1. |
SBSL test 4.wav
02:38
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Santa Barbara Starfish Lover
Won't you be my valentine
I see you just like no other
Your lips are freedom, let them shine
Black and blue was my good angel
The day she showed me my beloved
My destiny sits on the stage of
The Santa Barbara Starfish Club
Santa Barbara starfish lover
Don't feel ruled by circumstance
Take my hand if you need cover
We'll do the age-old ocean dance
Santa Barbara Starfish Lover
Won't you be my valentine
I see you just like no other
Your lips are freedom, let them shine
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2. |
east berlin.wav
03:58
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It's a long way to East Berlin
It's a longer way to Winnipeg when you're leaving in the morning
From the Cumberland home where your father was born
He's dead and buried now if you believe it
Grab your guitar and your traveling shoes
A pair of Docs with the laces frayed and too tight on the leather
But if nothing else, at least you've got a car that runs
And from time to time it sputters
From time to time it sputters
Fuel up at a truck stop, put some water in the radiator
Bum a cigarette from an old man with a flower print shirt
And he reminds you of your grandpa who always drove a Pontiac
And he always looked to you like Richard Belzer
In one town you meet a girl with diamonds on her shoulder
In another there's another one with painted black nails
And little traces of blue in the strands of her hair
And her bed is made of firewood and sulphur
Her bed is made of firewood and sulphur
She buys you a pack of Edward Gorey tarot cards
And reads to you from a leather-bound edition of the bible
With the words of Christ all printed in red
But nothing makes sense to you so you nod your head and tell her that
You've gotta keep going while the sun's still behind you
It's nipping at your heels and leaving red marks all over
Your left arm in the window and the right one on the wheel
And a piece of black paper on the mirror
And a piece of black paper on the mirror
Manitoba peaks out from the hills past your windshield
And your friends all say they plan to meet you laughing
And they'll raise you up and take care of you when you get drunk
But in the end something will be missing
But in the end something will be missing
You think of your father and the way he went down
Think of the last chance he had to see you
And you imagine a time where his head was unbound
And his love for you was uncomplicated
And his love for you was uncomplicated
It's a long way to East Berlin
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3. |
bomberman.wav
03:01
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Demolition man, tell me you're listening
The charges set, three hours to go
Did you do the math, did you add up the numbers?
Demolition man, are you ready to go?
And the time it takes for the crew to get ready
Is the same time it takes for your phone
To ring a couple hundred times, I guess
Have you nothing to confess?
There's a crowd on the street that's lined up and waiting
There's a camera that's set between you and the sun
There's a woman at home with a knife in her pocket
Does she already know that the damage is done?
And the time it takes for the building to fall
Is the same time it would take for a man
To reach out and say he's sorry for how he's been
It won't happen again
Good lady at home, I know it's a burden
Your fever a hundred, your man on the road
If he blows the dam, will the water run freely?
If he drops the bomb, are you ready to go?
And the time it takes for your fever to break
Is the same time it takes for his plane
To taxi to the gate, are you the first one he calls?
Will you answer at all?
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4. |
hemingway line.wav
03:52
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The last owner of the family gun
Walks alone in the dark of the sun
See him leave through the twenty-foot door
Hit the road for the regular score
There's a man with the light in his eyes
He wants to die by the methods of Christ
Hang him up, let his stomach turn black
Feel the wind like a whip as it cracks
And he'll see
There's a game we play called chutes and snakes
It helps if you give thanks
Shoot the cameraman and steal his flank
Hang the river
Into the trees
The last star of the cinema screen
Tries to tell us what the calendar means
Bottoms up on the Hollywood tour
The wagon's off if you're ready for more
Walk heavy with your map to the stars
Kill the night in the Hollywood bars
Last days on an oxygen tank
Smoking dick while the mountains pull rank
On the sea
There's a game we play called living well
And life's a living hell
Watch the seasons turn and waste them well
Make your living
Suffering fools
Last star, last screen
Last owner, last dream
Last bird, last sky
Bottoms up, last try
The last train on the Hemingway Line
Leaves the station at a quarter to nine
Ticket taker with a pen in his arm
Lays you down on the Michigan farm
Ranch house on the Idaho plains
Topanga Canyon at the death of the day
Phantom pain on the passenger side
Stab the heart and let the carousel fly
Running free
There's a game we play called apogees
They're far from you and me
Carve your wooden stakes and effigies
Pray to Jesus
Carpenter King
There's a game we play called living well
And life's a living hell
Watch the seasons turn and waste them well
Make your living
Suffering fools
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5. |
TASCAM_0907.wav
03:06
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Latch onto the things that bring you comfort
Horror pictures all announce themselves
Slasher killers, things you need to carry
Try to push your life on someone else
Did you ever think that all those lovers
Wanted something more
Than to bend in genuflection while you walked
In and out the door
Dp you think that you're so special you could
Forget the things you felt
Do you think your little grin can move you
In and of itself
Your head is full of little facts and questions
The internet plays tricks upon your mind
The friends you leave, the useless information
The image of a town that's in decline
Do cannibals spark inspiration
Conspiracies bring joy
Do aliens make you feel less like
The elevator boy
Does anybody care about you
The way you want them to
Is the life that you keep building your ticket
Into something new
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6. |
2023_0504T0230CST.mpeg
07:41
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[old pink cadillac]
If I could drive an old pink Cadillac
I would roll up to work and I would not feel so bad about it, baby
Take me with you when you go
If I could have a house down by the ocean
I'd take my coffee to the sound of seagulls honking, baby
Take me with you when you go
I know I'm not a special guy
But you can see the fun in me if you really try
You can take my shirt off and grab a hunk of fat
You'll say, "I'm sure glad I went for a lover like that"
If I could have you and you would run away with me
Then we'd never have to work again, go away and just be happy, baby
Take me with you when you go
[ashcan song]
There's a tug in my chest when the sun tears the sky
It's a cliche to say it, we're all born to die
But it's a comfort to know there's an end to this whole thing I guess
At the end of the day it's no use to get mad
Time's a bitch but it's all that we have
Might as well stick around for the morning and all of the rest
There's a funeral home at the end of the street
Where they made up my friend in the embalming machine
They put him in his best suit and sent him down the river alone
You and I met at his wake in the sand
You were scared when I showed you my detachable hands
But you soon came around when you looked on my ankles of stone
Love, it transmits through the air now and then
I think you caught on to my sorrow-struck wind
And in time we sat down, one and one, inconstantly joined
I tried for a long time to show you my light
All the bad poetry I'd jot down at night
But I've resigned myself, now I just write these songs in your voice
It's the ashcan morning when the smog takes its rest
And the feel of my head nestled into your chest
And the way that the woods seem to move on the edge of the wind
No matter what happens we're interred hand-in-hand
Our deadwagons move on the flat desert land
And it might be a minute, but I'll see you again in the end
There's a tug in my chest when the sun tears the sky
It's a cliche to say it, we're all born to die
But it's a comfort to know there's an end to this whole thing I guess
At the end of the day it's no use to get mad
Time's a bitch but it's all that we have
Might as well stick around for the morning and all of the rest
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lookout mountain Nashville, Tennessee
songs and stories by hank brainard.
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