Lyrics From "Free Tracks"

1. bounce
2. bullet
3. my ruby mandolin
4. pulling black flowers from an hourglass
5. black and brown, lo to the ground
6. to be young again
7. at the corner of the top and the bottom
8. purgatory's sad little ghost
9. whistleman
10. antique row
11. down the drain

spring took half-an-hour
while summer is taking a year
and we're tired of sitting and stewing
in our own juices, around here

none of us got no air condition
hell, we ain't even got a fan
we're just jumping back and forth
between the fire, and the frying pan

our bad luck comes in tons
while our good luck is by the ounce
and that's the way our ball wants to bounce

the clouds are so pathetic
there ain't even one worth spit
the sun says "step off, cloud"
and they just wither up and quit

and the sun glares, unimpeded
while we cook and drip like roast
like the woeful fried-up center
of a slab of railroad toast

we get so much of what don't matter
and so little of what counts
and that's the way our ball wants to bounce

i never thought i'd say it
but i'm missing winter a lot
trash doesn't smell when it's frozen
only when it's boiling hot

and when this neighborhood is boiling
and there ain't a drop of rain
it can make a peaceful man violent
and a violent man insane

our dove of peace is half-asleep
while our vulture wants to pounce
and that's the way our ball wants to bounce

2. bullet

born in lousiana
across the river from new orleans
to a mother with a husband
doing six in dungarees

he was running soon as he could walk
mostly from the cops
he was dealin' "x" in gay bars
when he finally got popped

judge laid out the choices
one through three, when he said
that it's the army, or it's jail
or it's winding up dead

so he traded in his mullet
earrings, jackknife and bandana
and the army made a little room
for private lousiana

god's gotta lotta love for this boy
by rights he should be dead
he's lived more lives than a junkyard tom
he's got a bullet trapped in his head

he landed back in lousiana
but he didn't stay for long
he found a laundry list of enemies
but all his friends were gone

so he hopped a ride to california
with someone else's lady
all the while sucking on
a crack pipe like a baby

he hit the streets with his hood up
over hair once more grown long
metallica on his walkman
and his leather jacket on

someone offered him a couch
because he had a cough
it was six or seven months
before he finally got off

god's gotta lotta love for this boy
by rights he should be dead
he's lived more lives than a junkyard tom
he's got a bullet trapped in his head

he got himself a job
as a groom down at the track
all the while stealing bits
of tackle for crack

and things keep getting tighter
and he was getting rattled
and the shit finally hit the fan
when he tried to steal a saddle

so he grabbed a train to fresno
swearing that he'd get clean
he spent five months on a horse farm
then he was back in new orleans

god's gotta lotta love for this boy
by rights he should be dead
he's lived more lives than a junkyard tom
he's got a bullet trapped in his head

he found himself a cooking job
and saved a little money
kept himself off that pipe
and moved in with a honey

but she had a crazy ex and a son
from when they were together
well, one day he showed up
said hello, and cocked his hammer

eight months later our boy woke up
we never thought it would happen
he was in the very same hospital
where his poor mother had him

he felt around his head
for some bandages to unwind
his mother said "honey, there ain't none
i'm sorry son, you're blind"

god's gotta lotta love for this boy
by rights he should be dead
he's lived more lives than a junkyard tom
he got a bullet trapped in his head

it's been nearly nine years now
and he's back across the river
he's married, with a son
and they're talking about a daughter

he still likes his pipe
but now he only smokes it green
and he lives in lousiana
across the river from new orleans

god's gotta lotta love for this boy
by rights he should be dead
he's lived more lives than a junkyard tom
he got a bullet trapped in his head

3. my ruby mandolin


i'll tell you about the ocean
and what it's like to swim
i'll tell you about the mountains
and what it's like climbing them
i'll tell you where we're going
and i'll tell you where we've been
and i'll play you songs
i'll play you songs
on my ruby mandolin

i'll tell you about new orleans
the grace and the sin
i'll tell you about san francisco
and all the songdogs within
that tell you how it ended
and when it will begin
and i'll play you songs
i'll play you songs
on my ruby mandolin

looks like we won't be seeing you
for yet another christmas
but thank you for the card
saying that you missed us
i promise you, we're doing fine
we're making do
and we're missing you

i'll tell you about county clare
the rains and the wind
i'll tell you about the bogs there
and the angels amy laid in
i'll tell you about spirits
spoken and skin
and i'll play you songs
i'll play you songs
on my ruby mandolin

tell me about the old days
and how it was then
tell me about dancing
how you'd make grandma spin
tell me about making whiskey
while we're drinking gin
and i'll play you songs
i'll play you songs
on my ruby mandolin

4. pulling black flowers from an hourglass


there nothin' quite so lonesome
as an empty ferris wheel
rustin' on its hinges in the rain

except that feelin' when you're drivin'
down a lonely stretch of five
next to tracks that are carryin' no train

and i can see the body of a bird that met its doom
just another case of roadkill for the highway to consume
you know that i've been feelin' every life that i pass
pullin' black flowers from a hourglass

i can see the fog
come tumblin' down the hillside
like a tree whose will has been broke

and i can hear the raindrops
spatterin' on my hood
like a playing card pinned to a spoke

and i can see a scarecrow with nothing to protect
just another broken phantom in the caverns of neglect
you know that i've been feelin' every life that i pass
pullin' black flowers from an hourglass

the lake moves left to right
and the old men do the same
as they take their favorite circuits 'round the shore

but there's a mighty hidden shadow
looming out over the blissful
and it's too hard for the old men to ignore

st. helens had a fire buried well within her soul
it's so frightening how the relapse of a saint can take its toll
you know that i've been feelin' every life that i pass
pullin' black flowers from an hourglass

5. black and brown, lo to the ground

it's a hard place to be, and i need belief
i try to think like a savior, but i act like a thief
it's all so hard, trying to make things last
when i'm dreaming of fires, but living in ash

it's a hard place to be, and my heart gets thinner
when i pray like a priest, but i sin like a sinner
it's and bloody and wild, but i can't get it cleaner
i've lost my faith, and i'm just getting meaner

i'm walking around
without a sound
black and brown
lo to the ground

it's a hard way to ride, when the stirrups aren't level
i sleep like a baby, but i dream like a devil
it's so hard to walk, because my stomach is turning
i look like i listen, but i'm no longer learning

it's a hard way to live, i can't sell what i've got
and it's easier to die than i previously thought
i don't like it, but it's true, like butchers and grief
you can live like a sailor, but you'll die like a thief

i'm walking around
without a sound
black and brown
lo to the ground

it's a hard place to go, and there's no luck there
i cry when i lose, but nobody cares
it's a hard, stupid day, and there's more yet to follow
when i'm broke like a prophet, i choke when i swallow

it's a hard ride to get there, and the storms will be killing
it's a hard way to quit, but i find myself willing
it's a hard lie to tell, but i'm better off when
i steal like a lover, and lie like a friend

i'm walking around
without a sound
black and brown
lo to the ground

and i'm not doing anything
save for adding to the litter
and gone are the days
when i wasn't so bitter
and gone are the days when i counted the days
when i tried to pray for someone or something to save
and gone are the days when i was even around
black and brown, lo to the ground

6. to be young again

crying on the shadowed side of a face
wooden nickel scars under the skin
turning into smoke rings blown out of the frame
to eviscerate a promise again

words without a finger and sins unadorned
a single grain of rice worth of psalm
walking in the footprints of men without a memory
baptized in the storm before the calm

night bird, living off the moon, getting colder
reminded of the sun again
young man, trying to be old, now getting older
now wishing to be young again

held in lesser caliber, and well outside the rope
waiting for a turn at the age
painting pillow pictures with vaseline
to fossilize the mimicry of rage

night bird, living off the moon, getting colder
reminded of the sun again
young man, trying to be old, now getting older
now wishing to be young again

a round of applause for this one's portrayal
of a tapestry hanging on a wall
a heart with its veins pulled way too tight
will collapse before it will fall

night bird, living off the moon, getting colder
reminded of the sun again
young man, trying to be old, now getting older
now wishing to be young again

7. at the corner of the top and the bottom

she ain't callin' you tonight
so you can stop hangin' 'round by the phone
no, she ain't callin' you tonight
i know you used to get juiced
but now it's time to get used
to being alone

there's cat up on the second floor
looks like he been dreamin' too
about the same kind of better night
you were hopin' for, for you
but he got a much better chance
he got a satellite dish
while you ain't gettin' what ya want
no matter how hard ya wish

because she ain't callin' you tonight
so you can stop with yer prayers to the phone
no, she ain't callin' you tonight
i know you used to get juiced
but now it's time to get used
to being alone

there's a cat over at "the blue lamp"
sittin' in, playin' rhythm
he ain't much on that guitar
but at least he got it with him
while the baby that you love
she's somewhere out on the road
and until she calls, where she is
man, you don't know

and no, she ain't callin' you tonight
so you can stop meditatin' on the phone
no, she ain't callin' you tonight
i know you used to get juiced
but now it's time to get used
to being alone

now, right there where you're standin'
that's where the top and the bottom join
up north they smokin' fat cigars
down south, they hustlin' for coins
but you ain't got the kind of cash
to drink in any of those joints
but you don't want to go home
there just isn't any point

because she ain't callin' you tonight
so you can stop with yer prayers to the phone
no, she ain't callin' you tonight
i know you used to get juiced
but now it's time to get used
to being alone

8. purgatory's sad little ghost

the world is a far away place
when yer lover doesn't want ya anymore
your feet, they don't even touch the ground
and yer lungs don't breathe any air

your eyes, they don't see anything
and the world doesn't see you or care
you've lost the light that shows them
that you are there

your purgatory's sad little ghost
when yer lover doesn't want ya anymore
your purgatory's sad little ghost
when yer lover doesn't want ya anymore

all day and night you hover
over the filth that soaks the streets
and you float through the smells of this unclean life
and no prints follow your feet

you're dead, but you can't leave
'cause everything reminds you of her
and as long as it does you'll stay around
because everything reminds you of her

your purgatory's sad little ghost
when yer lover doesn't want ya anymore
your purgatory's sad little ghost
when yer lover doesn't want ya anymore

9. whistleman

(please go to the "demanding to be next" lyrics page)

10. antique row

it was the season then, for summer storms
and i'd never seen so many babies born
squirrels died by the thousands then
and the summer birds prayed for them
without a thing better to sing about

the air was full of siren sounds
as speakers slowly turned around
and the tortoise beat the hare again
then flat-out lost to the wind
and all went quiet while the bells were ringing out

and i found a picture of charley patton taken ninety years ago
in a junk shop on antique row

december birthdays kept still
while needles crept up hay hills
and the trees that were planted right
opened up jaw for kite
and laughed at what it's like to be children

and the squeaky wheels went greaseless
while the warm rains were ceaseless
and the birthday clowns went faceless
while the indian corn was tasteless
and we all had the same dream one evening

and i found a picture of john fante taken sixty years ago
in a junk shop on antique row

red and white tablecloths
candlelight and sphinx moths
brittle banjo serenades
whiskeys and lemonades
and a three-cone speaker battery radio

and the roads we walked were made for bends
and the mountain rivers couldn't end
they always sang lead melody
while the summer rains added harmony
and gods left their heavens to come play below

and i found a picture of francis bacon taken thirty years ago
in a junk shop on antique row

it would have been the season then
for dust storms, if the dust had been
where dust storms are supposed to be
but the dust had been declared free
and just like that it went and headed north

and the plains were wide as plains have been
and the flats were flat and the coasts were thin
and the summers hot, and the winters cold
and i was either young, or very old
and from one age to the other i set my course

and i found a picture of myself taken five years ago
in a junk shop on antique row

you find love, you're a lucky man
treat it as precious as you possibly can
don't let a good thing slip through your hand
'else your chardonnay sky will go black and tan
and the rain…will wash you down the drain

the lack of love will drive a man insane
send little tiny devils runnin' 'round his brain
he'll crawl like a baby and cry like the same
soak himself good in the pouring rain, it's a shame…
goin' down the drain

everybody needs a lovin' touch
i got friends who deserve so much
they're not getting' nearly enough
of that good sweet kind lovin' stuff
they're in pain…goin' down the drain

the lack of love will drive a man insane
send little tiny devils runnin' 'round his brain
he'll crawl like a baby and cry like the same
soak himself good in the pouring rain, it's a shame…
goin' down the drain