27 September, 2009

A Town Full Of Fucked Up Loans

Did it tunnel on foot
Did it tuck up front
Did it all end up in the golen shun
On the mind
It'd take your thought
So far
It'd war, on mine.

And we'd nail that cake
And we drove up front
The highland don't
Back up so good

But it'd be a late thing
My score and drug
I'll die, through the fire.

With a tumblin ride
To the lake
My tie unhooked today
Where would Marilyn take
Wade to die?
When the Lord came tumbling by.

Get a Buffalo cold
But I better not drink it...
What Lord
And adrenaline shake
All nice and fried, and...
Oh, the love
I'd love tonight.

Well we're not in State
Near the puddled lakes
And will burn the night, oh the night!
In the town where we'll put it all right
It's a crime to get baked and fight.

We've a yen to go
Where we'll crawl with souls
In nights and tents all black
With a quarter tank full
And hate
What's that light in the way?

Oh, I'll come around five
On my break from the pew
And I'm too old now
For the young and few...
And a red cape made
For my dead, my bro
Won't you meet me at the bar?

By now my fate
Is that they all look down
They're wild about young lights now.
So I'm checking on Paul
In his grave by the heights.
And I'll meet you tonight,
I'll meet you tonight.

Churches chime
And I'm falling, Jackie
In a town full of fucked up loans.
So in the city off yonder
Why'd they take away
So many dreams
To die with their young?

And I wish you made me silent
And I wish you'd aged tonight
And I wish you'd need more
Baby, please... tonight.

3 comments:

Ande said...

Yes!; where does the dreams of refuge and wealth all this millions and millions of individuals have end up, other than in collective despair, if they all make it? I have long felt that Americas problems is its huge successes, and you song (and explanation) makes me think so even more. Many peoples lives are spent dreaming of things they never dare, or are unable, to get, I think. The mere hope of actually be able to reach daydreams must be enough to all sorts of epic and hideous things.

Andy Coffey said...

Ande,

Thanks for your comment.
Two things: you mentioned Cromwell. And the Puritan movement, and Calvinism in general created perhaps the most ironic moment in American History when, just as a people met a country fabulously rich (America has ALWAYS been rich. Even at the dead beginning.) to sink their teeth into, they came to realize that the very riches of the countyside, were going to pervert the reason they came here. It was a constant source of stress for the Early religious zealot's in New England, to see their coming prosperity, and the "energy" that always entails (disruptive) for a culture.

This song is meant as much for my friends who even today would rather die, than be discovered for who they reallly are; as it is for my friends who return from war nearly dead, or dead; or as my old roomate back in the nineties suffered, having had his entire humanity consumed by the mandate of killing. My buddy was a strong black man from the ghetto, but war turned him into a groveling fool. The last time I saw him he was in my arms weeping for the miscarriage his 15 year old girlfreind had suffered. He was 37 years old.
Diversity, properly executed, will give you multitudes indeed. But these dead and broken, as well as my fabulously successful, stable friends, are my people. And we are burdened by this time we have on our hands: like the Buddha, to ask, "What is this suffering."

Aj Strong said...

This sounds nothing like you, but yet so much like you.
We should play this more.