…
This little work of art, you might call it a music video that I worked on all morning, must now be abandoned. Put it under your wing if you have a moment, and give it a hug.
Going Back to Work Again
Black morning coffee, yes, I’m walking.
Subway sleeping, no one talking.
Every day, it never ends.
I spend my time with locks and keys
in a ghetto factory
and every morning it’s back to work again.
Lunchtime the ladies say,
“The war was over yesterday.”
But I say, “No, we’ll shake to the bitter end.
Dropping bombs, chopping hands
never changed the heart of man.
No, tomorrow morning it’s back to work again.”
Going back, going back
Going back, going back
Going back to work again
Old Sisyphus did fine
pushing one rock all the time
and I’m going back to work again.
On the A train riding home
I saw Jesus casting stones.
I cried, “Lord, you said that was a sin.”
He said, “Son, I guess that’s so
but I never said I couldn’t throw
Now you get on back to work again.”
Going back, going back
Going back, going back
Going back to work again
Old Sisyphus did fine
pushing one rock all the time.
I’m going back to work again.
A cool dark well I thought I found.
Deep and wide, I could not drown.
Quenched all my sorrows at my rainbow’s end.
Hold me, honey, squeeze me tight.
See if we can’t make it last all night.
Tomorrow morning it’s back to work again.
Going back, going back
Lord, Lord, I’m going back
Going back to work again
Old Sisyphus did fine
pushing one rock all the time
And I’m going back to work
Going back to work
Going back to work again.
…
Friday Night Apocalypse Stew
A white trash witch named Dolly was my baby.
Every day she read my cards.
She said, “Don, soon the end’s gonna come
and the end is often hard
though to begin or end are painlessly the same
most of us only get as far
as a sacrificial torture rack before nothingness
Life the whip lash, we the scar.”
And Dolly had a baby.
Uncircumcised she raised him up.
She said, “Liberty’s desire manifested physically.
Boy, you walk the streets with a hard-on.”
Seems she conjured up a thunderstorm.
Consumed its fire, drank its rain.
That was when some Christians came
to burn a cross and pray.
Well, the cross burned so bright
that though it was night
well, it could have been the day
when Dolly, “Son, there’s no right or wrong.
You can do just what you want, baby.
But watch a blind child tear apart
what is closest to his heart.
See his hate intensely loving
in his oven jelly-rolling Jews, baby.”
The Führer and his lady
thought it best to rise at dawn
to pour the gas and strike the match.
She put her makeup on.
The Pekinese was barking.
Such a cute dog, so well bred.
Isn’t it the perfect day
to put a bullet through his head?
“O dear Eva, we make such a pretty flame.
Don’t you know for one more kiss
Well, I’d do it all again.
But I’d be careful who I swallowed.
I’d be sure with whom I ate.
And I’d always know who I was gunning down
when I did it in the street.
No, it’s never wise to hypnotize
those who walk a vicious dog
or seek them follow those silent souls
who write their talking on the walls.
They don’t mean anything at all.
Walls crumble after all.
Just like when empires fall.
They don’t mean anything at all.”
