Archives for posts with tag: Voices Songs & Blues

Where the knickers go,
so goes the love,

so goes the love —
where the knickers go,

so goes the love
(so goes the love).

Where the whiskers plow
so goes the love,

follow the love
where the whiskers sow,

there goes the love —
the love —

follow the love, follow the love
where the whiskers go.

Where the knickers go,
so goes the love,
as above, so below,
so goes the love.

So goes the love,
as above, so below,
so goes the love,
where the knickers go;

so goes the love.

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I need you like I need water
I want you like I need air
where I go, wherever I wander
I pray I will find you there

take my want
my confused despair
take my corruption
help me climb these stairs

take my hand
I will never leave you
keep me forever
I will always need you

if you wonder
what land I led you to
look in my heart and know
a long time ago

I surrendered to you

you got me going with that thing you do
there ain’t nothing I wouldn’t do
you say I’ve been democratically selected
I tell you I don’t need Viagra to get elected

I’ll be your fence post when you need to fence
I’ll be your shotgun for self defence
I’ll put the sugar in your soda pop
Oh please baby don’t you ever stop

I need you like my car needs the road but
the cops would give me a ticket for overload
you got me going like a house on fire
you make me whole, I’m a real live wire

you got me tingling from my head to my toes
oh tell me Mama there’s more beneath those clothes

Your evil eye
is much more beautiful
than the other one.

Your evil eye
is much brighter
than that one.

Your evil eye
is much more Wicked
than this one.

What is True?
The face that turns from me,
the mouth that refuses my kiss,
the touch I am denied,

or your evil eye?

tell me momma where does my money go?
did you drop it at the corner,
did it burn a hole right through the floor?
Tell me where it’s going
before you walk out that door.

Where does my money go?
Where does my money go?
working 23 hours of 24
I always need to get more
Tell me where my money goes
before you walk out that door.

how am I going to make it at 95
2013 I’m barely alive
haven’t got much and when it’s gone
I’m telling you babe
you can’t get blood from a stone

Where does my money go?
Where does my money go?
flying out the door
burning holes through my floor
either I stop eating
or someone’s got to go
Tell me where it’s going
before you step out that door.

Everything requires thought, I do not think
someone says eyes forward, I don’t blink
launch my torpedoes, loose my dogs of war
never learn my lesson from what went on before
and as my navy sinks
my heart begins to sing:

ain’t got no bay-a-bay-a-baby,
ain’t got no girl …. (bum bum bum bum)
Ain’t got no lov-a-ov-Ay-ov-a-ying
in this big world ….

ain’t got no bay-ya-baya-baby,
she’s gone for good …. (bum bum bum bum)
no one to joke with
no one to make me feel good

<break>

wish she would come back to me
I won’t hold it against her
in her defence sir
it was me who was ag’inst her
I need her to come back soon
I need her like the sun needs the moon
If she can hear me and she asks why
just tell her I hate cryin’ — OH!
I think I’m dyin’ … I miss her so

ain’t got no bay-a-bay-a-baby,
ain’t got no girl …. (bum bum bum bum)
Ain’t got no lov-a-ov-Ay-ov-a-ying
in this big world ….

I need your lov-a-ov-Ayov-a-ying
I need you to be my jewel
I need you to lovlov-a-ov-Ayov-a-y me
I need renewal

Please bring me back Bayayaybee
been gone so long
please bring me back Bayayaybee
keep me safe from harm

I ain’t done no wrong Bayayaybee
none I can’t make right
come home to me Bayayaybee
I’ll love you day and night

gonna take my easy chair down by the river
stars wheel through the night
down by the water where stars multiply
rock me away from here in my easy chair
gonna rock my way through the night

‘cause the one I love is so close, but so far
the river is cold and deep and wide
and the one I love — she’s on the other side
so I’ll be here, near her all night long
rockin’ away my cares, sittin’ in my easy chair

My lawyer’s suing me
my banker wants back his loan
they took my car away from me
and I can’t afford my home
but what can you do? Youse
got the Toronto Blues

People drive by me
cover me with mud
the way they look at me
might as well be blood
when you got nowhere to go
you got the Blues in Toronto

The Mayor says
A man with no Ride
got no Pride, he ain’t
part of the parade
and friendly streets
are just a charade

you get pushed down South
you’re in the drink
run over by the Porter link

push out East
you’re on the Beach
sounds good until you want
out of the East

pushed out West
you’re in Mimico
don’t ask, you don’t wanna know

get pushed up North
how far do you want to go?
there’s lots of choice
or move to Etobicoke

and in the midst of the power
there’s a pinprick tower
to remind you it’s as minimal
as it all seems to be

cause when
the bills come due
and you’re nothing
but in the blue
you oughta know—
there’s no blues
more on the go
than the blues you get
livin’ in Toronto

Ladies and Gentlemen,
allow me to introduce something
many might consider revolutionary,
psychosomatic, pathological,
paranoiac, or—plain old scary.

BUT NOT ME…
I know a good thing when I see one,
and I knew it when I smelt
MORTE D’ARTHUR.

A fragrance so royal,
so mighty,
it had to be named after a mythic King.
So new, it’s about time.
So fantastic, it’s more than magic—
it kills you.

Wear it and your time is up.
48 hours, 48 years,
how long? — no one knows
but as sure as cancer,
MORTE D’ARTHUR
kills you.

Think of the fashion statement—
when people smell you—they know—
you’ve made a commitment,
you’re different, someone
extraordinary, someone
ahead of the pack.

MORTE D’ARTHUR
I’m wearing it now …
my mind’s made up,
from now on, for me
it’s my way.

Tell your friends,
let your family know,
brag to your neighbours,
everyone will notice
it’s a brand new you —
share your timeline with us online.

What are you waiting for?
More of this
boring pedestrian reality?
You can continue to wade through
a sea of shit
if that is what you want
lonely, unnoticed, unhappy
unloved
but not me —
now,
I’m the guy in control.

MORTE D’ARTHUR

Take the plunge
into an unimaginable future
a timeless Avalon.
the fabulous
the unforgettable
that belongs to those who
seize their fate.

Embrace the scent of destiny,
the scent of the event
that will define everything about you
your end, your curtain call,
your relentless rejoinder
“you can’t ignore me”

MORTE D’ARTHUR
because the end is very mysterious,
and so very, very now.

A — if everything I write comes true, how come God never answers my letters?

K — Which letters?

A — Here (throws him a stack of envelopes tied together with string — each one stamped “Undeliverable”)

K — (unties and sorts through the stack), hmmm, “ God/ Eternity/ Postal code unknown,” “Jahweh/ any burning bush will do,” “God/ if you’re Buddha, please reincarnate in time to receive this letter/ Nirvana,” — very inventive, nice touch including the return address (rips open an envelope) “Dear God, If you’re reading over my shoulder right now, you’re not breathing hard enough.” (crumples it up and tosses it, opens another) “When you look over my shoulder like that I want you to know that suffering up close and personal and not from the perspective of omniscience and eternity is no fucking good. I don’t like suffering and I don’t need it. And while I’m on that point — I don’t think we need cruelty to delineate beauty, love can exist without hate, and landlords suck.” (crumples it up and throws it away) — you were on a roll until that last part, kind of a letter to Santa, wouldn’t you say? “God, when I watch myself writing, looking in a mirror, I wonder is that what you see, reading over my shoulder?” (pauses, sets letter aside) that one is good, closer to the truth than you realize.
Would you like to know something? When you write stuff, any kind of stuff, if you write about something before it happens and then it happens — well, then, of course it came true.
And of course, if you write it after it happened — well, that has to be true.
But other times, what you write, maybe it is still waiting to happen, and so it’s not true.
Reason is kind of pitiful don’t you think?
Did you ever consider: What you wrote wasn’t true enough? Perhaps, if you had written accurately, with greater feeling and greater conviction, God would have got your letter, and He might have been moved to reply — in which circumstance, it would be to late to caution you — be careful what you wish for.
However, for that to occur, I doubt pen and paper would suffice.
Other than that, there is no difference between you and me — we both create/ destroy — I operate on a more mundane plane — and my messes are easier to clean up.

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