1. 47th Problem back to album list |
|
47th Problem Thin Ice It was the ninth day of the ninth month of the ninety-ninth year And nine times a day I’d ask myself, what the hell am I still doing here? Nine times I tried leaving, lord, nine times I turned back home, But it was ten times then that I decided, in the morning, I’m gone. Chorus: And I’m walking on thin ice, I’m walking on a razor blade, I’m walking on down the road, down the interstate . . . without her. I lived in the city once man, you know I lived there hard. And I lived in the country too, just drinking and playing cards. But the dead man’s hand is eights and aces and I drew it all the time, And now I count my losses, she’s not here, and eight plus one is nine. Some mornings I wake to a stranger’s face and I think it could be her, But then she fades beyond my reach back into dreams of what we were. Some mornings I want to go back to sleep the very moment that I rise And go walking through those dreams where she’s still by my side. So curse the light that comes in my room, curse that morning sun, Curse those people who are at my neck, I don’t need ‘em, not a one. Because I had me a lover once and she’s frozen back in time, But I can still see her when I sleep and when I’m drunk and high. It was the ninth day of the ninth month of the ninety-ninth year . . . Beirut Boogie Is there none, is there none, none to help the widow’s son? Is there none, is there none, none to dance to the morning sun? None to dance to the morning sun? It’s so bad, I’m leaving, it’s so bad you’re coming too, It’s so bad I just want to break even, even if you don’t want me to, Even if you don’t want me to . . . Chorus: I’ll do the Beirut Boogie, left foot in. Beirut Boogie, right heel too. Beirut Boogie, throw your arms in the air, Arms in the air the air and I’ll boogie with you. I’m going down to see a band, Franz Ferdinand is playing too, I’ll take my rifle, take my hymnal, it’s just a Sunday afternoon, Just a Sunday afternoon . . . Take a little trip, have a little vision, take a little vision down to the club, Ring around, ring around, we’ll all fall down then we’ll all make love, All fall down then we’ll all make love . . . So is there none, is there none, none to help the widow’s son? Is there none, is there none, none to dance to the morning sun? None to dance to the morning sun? Find My Way Home When the snow is on the hilltops And the grinders have shut down at the mill And the lights in the windows have all stopped a’ shining And I’ve been out and drunk my fill, Chorus: I pray I can find my way home one more time, Find my way back home to you, Because you know I will always be there to love you When there ain’t nothing else left to do. There’s a road that leads that weary traveler To the promise of a far off inn Through the hills and the valleys that he’s only dreamed of, Through the dreams that he’s only been. Though the snow is on the hilltops, I can feel the spring in my bones And even though I ain’t even there yet, Something tells me I’m already gone. Yeah, you know I will always be there to love you When there ain’t nothing else left to do. Willie Mays Pinstripes and diamonds and overhead lights, Million mile stars twinkle through million dollar nights. The sphere’s set in motion, twelve stations on the air, It curves and it spins through the overhead glare And home plate is dusty tonight. Oh yeah, it’s dusty tonight. Chorus: But everything changes, everything stays the same, Everything that goes away just comes back again. It’s all broken though, but that’s okay, Still, tonight you know, tonight you know, tonight you know I miss Willie Mays. Oh say “hey,” I miss Willie Mays. Everything’s relative now and the gods are on the floor With needles in their arms and Nietzsche’s knocking at the door. And Charles Darwin and the man in the moon Are sipping Russian vodka as the sun rises too soon And home plate is dusty, Oh yeah, it’s dusty tonight. Even the Babe it seems now, has lost his charm. The Bombers just went and bought up a whole ‘nother set of arms. The Cardinals will gather beneath the great western arch, They’ll have to wait a little while though, it’s still only March And the keystone is dusty, Oh yeah, it’s dusty tonight. The Only Thing I stood at my window this morning and watched dawn’s fingers peel away the night. At closing time it all seems so far away, Before you know it though, you’re standing in the light. Chorus: But the only thing you have to fear is the fear inside your own heart. The only thing that will ever stop you, babe, Is whatever won’t let you get your start. Well, every here and every now is just another dream finally coming true. Some are good you know, and some are bad, Some you dream yourself, some get dreamt for you. And you are such a sure thing, you’re impossible too. You could be everything and nothing at the same time too G3 Blues Well, it looks like rain in Amsterdam, though I woke up in the sun. The queen, she’s riding in a funeral coach and the end of time’s just begun. The screen is flickering, reception’s bad, split scenes change one by one. Three men in long black coats bow down, the procession just moves on. And autumn is another word for fall, boys, Autumn is another word for fall. Everybody’s riding in a funeral coach And autumn’s a word I rarely here at all. Now, some days, you know, they’re just bad, some days bad feels good, Some days I feel completely lost, other days I just know I should. But it really don’t matter what you think of me or what I think of you, All that really matters is what I see and how it gets me through. And autumn is another word for fall, boys, Autumn’s is another word for fall. All that really matters is what I hear And autumn’s a word I rarely hear at all. Now the coals are burning in the stove and that kettle is about to boil And I feel like I’m melting from the inside out like some white-hot mortal coil. But over there, across the street, the crows are landing on the power line— All of them looking for something dead to eat or else something left behind. And autumn is another word for fall, boys, Autumn is another word for fall. Everybody looking for something left behind And autumn’s a word I rarely hear at all. I’ve got the G3 blues. Big Wave My old neighbor went in the first wave From Normandy Beach all the way to the Champs-Élysées. If you ask him now he’ll say, “Those were the days, Those Parisian women, lord, we sure had it made.” Chorus: When the big wave rolls, who’s gonna stop it? When the big wave breaks, man, are you gonna stop it? When the big wave crashes down, who’s gonna stop it? No one, no one. Easy street is filling up, The bulls are running but the lamb, it just ain’t catching up. And down at the circle it’s the right or the left, Either one you choose on the other side you meet with all the rest. On the Jersey Shore now you know, they’re waxing their boards. But it’ll take a hurricane to know what they’re even for. But out in Malibu you know there’s never a doubt, But the mansions are moving there Saint Peter is finally giving out. They used to speak of streets paved with gold, They used to say the eyes are the windows to a soul. But now the cobblestones are torn up, concrete’s getting old, And I guess some of us are just too damn young to ever really know. And my old neighbor went in the first wave From Normandy Beach all the way to the Champs-Élysées. If you ask him now he’ll say, “Those were the days, Oh, what I would do to get back just one of those days.” And those were the days, but these are also the days Joshua, James is managing the laundromat and Judas is doing well in school And your brother Joe, he’s got another one on the way. And your brother Simon, you know he OD’d again But he’s back in rehab, though this time I know it will take. I saw you in that magazine with that girl of ill-repute, It looked like neither of you had slept for days. Have you been eating right? Have you been saying your prayers? Stay away from the wine and don’t you think it’s time you cut that hair? Chorus: Joshua, you know your mother loves you, Though you worry her to death out on that road, But it’s kind of like your song about that prodigal son: It’s never too late to find your way home. Can’t you be more like your cousin John, you know he never lost his head, He was a singer too, but he never drank a drop. He used to sing them old gospel songs and play the piano too But the thing about John, he just knew when to stop. The last time you played here, I know it didn’t go all that well, A lot of folks wanted their money back after the show. But you’ve got to understand them son, you were putting on such an awful front And your hometown just wants that Joshua they used to know. Aww, Jesus Christ son, don’t you think it’s time you got your butt back home? Heavy Poems I was loaded on the floor, passed out in my clothes, Reading heavy poems—I went down just like stone. I heard your feet when you came in, will you put me into bed? I heard your car come down the road. I heard your feet when you came in. I heard your car come down the road. I heard your car when you came in. And I was only half asleep. I was flying in my dreams. I was really getting scared. I was pulling on the line. I was calling out your name. I was making better plans. I was rearranging time. I heard your car come down the road. I heard your car when you came in. I heard your car come down the road But even when we’re face to face, I’m a thousand miles away— In the future or the past. Do I flicker on and off? Well, I’ve always been this way. There’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing you can say. I heard your car come down the road. I heard your car when you came in. I heard your car come down the road And I was loaded on the floor, passed out in my clothes, Reading heavy poems, and I went down just like stone. I heard your feet when you came in, will you put me into bed? I heard your car come down the road. I heard your feet when you came in. I heard your car come down the road. I heard your car when you came in. I heard your car come down the road, I heard your car when you came in. 9th Floor Down there the soldiers dress in green and the school girls all wear plaid, But I’m up here on the ninth floor doing my best to feel sad. And the preacher’s here, he’s wearing black just like some morbid duck Who’s out of place on solid ground and says, “Quack,” instead of good luck. And they’re acting out their ending like it’s some old high school dance With just a power ballad soaring and a ghost left for a chance. Chorus: And some people say that a fool’s heart is in the house of mirth. And some people say that a wise man, mourns his time on earth. But I seem to think that no lover is ever lost, Not even one. Worlds they come and worlds they go, a new one is born each day, And I’ve cried for some that had to leave and some that had to stay. But now I’m crying here again as I’m laughing at this joke. Where we’ll wake tomorrow I guess I can never really know. But if I’m proud here in my purple, forgive me just because I’m feeling a shade or two greener than I ever really thought I was. Now there’s a blonde across the hall and a brunette I’d like to find. But my love it lies true with the lady who pours that sweetest wine. And my cup it runneth over, my cup it is never full, Because saints’ blood is on my lips and my suit is made of wool. Even so, I’m just a man here for whatever that’s worth, With just these words to give the empty sky and bones to give the earth. |
|
