A CANTINA IN MY BACK POCKET FOR YOU
had a cantina in my back pocket for you
nobody won the door prize
couldn't keep the heat in
someone invented whiskey
claimed we'd have our day
hard of hearing government killer love child
wants to assess my real estate value
i climb inside my hair
tell them the truth
i was born when the Earth coughed up something lovely
take the number they give you and have a good time
i was harboring no grude
i left all my grudges in the harbor
i met a would be judge of all that walked and talked off kilter
boy, he was one sure pure mess
the daughter of the first civilized man
she claims i owe her a fortune
when i check out the circumference of my trash bag
all i can do is tell her behave
had a cantina in my back pocket for you
will send it UPS to whatever war you fall in love with
come on honey
don't go mistaking the sun for just one more shroud
the rumors they claim they know the trade
i see them in the parking lot, wounded, without hope
oh come once and come if you mean it
come across the barbed armageddon and tell me your
paltry wondrous desires
the oxen are friendly
they wait patient for the cock to crow
but the cock, he is in jail
and the crow, well, he just won't ever really tell
dog comes walking funny
dog says Oz is going off the air and is morose
we go looking for icecream
and that is where the sound system
learned to care
---Scott Wannberg, 1/25/03
(listening to Slaid cleaves
drinking Trader Joe's coffee
just finished watching Shenandoah on TCM with James Stewart
the same movie that spawned a musical
saturday.) |
