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Buck 65-Square 1
(Some mumbling…)
Pretty soon the hippies of today, will be the squares of tomorrow
It was the echoing voices of the old ones
Through thick steeled forests and over scorched earth
Always just out of reach
A herder of crows judged my every footstep
My bones were frozen
Penniless and entirely out of breath
I washed my beautiful hands in the black market dog water trough
But through it all the real stick in my spokes
Was the torment of my dreams
I fought of sleep with both fists and sometimes fire
With no more then a blow gun I made from an exhausted pen
I shot the stars out of the sky
When each one fell sparkling to the ground
I made wishes that never came true
Apparitions of angels with angry eyes
Appeared at each new moon
My own ghost be gain whispering
Trees died if I tried to climb them
The decision was made for me
To begin interpreting real life just as I would nightmares
(More mumbling…)
Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65
Watching an already dead world vanish
We the banished and outlawed wander
Hither and yonder
Like dogs gone hungry
Funky and angry and sometimes ugly
Drums like drugs have turned us to scavengers
Pathfinders, addicts and mathematicians
Practicing is a black magic
We make music from used up junk and bad luck dreams
Liars and losers
Emus and aardvarks
Gypsies and pint thieves
Peddlers, Card Sharks
All of us fortune tellers home in the forest
Hard core, building a cardboard fortress
Fore ward fast and backwards blindfolded
Trying to find gold buried in flood planes
Covered in blood stains
Fly bites and egg yolk
Running away with one of my legs broke
Sometimes it’s lonesome
Traveling homeless
Not knowing where you’re going
Riding the railroads
Pickups and sailboats
Most of the loco-motives
Once we decide to see some of the country side
Working with circus
Performers and cut-throats
Discussions with perfectionists, perverts and poets
Haven’t you ever heard of the…
1200 hoboes?
We aren’t vampires dressed like rock stars
We build campfires and ride box-cars
Town to town, we just write songs
And plus we stay up like all night long
Cuz we aren’t vampires dressed like rock stars
We build campfires and ride box-cars
Town to town, we just write songs
And plus we stay up like all night long
20 some years is a long walk
Even if its night in a straight line
You see a lot of things in the distance
You know what they say about great minds
You and I think about the same things
Dream the same dreams
Play the same games
We started out in the same place
Believe it or not we got the same names
Everything happens for a good cause
Whether it be victory or loss
And the road may turn into a run way
But you’ll know what to do someday
Trust me I’ve seen it all before
I’ve climbed to the tops of the tallest trees
To get away from the deep water
To find the touch of the smallest breeze
You’ll find the girl with a low voice
Who holds the world in her bare hand
You’ll fall in love you’ll have no choice
Once you are given a fair chance
For the first time you will sleep well
Take a deep breath
See the sun shine
Hold on to her for dear life
And then watch the whole world unwind
Ask her to show you some magic
And I guarantee that she will say yes
Tell her you’ve seen forever and
You’ll be together not a day less
Just know until that time comes
And after you cross that first mile
That the hardest part is behind you
And all the pain will be worthwhile
(First storm clouds, Come angels, Let pain give you pleasure
From dirt roads, And flowers, Nothing can be better
First storm clouds, Come angels, Let pain give you pleasure
From dirt roads, And flowers, Nothing can be better)
I know a man who was born with his heart on the outside
Every mans worst fear he also had heavy hands
He couldn’t touch his lovers face
He couldn’t hold a baby
He would never desert them
But he was worried he would hurt them maybe
Mad at the world his face turned hot pink
The best he could do was just try to not think
But he was to bothered
So he would only try rarely
He read the last page of every book in the library
He lacked the charisma
Of a true revolutionary crime fighter
Would try to write but kept breaking his typewriter
He preaches man of best stole like a militant radical
Was diligent but his greatest mistakes were dramatical
If he only spent more time rehearsing and preparing
There wouldn’t have to be so much cursing and swearing
Eyes on fire
His volume was blistering
No one had taught him about the power of whispering
He is dynamite
Blows kisses
Eats dirt
His mouth of a volcano
He is a t-shirt
He stands on stilts
But doesn’t stand for funny stuff
Ask me
He just hasn’t been around the sun enough
He paints self-portraits
With a roller
Only eats corn
And then tries to sell his own soul
On a street corner
He always remembers everyone’s numbers
And sometimes cries into his own cumbersome hands
(Scratching... Mixes…)
Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind
And lord knows I try to close my eyes
But it happens so fast
I keep my eye on the ball
But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall
And like
Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind
And lord knows I try to close my eyes
But it happens so fast
I keep my eye on the ball
But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall
Red beginning to end and measured sideways
I’ve traveled the length of your desert highways
Been under your bed
And slept in ditches
I saw your scars
Was kept in stitches
To keep from crying
I’m trying not to pay attention
But as I may have mentioned
I’m being held hostage
I’m lost and exhausted
I want to go home now
But I’m to far gone
And I don’t even know how
The silent knight and tarnished armor
Charming and harmful
The charma chameleon
Might get violent
Dancing with shadows
And playing charades
It’s the miscible plan
Of the invisible man
And what’s it like
Living life
You may ask
Standing on the other side
A two way glass
Well it’s not what it’s cracked up to be
I’ll tell you that much
You can look
But you can’t touch
Like
Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind
And lord knows I try to close my eyes
But it happens so fast
I keep my eye on the ball
But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall
And like
Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind
And lord knows I try to close my eyes
But it happens so fast
I keep my eye on the ball
But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall
All I want to do
Is go fly a kite
Or take a hike
And try and keep myself
From taking a flying leap
There’s ringing in my ears
Especially at night
Collidescopic visions of a cocaine cat fight
People play parlor games
Behind closed doors
Secrets are sacred
When nobody knows yours
But somebody does
You forgot about the bottom feeders
The dirty rotten cheaters
And all of us stock breeders
Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind
And lord knows I try to close my eyes
But it happens so fast
I keep my eye on the ball
But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall
And like
Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind
And lord knows I try to close my eyes
But it happens so fast
I keep my eye on the ball
But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall
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