to do.
You picked me up. We hit the road. Baby me and you.

We shot out of town drivin' fast and hard.
Leaving our greasy skid marks in people's back yards.
We were goin' nowhere. Just driving around.
We were goin' in circles. And me, I was just hanging on.

Like in that Annie Dillard book
Where she sees that eagle with the skull of a weasel
Hanging from its neck
And here's how it happened, listen:
Eagle bites the weasel. Weasel bites back.
They fly up to nowhere. Weasel keeps hangin' on.
Together forever.

We were goin' nowhere. Just driving around.
You did all the talking and me I didn't make a sound
If I open my mouth now I'll fall to the ground

If I could open my mouth. There's so much I would say.
Like I can never be honest. Like I'm in it for the thrill.
Like I never loved anyone. And I never will.

Eagle bites the weasel. Weasel bites back.
They fly up to nowhere. Weasel keeps hangin' on.
Together forever.

I remember that old coat my grandma used to wear
Made of weasels biting each other's tails
A vicious circle. An endless ride.
On the back of an old woman.

Eagle bites the weasel. Weasel bites back.
They fly up to nowhere. Weasel keeps hangin' on.
Together forever.
And me? I'm goin' in circles. I'm circling around.
And if I open my mouth now I'll fall to the ground.

Hey, you ain't nothin but a hooker, selling your f***ing soul
hey, you ain't nothin but a hooker, selling your f***ing soul

back up, they want you i swear
you got no worries, you got no cares
all you got is motherf***ers who will jock you
yea, you got money in your pocket

and you shoot off the ground like a rocket
you move so fast, lord you can't stop it
there you are, in the club swinging
and i'm just standing there, standing there laughing

all the things people have you believing
i feel sorry for your a** is out of season
maybe you should think of cutting down drinking
cos you look like a fat brat sinking

i coulda helped you but you had to act out
you dont have a f***ing clue what i'm about

and you ain't nothin but a hooker, selling your f***ing soul
and you ain't nothin but a hooker, selling your f***ing soul

i saw it coming through the line like a fullback
you're a crack slack, a f***ing rat pack
you don't react, your not backed
don't give a f***, yes like that

what you gonna do now that you ain't got nothing
look around, honey, you've been fronting
everybody knows that you're a fraud
and i'm making a record

all salutations, no hesitations
no reservations, just cancelations
and if i blow it, then i blow it
cos i'm a poet and i know it

and you ain't nothin but a hooker, selling your f***ing soul
and you ain't nothin but a hooker, selling your f***ing soul

you wanna try me
you know, you know, you know, you know, yeah
you wanna try me
you know, you know, you know, you know, yeah
you wanna try me
you know, you know, you know, you know, yeah
you wanna try me

Paul Laurence Dunbar - Life's Tragedy

IT may be misery not to sing at all,
And to go silent through the brimming day;
It may be misery never to be loved,
But deeper griefs than these beset the way.

To sing the perfect song,
And by a half-tone lost the key,
There the potent sorrow, there the grief,
The pale, sad staring of Life's Tragedy.

To have come near to the perfect love,
Not the hot passion of untempered youth,
But that which lies aside its vanity,
And gives, for thy trusting worship, truth.

This, this indeed is to be accursed,
For if we mortals love, or if we sing,
We count our joys not by what we have,
But by what kept us from that perfect thing.

Paul Laurence Dunbar - Sympathy

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
   When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
   When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—
I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing
   Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
   And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting—
I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
   When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
   But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—
I know why the caged bird sings!

Bring the Rain

Little Marcus, little Moe
And mummy's got a gun
Keeps the dogs
Clean off the garbage
Keeps the baliffs on the run
Cried for help so many times before
She's numb from head to toes
Tried diving from the 15th floor but
The window's always closed

Bring the rain
To wash away the pain
Make a better day
No-one is to blame

One grey day, the storm passed over
Brought the whole house down
Had to swim to find some shelter
On the darker side of town
Now they hang out on a liferaft
They all share an eiderdown
With some refugees from Venus
Who just never make a sound

Bring the rain
To wash away the pain
Make a better day
No-one is to blame

AURELIANO: by the same author #1 #2 #3 #4 #5