"Like
a
man, this record is measured by what it
holds in not
by what it gives away."
EM Camuoran5stars
Finally,
it's about splitting a
bottle with Crowson, sitting back and listening to a new song of his
weave four, five minutes late at night. There are empties underfoot, a
cat somewhere around the toe of your boot. It's pleasantly dark, but
maybe that's your vision fading. Crowson plays his new song. You listen
to its crooked path without trying to follow it. Your head starts
nodding, not with sleep, but in agreement, not like for what Townes did
when he reduced a whiskeyed-up farrier to a red-eyed mess, but like for
what Dylan did to Peckinpah when he sang him, "Billy, you're such a
long, long way from home" over coke, weed and tequila until Sam broke
down and said, "You cocksucker, you son of a bitch," with tears in his
eyes.
A handful of
rain in a broken
bottle
A rainbow coming off an oil stain
A broken cork in a muddy puddle
A black top hat on the windowpane
You can get by
quite awhile on
alcohol
It’ll tell you sweet lies about happier times
And maybe you’re there
At the bottom of the stairs
But you don’t care
Cause the walls are angels
Just flapping their wings
Just holding
you up
Just helping you breathe
A handful of
rain in a broken bottle
A rainbow coming off an oil stain
A broken cork in a muddy puddle
A black top hat
on the windowpane
For Old Horse
There’s a
man with hands of cracked leather
There’s another man with his hand on his chin
One appears too high to get up
Hard to tell where the hell he’s been
One could only wonder what his sins are
Or how the hell he could ever get it right
Just then he gets up
Shouts hidy hidy ho
Another round for anyone drinking here tonight
And when you find me my body will be battered
I had to search the dark for the light
It’s the only light that appeared to me to matter
All the rest appeared to be bright lies
Let the moon oh
hide under milky skies
Let the sun shine through heavy souls
May your fevered lips
Get that first cool sip
Of the wine that makes you feel less alone
There’s a
painting of a man with a rifle on his shoulder
But the shadow it cast it appears he’s playing bagpipes
He wouldn’t mind hearing one of those old songs
Before electricity, before electric light
Give him one where God’s amazing grace
Is erased from that book it aint true
Only a man could come up with such rage
A loving God would never turn his back on you
Or maybe one where an angry man finds laughter
Once he beat all the beauty out of his life
Or maybe one where the beat moves a little faster
Something that keeps us on the sunny side of life
Let the moon oh
hide under milky skies
Let the sun shine through heavy souls
May your fevered lips
Get that first cool sip
Of the wine that keeps you from feeling alone
Finito
La Comedia
This
is why he might have went
on the run He
thought he might have
something to say hoping to say it before he was done He
fell for that cowboy
myth whiskey give him rot gut He
was praying for that wine
Jesus made would get him good and drunk
This
is why he might believe
might believe in love Dotty
and Diamond Bill and God
without the rod Mark
M Forget and his
beautiful bride The
little baby girl they made
and the tears that she cried for him
He
wants to thank Mexico for
being so poor For
pushing her grandpa so far
to the north He
wants to say she taught him
more about God then any man should rightly know But
sometimes he prays to cope
who else could come up with Mexico
He
knows everything's broken
and
the rich guys won He
knows they won't remember
what he knows in ten years to come And
his kinda living just
disappears it don't leave no tracks And
his kinda freedom aint
never never coming back
He
don't want to get himself
sober and find she died somewhere else She
was suppose to be the last
he saw he don't want to see nobody else He
wants to thank Mexico for
being so poor For
putting tequila on the
gravesite of those who came before For
putting drugs and dominos
and dice in a cup For
teaching him you can't
live
without love even if you got to make it up
Hardin
No virgin of sorrow got your porch light
off
The light falls from the moon
What's left of it
Dances at your feet
You got gold and amber chips in your hair
Glowing red in your tiny hand
And it looks like you can't
Get off those cigarettes
You've been giving directions to places unknown
Places no one could ever go
Cause they were never there
Don't hold no memory
Marybeth you'll find a way
God could never be that cruel
God'll provide for you
God'll provide for you
I left you in Hardin by accident
The roof fell cause the beams gave in
What's left of them
Were cinders on the ground
Well I took off fast and I took off hard
And I ended up in New York
It's ok
If you like chasing the rent
They bring us in from everywhere
Lima Peru to Cheboygan
To take care of them and their kids
Luxury became necessity to them
I've written your name on the wall of my room
Where the sun shines in the afternoon
You can't see it all the time
Only when the sun shines through
Only when the sun shines through
Somebody said on the side of the road
A car on the road more like the ditch
All right it was me
I saw everything
I saw it coming smelled the gasoline
Right around Christmas and straight through Spring
I was paralyzed by Spring
I loved you all the same
You were so cold then a flower would bloom
With as many steps of stairs as there were rooms
Couldn't see you all the time
But when I did the sun shined through
But when I did the sun shined through
Still got your clock under a shelf
Still reads one and chimes two bells
That thing never chimed true
I'm not shouting I'm thinking bout you
Only when the sun shines through
Only when the sun shines through
Only when the sun shines through
Missouri
Maybe you're leaning against a counter
Maybe you got a picture of yourself on the wall
Maybe you got cuffs in your soldiers pants
Maybe you got a belt buckle on
Maybe you got a picture of your momma
Or Maybe some long haired man
You can see gravity's done a number
On his or her chin can't tell where it starts and where it
ends
Maybe you're from Kentucky
Maybe you got a face like prison bread
And maybe your eyes say I'm happy though
I seen too much to care
Maybe you got a hand in a pocket
At least your fingers and your keys
And maybe your a good man
Though maybe you done quite a few bad things
You go back home you put your boots back on
You fall into the plates
You brake the one her momma gave her
You cry God Jesus musta made at least one mistake
Maybe you had a jealous lover
Or maybe she just had a twin
And maybe you paid her brother
To take her back to Missouri or wherever it else it was she lived
Maybe she was brilliant an administrative genius
Maybe there's a distinction between possession and influence
Maybe she made you trade your gun for a wheel barrel
But first she shot the juice out of a couple hundred plums
Maybe your standing on a corner
And maybe that bus never comes
And maybe you short changed your lover
But God knows you never been taught how to love anyone
Maybe you'll ask for forgiveness
Or maybe you'll just tell a joke
And maybe that bus will finally come
But it's morning and you'll say, "Hey bus driver I think I'll just walk"
