Natural Blue
Lyrics by John Brenner.
Sonic Tonic
Look homeward angel, separated by the sea. I drop by distant you, and mercy will sit between. After a dream: all day walking in fog, to the pure all things are pure. My face is empty, with flecks of ecstasy. Yet I would let fall walls guarding an uneasy peace. It's just a dream, everything that you saw. The impure brings something impure.
Moonshine and Mead
You push the product. You buy to be what is low. Who then is free? A scarecrow? Bondage with ease. How do you know what you don't know? Chance is all we have. We're like a whirlwind. We live life at third hand. We are such great fools. We play a game of swans. Snake oil, idols of the tribe, shadows, idols of the cave. How do you know what you don't know? Chance is all we have.
NOS
Attired with stars, no man would be old. Everything is endured: the bread that we store, our casual creeds, the gold we hide furtively. Believe what is true. Love what is rare. Drink what is clear. There's so much blood there. Our hands blistering from their haste. Our backs caving in with the weight. Return more; don't ignore. One moment it's you, then soaring wind. Rising I let it carry me, as if it were the first rain, to where lies seem like reason. Return more; don't ignore. Tripping across my bones on the floor, one picture atop the other. The sorrow of scars and brown rivers. Feel! as if nothing else matters.
Something's Gotta Happen
Between days, plumbing wells, building ruins, inner hells. Spitting stars, and all is sky. Tomorrow, the moon: now a far-frozen time. Transition, whale-blue dreams, the slow motion chase, bones on the beach--things I've become--sirens whale-blue. The painful burden of nothing to do. What's going on? Nothing much. The cynicism of this meager touch. A crucible for distant ennui, obsessed with your everyday irony.
Bottom of the Hill
All my life, I've lived at the bottom of the hill, always waiting, amphora never filled. Men from the sea might rise, lifetime never known, soul of sweet delight, there's no going home. Wait for Lazarus, but he won't come forth. Pain or lament are more than mere words. Too much love of living...I hestitated and fell. If I had known, I wouldn't have lingered. Men from the sea might rise, lifetime never known, soul of sweet delight, there's no going home. My strength is not the strength of stone. There was a man in the land of Uz. Stand and unfold yourself. I've been such a fool. Show me the steep and thorny way, but stretch forth your hand. What hour now for the forgotten man?
Dog and Pony Show
This salv... your salvation, a little rebellion. Trust no future. Some reprieve. You call for faith. Art was made to disturb the world, which seems to lie. Climb the cross of the moment while humanity is sold in shame. The wolf howls each yellow morning. Stuff wax in my ears. Dying piecemeal (or so we argue)—I'm sick at heart. We have no need for genius. Our discovery ends there. Heroes come back from war, none intact--what will people say?
One O'Clock Whistle
In the distance, sirens. Jump at this dead hour. Wild-eyed, I am too much in the sun, willed beyond my power. A little more than kin, straw sins. In the rainy season, closed despite the sun, a clarion to call me home, my fingers going numb. Every Monday, run away. I’ll stand in these four corners though hell itself should gape. I'll cross it, though it blast me and walk right through the gate.
Natchel Blue
It was a lurid start, acrid sweat and agony. No one could cross three thousand miles gathering prayers. You there, quickly forgetting my spilled words. Me, here, wondering what I meant. Only sometimes does it mean we’ll be here to see them bloom. One moment your life is a stone, and the next, a star. You, there, quickly forgetting my spilled words. Me, here, wondering what I meant. In this dark world and wide dollar go from hand to hand. The world is never small, and you shouldn’t treat it so.
Horse Before the Cart
Through the open window, dizzy with your presence, I chanced upon the mirrors, wheeling west on 24th. Then it all vanished in the breaking storm, the train to Centre and a hanging goodbye. I’m feeling your anger. The night, agitated. You’re leaving for nowhere, this music never heard. Forgetting altogether, making up excuses, standing on fishes, no praise for lies. Jugglers, fire-breathers just beyond my window, your dying applause...I pretend not to hear.
Lemongrass
Give me the green sun. How blue, dear. Ah! blue… . Each word must sleep unspoken. What fields as fragrant as hands? Sickness, my new obsession. These infections know no latitude. On the verge of going blind. The salt of most unrighteous tears. Touching this dreaded sight. Lost you a little less. Reaching, never touching. Life lightly brushes your lips.