x4 song patterns & simple-shit lyric concerns!
Off top 9:45 Oct. 1975 Sat.
I woke up laughing & all my body was Rooting for itself Hands like pom pom girls No struttin feathers for boys The elastic band of wellwishers Going it & get carried away Radio wires was gone down That didn’t keep us from dancing “It was from fear that all other deviations and evil arose” it said from this book. Slipflower second and it’s got a Magic moment, recollection of the magic The door was flat and they Left it open, the reason was near it on the floor. Their Odors and parts of them wanted to Mingle, that old book when it Fell off give each 3 a clip at the same time Fingers was drawn on wall To point at victims & victors & all who was in there it meant the same different thing. They took it a commune for health of their new kids, them Xs of powder for some bug’s kids. Yah no Yah no -found it to be a luvin’ freedom & (fun) They get diff things, them All going in from the flesh out -the fat one w/ little digits sticks ‘em down to the cooler sand & thinks their hands can feel it enough to look right. (They can’t see and it needs a different expression). They is loved & lovely in that Light they can’t see, like them had brains hanging out to get fumigate. We go “all right” to them funny smells and look to them with slow love. Them caught clips of misunder- stand it on the fuel to the fire and they was have a ladder from their eyebrows touch the floor. When they keep moving, if they was alone, they’d go swayin’. What was it? Goes like: a dumb Open mouth is the root of chaos. Stole it then tries to say what it mean. My bro. go it w/ a arts ‘n’ crafts Belt for me Keep that synapse in the brain Choose yer diction, that reality Post yer bill shit on head of eyes Break it over a clip He can’t keep the beat He can’t keep the beat Send it trace thru black Beam of the charge what come thru you put it on a side It get ready for expression That thing come thru violent You get so berserk inside -It would clip you & fall For them ax grinds? He go it like a fighter We put a snake in He die slow, she slip in innocent River meet a blob of concrete Them expects too much, take floor, go it to piss, Then back for more. Move it thorough & stir That kind of dense action Sweet meeting Get them animals Them got to smell it, touch it Pick it like a flower It’s $ cuts Pull back near a card They call some office. To put our identity past them Offerings, they chose our Sex different It an ornery fucked head & drone ________________________ Talking H. Them need rep Need them flowers Them got fast Has it to be got Money $ You poke around for it Gives you a cut You find it You go and do nothing w/ it You give $ … -dedicated to TALKING HEADS I just unearthed the notebook this was scrawled in… I wrote this spontaneously in a friend’s vacationing friend’s apartment on East 1st Street Manhattan (a stone’s throw from then-new CBGB’s on the Bowery) where I met, became fast with ze Heads... and left them a copy at their loft before returning to Denver ahead of my move to 7th St. dreams in the head of becoming the 4th Head, with luck! That longago weekend in an uptown club basement dressing room I was offered some pure cocaine which seemed to rewire my brain & mood for days, reflected in adopting certain novel speech/language patterns as above! so b'low |
