The Black Maria
With a diamond for your eye
You surely have second sight
And Seconds surely have
Precedence before all Firsts
Inasmuch as now
The First are gone
Rotten gone
Blonds gone
Smiling
Dawns gone
All glistening, crystalline
Bombshell song
No room for a sour note
Or a sour smile
No! No room for honesty or truth or just plain civility
A sour smile devours here
A sour smile scorns
Fakes
Let me tell you
The fakes get the most done
but
Let not the bastards drag you down, it’s said
Illegitimi non carborundum est
And I say:
The bastards are a test!
The bastards are a test!
Why are they all so rich?
Oh! And the rest of us
a poor dumb bitch
asleep
dreaming
“game”
hungry pedants
answering questions
but meaning nothing
All I want is FAME!
All we want is FAME!
Yes. Yes.
We all want the same.
Mine I will attain
With a knife
To the jugular
Of a name
And a bullet
To the apple
of a memory
that’s my bane
Clout, that’s it! Base the cravings
Of hunger here
Salami meat
And the slowburn
Dawn a-rising
Yawn
“I am the Black Maria.
I am the Black Maria come.”
There, sleeping next to me
Remember, folks,
This bus ride will never end
A girl
A woman
Drawn up against the pane
A little drool slipping, wan
Yet she speaks!
How she speaks! A voice russet
Her voice
All
Falling leaves
Beams dropping on red Russia
Forget-me-not Revolutions
In her words and tones
And Africa
Demanding
Westward medicines
Oh fuck we are all to blame
You must understand
She speaks in her sleep
And I hear her
As she speaks:
“I am the Black Maria
Come to take your day.”
Lo’, yeah. The sun is rising.
“…”
Silence.
I open with a joke:
How do you know the floor of your band's rehearsal room is flat?
“…”
Because the drummers are drooling out of both sides of their mouths.
Zing.
“…”
Don’t you get it?
“I am the Black Maria
Born of the summer dawn and”
You don’t get it.
“sewn, revenant I am
And so more than a memory.
Reach out and touch me
and your fingers vanish into the mist
my finery
garbs just scraps
and shadows
I am an untouchable
And not allowed me even lust
I am not a memory of your daughter
I am more
But just as much
Yes I am the Black Maria
Snowbound sorceress
Asleep in the summer heat
Asleep in the summer heat”
Soon we will be in Albany.
Soon we will be there.
Oh there she goes.
A quick stop and
gone.
And north of there a lake
And west of there a cabin
And west further
The corpse of a
Dead dead buffalo
You know
Tell me you don’t know.
“I know not.
I do not know.”
What good then are you?
“Oh right good am I
And well even
I am.
I know the place
Where lived the Rebel Bone
Locked horns he with the Sorceror.
Leapt they
into the gloam.
Yes, right good I am.
For I am almost home.”
Take me there then.
Once woken.
I’ll shake you. Here.
We’ve passed Albany.
“It’s westward we will go.”
The wheels turn
Pitiful
Rubber on the road
Chemicals
And stone
The wheels turn
While the Black Maria sleeps
and I drift, anchorless
to dream of
finding
to dream of
killing
that enemy our Rebel Bone
The United Hates of America
Temples gut me with villainy
This bus ride will never end
Heard a man got his head cut off
Heard a guy started eating him
This is real
This is America
er This is Canadian
but they’re American’s too
Ain’t they
Ain’t Brazilians
South Americans?
Say: Ciao
Benne
¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ GOLLLLLLLLLLL ! ! ! ! ! !
There’s a guy been back there in the toilet
for what seems like an hour
This bus is a boat
Screaming across the bottled sky
A Horus Eye, Anubis
on wry
I am aching just to go west
Just to westward die
The story is this:
This is the plain and simple:
I am a simple man, listen!
I like to shoot
Guns
It’s true
And I accidentally
Shot
Someone
It’s true
Right between the eyes
Eye am no William Tell
I ate the apple instead
And instead I went to hell
So here’s my Overture
Bang:
The United Hates of America
Bang:
The idiots have taken over
The asylum
And an idiot is far worse
Than an inmate
For an inmate
May well be sane
And the keepers mad
Bang
But an idiot
Is an idiot
Once more:
An idiot is far worse than an inmate, for an inmate may well be sane… and the keepers mad.
I will never be
A “business man”
Yes the jig is up
Viet-Bang
But the band is still playing
The “drug wars”
The “war on drugs”
Bang bang bang
Yes the dream is over
Iraqabangbang
But the illusion
Crustacean
Won’t die
The vote
Bubangbang
Yes the jig is up
But the band’s still playing
An illusion
A sign
A one a two and
The wheels on the bus go
Round and round
An illusion
A sign
A one a two and
The wheels on the bus
are tumbling down
An illusion
A crime
A one a two and
bang
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