Brute (Vic Chesnutt & Widespread Panic) - Nine High A Pallet Tue, 22 Feb 2000 14:53:50 +0100 "Gunnar Hedlund" "Hans Settler" Thanks Gunnar! @ARTIST: Brute (Vic Chesnutt & Widespread Panic) @ALBUM: Nine High A Pallet @SONG: Westport Ferry (not Berkeley Ca.) I went the backassed way to Berkeley when I rode the Westport Ferry I should've known it would change my life when I rode the Westport Ferry what did I do aboard the boat on the Westport Ferry I wrapped warm bodies in plastic wrap on the Westport Ferry when the current is mighty and the channel is steep around the Westport Ferry think of how many brilliant men were lost in that murky deep around the Westport Ferry I will float again when they're done dredging that stubborn crowd won't disperse till that barge becomes a hearse @SONG: Blight we sat on the couch a-playin touch the tongue and bump the table but I was scorned after little ado tossed right out into the blue I set into a downward spiral caught an illness that was literally viral I heard some words of wisdom just the other day and they went into one of my ears and out of the other one I awoke from the beatific binge with prismatic eyes, now lite is tinged with all the vapors that vile humans brew shining through the blight of you ooh, shining through the blight of you ... @SONG: Mr. Hard-On good morning Mr. Hard-on, you've been so strange here lately good morning Mrs. Teacup, you're such a fine lady who's the basketcase in this rock'n'roll face since the body is braced for a major piece of action good morning Mr. Hard-on, you're such a sight presently good morning Mr. Razor are we gonna do some tangling what's the big to-do, why the stiffy salute who'll get the tribute from this major piece of action good morning Mr. Hard-on, you're looking awful brunchy good morning Mrs. Window, your's is such a fractured beauty push the envelope toward the treacherous slope Mr. Hard-on will float toward this major piece of action Mr. Hard-on ... @SONG: Ain't Crazy Enough I ain't crazy enough to get away with such I ain't looney on paper to pull off such a caper all of my life, all of my time I spent figuring all of the figures, all of the numbers have been suffering I ain't cut out for math still I chose the wrong path but I ain't foaming at the mouth, I guess I can probably work things out all of the pressures, all of the fissures are not internal still I haven't ruled out a weakening bout with the infernal I ain't good enough at annoying to really enjoy it please give me another chance I swear to God that I'll go in a trance please give me another chance I swear to God that I'll go in a trance ... @SONG: Protein Drink (postcard to Bob Neuwirth) protein drink on a flat sink ice on the old window kitchen light just isn't right I need full spectrum corn field is post yield creek froze lake effects snow and a mushroom so very nasty in my mouth and a mushroom so very nasty in my mouth I will graze Akron tomorrow but today I'm staying put now my mood could use a little saccharin but soon I'll be light of foot, ooh, lighter fluid oh, lighter fluid, oh, lighter fluid you're in Santa Monica on a numbered street I'll be on a salty highway burning up a lucky streak @SONG: Sewing Machine suck in your gut, clench your fist just finished scaling a big black fish on a bench behind the tool shack in a patch of poison sumac Mama ordered us some catalogue jeans she made the cuffs on the sewing machine sewing machine ... Granny wrote a letter up under a table lamp said her thumbs hurt from all the beans she had to snap I lay on the porch looking through the cracks saw the dog asleep, watch those ugly chickens scratch the prom is coming, Big Sister should be a queen Mama makes her dress on the sewing machine sewing machine ... Daddy is asleep, he's just home from work in his comfy chair, in his yellowed undershirt Sister is sad, she's just got the curse I am fairly happy 'cause my go-kart kind-of works I want to be a vampire for the Halloween Mama makes a cape on the sewing machine sewing machine ... @SONG: Let's Get Down To Business let's get down to business, shall we it's time we quit playing games let's get down to business, shall we let's quit with this lame pretense and tackle this what shackles us all of this a-pressing business well, why didn't you tell me that things had gotten this bad I was off in my own little world and I didn't see through your tai-chi that I was being so sad well, why didn't you tell me that things was falling apart I was off in my own little world and I didn't discern your slowburn amidst all these fluttering hearts let's get down to business, shall we it's time we quit playing games let's get down to business, shall we let's quit with this lame pretense and tackle this what shackles us all of this a-pressing business and tackle this what shackles us all of this a-pressing business ... @SONG: George Wallace love of the old adage, love of the tablets what do they say love of spider webs, love of the dead what do they say I ain't heard them say anything, Issac I ain't heard them say anything as of late love of rusty cannons, love of prayer candles what do they say love of sunken ships, love of bad trips what did you say I ain't heard them say anything, Issac I ain't heard them say anything as of late here I am at my crystal radio listening for a signal from decades ago love of the rewarmed, love the deformed what did they say love of the demolished, love of George Wallace what does he say I ain't heard him say anything I ain't heard him say anything as of late @SONG: PC you're so politically correct it crawls down my neck smug as a bug in your righteousness you talk like you're the original socialist they all sit at you're feet like you are some maharishi as you knock off all the of the easy targets and knock of all of the tightest teacher's pets and now you are a rich man, you bought yourself a band you're talking tough and you're playing loud you sure know how to please your crowd they all rally around you in their sweat shop stylie-man suits flashing their bright red union cards blaring all your cd's from their oriental cars @SONG: Snowblind Friend (Hoyt Axton) you say it was this morning when you last saw your good friend lying on the pavement with the misery in his brain stoned on some new potion he found upon the wall of some unholy bathroom in some ungodly hall he only had a dollar to live on 'til next Monday and he spent it all on comfort for his mind did you say you think he's blind someone should call his parents, a sister or a brother and they'll come and to take him back home on a bus but he'll always be a problem for his poor and puzzled mother and he'll always be another one of us he only had a dollar to live on 'til next Monday he said he wanted heaven but praying was too slow so he bought a one way ticket on an airline made of snow did you say you saw your good friend flying low dying slow, flying low, dying slow, flying low @SONG: Miserable I am miserable in my big musty suit I am even with my every version of the truth I fiddle with the ring on my writing hand that old clear jewel in a massive band spider veins decorate my face alcohol awakes my nasal space alcohol based sprays my ear lobes sag with ceremony my lust is thick with matrimony nuptial, matrimony @SONG: Bastards In Bubbles bastards in bubbles float around their tissuey eyes bulging out amongst the marbles for some bright blue steel they love the marvels that the machines do mill bastards in bubbles ... bastards in bubbles float around their filmy eyes bulge without a doubt they doubt the physics of the focused storm they hate the breath that blew their form bastards in bubbles ... @SONG: Cataclysm bang the hubcap slowly but swing the hammer hard the cataclysm is over they've swept away the shards shout a loud hosanna and burn a big brassiere the cataclysm is over the fast, the tragic past is cleared so keep us a steady vigil a church in your lunchbox the cataclysm is over they've reset the horror clocks