Begging Bowl
Bill's follow-up to Chevy w/Balding Tires. Seven songs, five vocal and two instrumental, written between 2004 and 2007. Recorded in multi-track digital high-fidelity. Physical CD is beautifully packaged using the Jewelboxing system and available from CD Baby. Download available in both mp3 and flac (lossless) formats.
Tracks:
Listen using the play button next to the mp3 download links.
Total Time: 20 min., 51 sec.
Lyrics:
Open Door
I got a dirty mirror
And an unmade bed
Got a vase of yellowed daffodils
And my book’s half read
You’ll go to Brooklyn
And I’ll go out of my head
I got a couple of points
And they’re pushed from my lips
Each time I step into the silence
It’s like a record skips
My mind ends at my eyes
And my world ends at my fingertips
I’m sitting on the sofa
Losing my mental health
You run your finger past the picture frames
Sitting on our shelf
My teeth tighten on my cigarette but you pause
And quietly excuse yourself
I hear you gather your belongings
From the bedroom floor
I take in these surroundings
Like an open sore
But you’ve passed through this circumstance
Like a breeze blows through an open door
There’s strangers on the sidewalk
Through my windowsill
The smoke-rings in my living room
Are standing still
Sometimes I think I’ll leave Phoenix
And other times I'm surethat I never will
By Its Very Nature Fleeting
In a cold, concrete cave
In the mists of the city
In the skeletal form of a dorm room
Lit by shooting, blue electricity
There’s a sharp, tearing wail
Like a wounded ass braying
Hello Nancy!—she’s sweet, but she’s antsy
And this is what she’s saying:
“Gone, gone away.
I’m a wild wind retreating
And the blueness of the firmament
Is by its very nature fleeting.
When my mind will finally fade
There won’t be a pause for grieving
Because the whole damn planet
Is hurtling through infinity
Through this vacuous vicinity
Through a mind of raving lunacy.”
Now a bursting voice chimes.
It’s the young convert, Felix.
“There’s a place out in space where the towers climb
Like the spiraling double-helix.
In the wide, distant sky,
See the flaming sign shining.
Without it, our lives would be bestial,
Our words, a hollow whining.
Gone, gone away.
Your whole life is time retreating.
And there’s no-one beneath the terrestrial sun
Who’ll hear your heart stop beating.
When this mundane shell decays,
You better know what you’re believing
Because the whole damn planet
Is hurtling through infinity
On a crash-course with the trinity.
It’s en route to Judgement City.”
A new voice softly breathes.
It’s the usually silent Valerie
With her words wafting down from the top bunk
Like a sweet breeze from the peanut gallery.
“You can hear what I say.
You can just as well ignore me.
But the thoughts jetting out from your synapses
Are as real as your body before me.
Gone, gone away.
You see the shining sky retreating
While some unnamed, unknown part of the globe
Feels the burning dawn light heating.
Though your shifting form will fade,
It’s no real cause for grieving
Because the entire, spinning planet
Is hurtling through infinity
Through our molecular vicinity
Through the streets of New York City
Through a tiny probability
Through the grossly disfigured and the pretty
Through a mind of bright simplicity
Through a mind of shining simplicity
The Stray Dogs of Dakar
I get the scent of sewer water
Drops are falling from my sweat glands
I cut the corner at the station
My windows fill with tiny hands
My fare starts a conversation
I pretend that I don't understand
Six years ago my father
Took work in New York City
I still hear my mother speaking
Though she's dead in Guinea-Conakry
It's me, my taxi, and my room
Since I finished university
Coins clacking in a begging bowl
I hear drumming coming down the route
From the metal, screeching loudspeakers
Comes calling from some marabout
Pedestrians, scooters and cars
Crawling past the destitute
I get the scent of sewer water
Drops are falling from my sweat glands
I cut the corner at the station
My windows fill with tiny hands
My fare starts a conversation
I pretend that I don't understand
Six years ago my father
Took work in New York City
I still hear my mother speaking
Though she's dead in Guinea-Conakry
It's me, my taxi, and my room
Since I finished university
Coins clacking in a begging bowl
I hear drumming coming down the route
From the metal, screeching loudspeakers
Comes calling from some marabout
Pedestrians, scooters and cars
Crawling past the destitute
The nets are already in
I see scales shine upon the sand
6000 gone in pirogues
For economically fertile lands
Nobody offers explanations
Because everybody understands
Flies buzzing on her bloody ears
At my gate in this October heat
My throat's dry from the day
And I let fly with my swelling feet
My heart's racing in my eardrum
She's limping down the sandy street
El Chorrillo
When I got into El Chorillo
I was coming down
So I took me two tabs
I’d bought in Koreatown.
In the street I saw sick dogs limping
Between the debris.
And I heard some kids run.
I opened my eyelids upward
And I touched my gun.
Insect wings were reflecting the rays
Of the rising sun.
I saw some civilian
And I heard me camera click.
So I shot, but I missed him.
A window crashed. My eyes flashed.
In a minute I choked.
I confused the shouts and smoke
That poured out from the building.
I drained my flask. I looked at my mask
And the mask looked at me.
Broken glass cut my knee
When I knelt down on the dirt.
I saw drifting pigeons fall out
From the blackened sky.
I shot 10 or 12 rounds
At a hovering dragonfly.
Rifles cleaned the last glass
From out of a window sill
And I kicked down a door.
Stick figures flickered in stop motion
Through sulphur and gas.
Flames stood still in the hallways
Like glowing stained glass.
I felt me the floor start giving
When my knuckles hit
And I inhaled pure oxygen.
A cat screamed. My sweat streamed.
I saw faces in the flame.
They called me by my Spanish name
Like only my mother would.
The roof collapsed. My memory lapsed.
My name lingered on my lips
Flames danced on my fingertips
When in the street I regarded them.
When I got back to Sherman
My head started coming down
So I took me a toke
I bought off some local clown
Ash fell on the concrete
Like windblown, spilled beer
And my lung burned.
Feeling No Pain (and Paying No Rent)
I lived large
I was gaining some girth
Called up information
Said, “what am I worth?”
Through that receiver
Came a curdling cry
Said my income was low
And my outflow was high
I got broke
My life was scattered in shards
It was too much to pay the interest
On my credit cards
But now my head’s held high
And filled with gratitude
I got bankruptcy law
And the Beatitudes
If at times I become belligerent
It’s not me, it’s the circumstance
I find it hard to remain indifferent
In matters of finance
My record was scratched
My psyche pistol-whipped
Ever since those bill collectors
Power tripped
But now I filed my papers
With the government
I’m feeling no pain
And I’m paying no rent
My sister’s couch
Some stranger’s cigarette
Information said,
“You’re now free as you’ll get.”
Once I was flush
Then my expenses would mount
Now my future’s as null
As my bank account
Yes, sometimes
I keep my curtains drawn
It’s a herculean effort
Just to water the lawn
Every window’s barred
This house has prison walls
Cant’t cook my own meals
Can’t answer telephone calls
And if at times it seems I’m lazy
There’s just nothing for me to do
No it’s not me, but the times that are crazy
And even Dow Jones knows it’s true
This old dog
He doesn’t bite, he barks
But I’m keeping myself busy
Reading Sartre and Marx
I went out on my bender
And I got myself bent
I’m feeling no pain
And I’m paying no rent |
