Nightcap: The Unreleased Masters 1973-1991

I walked down that boulder road,
Through a child's eye saw places where i used to go.
Where i crawled barefoot with a fishing pole
To the rock that overlooked that steelhead hole
But it's true--silver river turning blue.

It was a small town in a smaller world.
Just a black dot on an old map with its edges curled.
Where they built their industries on the edge of town--
Leaching chemicals from underground
Now it's true--that silver river turning blue.

Just got a late reaction. face reality and stare it down.
Sometimes it's harder hanging on. much easier to look around.
But i need that job.

Well, this place no city: we're just small players here.
Like a million other heroes drinking poor man's beer.
We know what's right. we're just living it wrong.
But there's no easy answer in the green man's song.
What do you do? when your river's turning blue.

One two three two

The editor lies screaming (begging in his working drink),
Questioning ``who is god's favorite rock star this week?''
And will the front page pay [take?] him?

The deadline for the headline is the breadline.

[instrumental]

Last light's out
They're all abed
And something's in my room
Creeping down towards me on the wall

Daddy said it's just some flickering
Headlight through the gloom
Making shapes through trees outside the hall

But what the hell does he know?
He doesn't feel the dread
The cold restricting terror in the dark

I've seen that silhouette before
Something the newsman said
Something about some monster in the park

Chorus:
It's you, you're the man on the tv screen
It's you front page face of the dead
Locked up in the light of day
At night come out to play
To terrorize me there above my bed

The air is still and heavy now
There's thunder in the sky
He's dreaming up some message he can send

I'm scared completely helpless
And i think i'm going to cry
Are grownups brave or do they just pretend?

His face is growing clearer
I can see his eyes glow red
My teddy bear's the only friend i can feel

The shadow's hand slips down the wall
And touches teddy's head
I now suspect that shadow will touch me

Chorus

Repeat chorus

It's you...

In long years of ancient time, stood alone a friend of mine.
Reflected by the ever-burning sigh of a god who happened by.

And in the dawn, there came the song
Of some sweet lady singing in his ear.
Your god has gone, and from now on,
You'll have to learn to hate the things you fear.

We want to know, are we inside the womb?
Of passion plays, in thy righteousness consumed?
Or just in lush contentment of our souls?

And so began the age of man,
And they left his body in the sand.
Their glasses raised to a god on high,
Who smiled upon them from the sky.

So take the stage.
Spin down the ages.
Loose the passion.
Spill the rage upon your son
Who holds the gun up to your head.
The play's begun.

Then god, the director, smells a rat.
Pulls another rabbit from his hat.
Sniffs the air and he says ``well, that's that--i'm going.''

Brain-storming, habit-forming, battle-warning weary winsome actor spewing
Spineless chilling lines--
The critics falling over to tell themselves he's boring
And really not an awful lot of fun.

Well who the hell can he be when he's never had v.d.,
And he doesn't even sit on toilet seats?

Court-jesting, never-resting--he must be very cunning
To assume an air of dignity
And bless us all
With his oratory prowess,
His lame-brained antics and his jumping in the air.

And every night his act's the same
And so it must be all a game of chess he's playing--

But you're wrong, steve. you see, it's only solitaire.

The master playwright
Urges you to play right/play wrong;
Life is long and every night's the first night.

The wardrobe mistress
Urges you to dress left/dress right;
What a mess when your underpants are too tight.

Who's on the stage door
To help you find the way in/way out?
It's not a sin to be knowing that you don't know.

When you breathe your last line
Will you make your exit stage left/stage right?
Well, you might decide while there's still time.

You have an angel on your shoulder
But you wear the old god's horns.
And you dance around the maypole
While the vicar makes a toast
To the pagan celebration
And extends an invitation to us all
So he can save us when we fall.

Who's your leading lady?
Will you help to get her off the bus? it's best
To pass the test before you get too lazy.

Strike up the orchestra.
Take your cues on the up-beat/beat down
Anyone who says he doesn't like the sound.

Young gladys was a silky maiden
At thirteen, she was going strong, yeah.
Oh, gladys.

Nicely filled out, fully laden,
But down below there was something wrong, yeah.
Oh, gladys.

Nobody told her about the secrets
That ladies have to hide
Mom had no words to describe the things
That happened inside.
Need someone to help me,
I feel that there's a curse on me, oh.

Went down into the local disco,
For what used to be the one night, yeah,
Oh gladys.

Felt a searching hand to frisk her,
Along the legs of the water line, yeah,
Oh gladys.

Now gladys knew she was in no condition
In no mood to play

I cracked a knee in her soft spot, nothing
Had got in her way.

I want no one to touch me,
I feel there's a curse on me, oh.

Directed down to the local drugstore
Got fixed up, now she's doing fine, yeah
Oh gladys

Equipped with various kinds of apparatus
You know the feminine hygiene kind, yeah
Oh gladys

Must have been a man to do these things
Who won her fall from grace
That day he programmed me
[that lady programmed me?]
You should have seen the smile on his face
He said ``you'll need someone to help you
When you feel like cursing me'', oh.

Did you learn your lines today?
Well, there is no rehearsal.
The tickets have all been sold
For tomorrow's matinee.

There's a telegram from the writer,
But there is no rehearsal.
The electrician has been told
To make the spotlights brighter.

There is one seat in the circle--
Five hundred million in the stalls.
Simply everyone will be there,
But the safety curtain falls
When the bomb that's in the dressing room
Blows the windows from their frames.
And the prompter in his corner is sorry that he came.

There is one seat in the circle--
Five hundred million in the stalls.
Simply everyone will be there
But the safety curtain falls
When the bomb that's in the dressing room
Blows the windows from their frames.
And the prompter in his corner is sorry that he came.

When the bomb that's in the dressing room
Blows the windows from their frames.
And the prompter in his corner is sorry that he came.

Did you learn your lines today?
Well there is no rehearsal.
The interval will last until
The ice-cream lady melts away.

The twelve piece orchestra are here,
But there is no rehearsal.
The first violinist's hands are chilled--
He's gone deaf in both ears.

Well, the scenery is colorful,
But the paint is so damn thin.
You see the wall behind is crumbling,
And the stage door is bricked in.
But the audience keep arriving
'til they're standing in the wings.
And we take the final curtain call,
And the ceiling crashes in.

All right and honorable gentlemen
And lady, too
Will kindly try to restrain themselves
In derring-do

As verbal hard graffiti flies
And echoes wall to wall
Our precious model of democracy
It's the house of commons brawl

One member from some dark mill town
Furious did cry
Spittle froth from folded chin
To dim the lie

Let's serve this brief and list the rush
Of who's allowed catcalls
Let's finish this right here and now
At the house of commons brawl

Kick, punch with the government
As with jackets off they fly heaven-bent
Scratch gouge with the other side
As the party firmly admit a fight

Another day in the lives of those
Who would guide us through
If all is prepped that we should
By their example do
But there again i think for less
For gyving to the wall
The wrong house but the right idea
To end the commons brawl

Critic of the black and white
It's your first night.
The passion play gets in the way,
Spoils your insight.

Tell me how the baby's made,
How the lady's laid,
Why the old dogs howl with sadness.

The blue thing in the ball leaves naught but a bloody footprint on
The memory of last summer's trip to europe

Did you buy a passport from the queen?

And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away on the bony
Shoulder of a young horse named george who stole surreptitiously
Into her geography revision.
The examining body examined her body.

Tear it down in double quick time
To get the eighth truck shifted 'bout midnight
The locker rooms are empty but the [strobo tickers?][strobe boats?]
Still spin with their pitching lights
And someone with a yellow pass
Gives out precise directions as to where and when

And here am i with a drumstick,
While young girls set to rendezvous, and be recognized again
Tomorrow is an off-day,
Be in baltimore by thursday is the only law.
There's a suite down at the hotel
Reserved for making merry with connecting doors.
The lighting man's already improvised a bar,
And printed invitations to the ball.
Off duty cops line corridors wearing tull [two?] t-shirts proudly
On the band's [...] wall

Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives,
Best boots and road suits and nine lives.

Feeling that it might be wrong to
Temporarily belong to the p.a. man [men?]
Some angel from the midwest is regretting being
Undressed with no suntan
His polaroid is snapping
The head carpenter is rapping on
The gates of dawn

Sitting lonely with a warm beer
The girl with dental braces wishes that she hadn't gone.

Crew nights, no bar fights or [feeders?] [veeders?] wives
Thin walls and late [blade?] calls and nine lives.

[ken stitzel writes: still no clue on the first line, but i think
``late calls'' is definitely correct for the second line. it makes
Sense from a stagehand terminology perspective. i know that it
Sounds like there's a ``b'' sound in there, but i think it's just a
Minor flaw in ian's diction. (it's really tough to sing clearly,
Especially in rock music.)]

Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives,
Best boots and road suits and nine lives.

Stopped off on a long drive.
Down from the high country.
Spent a long time sitting here,
Long time counting hot miles.
Ohh, oh i'd like a cup of black coffee and a piece of sweet cake.
But the girl in the print dress doesn't want my money--
She won't take it: she says--

Oh she says.
Oh she says i just know you're a leo,
I can tell you've got a lion's heart.
She went on in this way for a while,
Like some 60's sister playing a part.
Ohh this cup of black coffee gonna do me just fine.
Through the dust in the mirror tiles i can see that door,
Keep it close behind.

Oh she says.
She says, come on over to my house,
Make a journey here sometime.
You know there's a party going on,
A ladder in my stocking you can climb,
There's a ladder you can climb.

Oh she looked so liberated.
She was looking fit to start.
She got this back to front and sideways,
Wore her sleeve upon her heart.
Ohhh, oh, just one more coffee's 'bout all i can take.
Have to do a truck stop runner now.
I'm not man enough to make it,
She says.
She says.

Oh she says.
She says, come on over to my house,
Make a journey here sometime.
You know there's a party going on,
A ladder in my stocking you can climb,
There's a ladder you can climb.

Stopped off on a long drive.
Down from the high country.
Spent a long time sitting here,
Long time counting hot miles.
Ohh, oh i'd like a cup of black coffee and a piece of sweet cake.
But the girl in the print dress doesn't want my money--
She won't take it: she says--

Oh she says.
She says, come on over to my house,
Make a journey here sometime.
Kick off those tired sports shoes--
Got a ladder in my stocking you can climb,
There's a ladder you can climb.

Truck stop runner.

I'll be a truck stop runner.

The tiny ant leaves his tiny ant drops in the sand,
And makes his home inside a rusty watering can,
Occasionally going out to look for bread and jam.

He runs into a sparrow who hasn't eaten for a week,
And later, quite contented, the sparrow cleans his beak,
Failing to notice pussy cat has come out to take a leak.

Our cat partakes of dinner when a sodden kangaroo
Emerges from the undergrowth and asks to use the loo.
Kangaroos aren't usually dangerous, for that would never do.

My goodness, will you look at all the animals queuing on the stairs!
Look at the animals in the zoo; how would you like to be one?
They're waiting to use the lavatory and putting chewing gum in each
Other's hair.
Look at the animals, look at you; well how would you like to free one?

Good gracious, will you look at all the animals playing with their tools!
Look at the animals, look at you; well how would you like to queer one?
Flying from the chandeliers and treading in their elephantine stools.
Look at the animals, two by two; aren't you glad to be one?

This kangaroo's a lunatic and his pouch is very full
Of pussy cats and penguins who can't fly as a rule,
But then neither could the pussy cat: he never went to school.

The kangaroo gets nervous when confronted by the size
Of an elephant named simon who is always telling lies;
He swears he wears green corduroys and can button up his fly.

Presently, a fatter simon's indigestion fails.
He regurgitates the whole damn mess into an aluminum pail,
And the tiny ant scuttles back inside his watering can
Occasionally going out to look for bread and jam.

Got a grand house out in the country.
Marble pillars holding the door.
Empty bottles lining the wall from the night before.
Got a roller out in the garage.
But the wheels are stuck to the floor.
Got no reason to go anywhere--no friends call anymore.
I don't want to be me, i don't want to be me,

I know it's hard to see, but i don't want to be me.
Had me playing down at the palace.
I was declared the belle of the ball.
Made the boys take my goods and chattels away--
Now i'm staring at an empty hall.
I don't want to be me.

Pardon me--i'm on my way.
Pardon me but i'm going.
Taking on the simple life and i feel the grass roots growing.
I'm going to ride the ragged road--
Diamond spurs jangling into the sunset.
No circuits running overload--well maybe i'm not done yet.

Now there's nothing left in the cupboard
And three bears' been eating my soup.
My life is one big critical mess if you take a look.
And the butler's off in ibiza on expense account gone berserk.
But i can't check out of this crazy world
Without being a jerk--i don't want to be me.

She moves with machinery for the fancy sports car trade.
Part of the industrial process: she sees that they stay made.
She works from early a.m.. they work her to the bone.
When i call her in the evening, she's too tired to lift the phone.

Damned if i'll wait for her, and i'll be damned if i don't.
Damned if i only see that rosa on the factory floor.

Signed on for the duration. they say she came from the east.
With her tool bag and her coveralls, to pay the rent at least.
She doesn't talk with workers on the rest of the line
And over in the canteen, she's alone most of the time.

Somewhere in her history is a lock without a key.
She doesn't trust the management--and she won't trust me.
We're two different animals. we live jungles apart.
She circles round her freedom and i circle round her heart.