Raygun Suitcase (1995)Folly Of Youth.I want to be your suitcase. I want to be your... suitcase. I want to hang around inside your Greyhound terminal. I want to hang around inside your Greyhound terminal. I want to hang around inside your Greyhound terminal. I want to hang around inside your Greyhound terminal. I want to be your ray gun. I want to be your... ray gun. I aim to be your ray pistol. I aim to be... your ray pistol. I want to light the way across your starless lonely nights. I want to light the way across your starless lonely nights. I want to light the way across your starless lonely nights. I want to light the way across your starless lonely nights. I aim to be the suitcase. I aim to be... a suitcase. I want to hang around inside your Greyhound terminal. I want to hang around inside your Greyhound terminal. I want to ride the baggage car of your ole mystery train. I want to ride the baggage car of your ole mystery train. I want to ride the baggage car of your ole mystery train. I want to ride the baggage car of your ole mystery train. Writers: Thomas - Jones - Temple - Wheeler. ©1995 Ubu Projex, administered by Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Electricity. A city is the stones, not the people. Why should it be? People breed and die. They come, and they go. Faithless. The stones speak. A language of hopes and fears that nobody understands. Like poetry. Can a city die? Probably not. But like the insane do in their awful solitude it speaks only to itself. Nobody understands. Nobody understands. All the words that we've cherished for so long fall on deaf ears. Children, hear our hopes and fears. Hope and fear. And maybe after years the city does go mad too. Whispering in the dark. Strange talk. Nobody understands. Nobody understands. All the words that we've cherished for so long fall on deaf ears. Children, hear our hopes and fears. Hope and fear. The sun sets and people flee. In the surrounding hills they huddle against the empty darkness round their suburban campfires. Above in the sky the stars come undone. Below in the city there's nothing but strange talk. It feels like all the faded hopes that never were. Writers: Thomas - Jones - Temple - Wheeler. ©1995 Ubu Projex, administered by Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Beach Boys. Somehow I must love the pain. The hollow earth. On it the sound of rain. Burn my home. Burn my shoes. Burn down the glorified Home of the Blues. Wake up then. Don't be slow. Drunken sailors are blockin up the main road. They're up in arms. They're reelin' on their feet. Or millin' round. They're marchin on the Home of the Blues. Marchin' on the Home of the Blues. Marchin' on the Home of the Blues. Marchin' on the Home of the Blues. Marchin' on the Home of the Blues. Say my name low and sweet. Then you'll go away. We'll never meet. In awhile I'll be there too. In the rain. Marchin' on the home of the blues. Marchin' on the Home of the Blues. Marchin' on the Home of the Blues. Marchin' on the Home of the Blues. Marchin on the Home of the... Nobody can feel all the things that we feel. And nobody knows how it is always leavin' and never to go. Marchin' on the Home of the Blues. Marchin' on the Home of the Blues. Marchin' on the Home of the Blues. Marchin' on the Home of the Blues. Marchin' on the Home of the Blues. Marchin' on the Home of the Blues. Marchin' on the Home of the Blues. Marchin' on the Home of the... Writers: Thomas - Jones - Temple - Krauss - Yellin. ©1995 Ubu Projex, administered by Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Turquoise Fins. Can't we stop along the way? We just passed by a place called Elvis Is Alive. Museum and a shop. Where we can get souvenirs and a postcard or two. Jack says, Man it's awful hard to be the one that everyone was waiting for. It's lonely in the dark. When media priests of the Big Lie own all of the words. Did you ever wonder why your Elvis fans were so much nicer people than the people who laugh at them? Turquoise fins in Pomona. Turquoise fins in Winona. Turquoise fins in Corona. Turquoise fins in Oceana. Turquoise fins in Alcona. Turquoise fins in Alatoona. Turquoise fins in West Molina. Turquoise fins. Altadena. Turquoise fins. Downtown Medina. Turquoise fins. Issaquanah. Turquoise fins. West Issaquanah. Albany. Writers: Thomas - Jones - Temple - Wheeler. ©1995 Ubu Projex, administered by Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Vacuum In My Head. I've got a vacuum cleaner in my head. It sucks up everything I know. I've got a vacuum cleaner in my head. It sucks up everything I know. Darlin'. I'm not tongue-tied. Darlin'. I'm not tongue-tied. Darlin'. But I've got a vacuum cleaner in my head. It sucks up everything I know. But I've got a vacuum cleaner in my head. It sucks up everything I know. Darlin'. I'm not tongue-tied. Writers: Thomas - Jones - Temple - Wheeler. ©1995 Ubu Projex, administered by Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Memphis. In the ghost town inside of my heart all the downtown is parking lots. At the drug store at 9th & Payne they stock the Bitter Pill. They say, Will we see you again next Tuesday? What more can we do for you, Mr Johnson, sir? Pass the word around them Golden Pools. I've been elected King of the Fools. At the barber shop. They never close. They'll cut your hair. They'll shine your suit. Ya look fine, mistah. You look sharp. We can tell how well you play the part. Pass the word around them Golden Pools. I've been elected King of the Fools. In the ghost town inside of my heart all the downtown is parking lots. In the ghost town inside of my heart all the downtown is parking lots. And in the rain the streets are on fire. At the city hall the mayor gives away the key. He says, Look around. Make yourself at home. Everything we do for you is our pleasure! Pass the word around them Golden Pools. I've been elected King of the Fools. In the ghost town inside of my heart all the downtown is parking lots. Writers: Thomas - Jones - Temple - Krauss - Yellin. ©1995 Ubu Projex, administered by Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Three Things. I've checked in and now I can't check out. It seems. I guess my life is in transition. From one kind of a life to another. From what kind of a life to another? I find myself living in Heartbreak Efficiencies at the corner of Governor & West 114th St. Six units and no doorbells. But what do I need a doorbell for anyway? All of the men and their women in the neighborhood choose to shout at each other in the streets. Every Saturday, Saturday, Saturday. Early Sunday, Sunday, Sunday, Sunday. I tuned in. They won't tune out. I checked in and now I... The man in Number 2 hanged himself last month. I think I know why he chose the laundry room. But I wonder what became of his two little girls and who it was that came to take them away. I checked in and now I... I checked in and now I can't check out. It seems. I guess my life is in transition. From what one of a life to another? But what kind of a life to another? Writers: Thomas - Jones - Temple - Wheeler. ©1995 Ubu Projex, administered by Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Don't Worry. Here she comes. Like the rain. Like the wind. Like the wild wild wind. Tearing the roof off somebody's heart. In a way I hoped that we might continue as friends somewhow. Here she comes. Like the rain. Like the wind. Like the wild wild wind. Tearing the roof off somebody's heart. Tearing the roof off of somebody's heart. In a way I hope that we might continue somehow as friends. Tearing the roof off of somebody's heart. In a way I hope that we might continue somehow as friends. In a way I hope that we might continue somehow as friends. Tearing the roof off of somebody's heart. In a way I hope that we might continue somehow as friends. Tearing the roof off of somebody's heart. Writers: Thomas - Jones - Temple - Wheeler. ©1995 Ubu Projex, administered by Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Ray Gun Suitcase. I want to be a suitcase. I want to hang around in your Greyhound terminal. I want to ride in your baggage car. I want to be a ray gun. Shrinkwrapped from a ray gun factory. I want to be the torch for your starless night. Writers: Thomas - Jones - Temple - Wheeler. ©1995 Ubu Projex, administered by Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Red Sky. In Texas there is a bayou. Cross that bayou there is a highway. Down the highway there is a town called Houston. On Mars there is a red sky and beneath it there are no blue eyes. Below me there is a table. And the table is cold as ice. (My elbows on the table are as cold as ice.) Through the screen door there is a bug light. (I see a bug light.) On the wireless there is a ballgame. (On the wireless...) While on Mars there are no women. And as well there are no gray skies. On Mars there are no women. And as well there are no gray skies. At NASA they build the rockets and they need a place to go. (They need a new place.) While I know that someone once lived here. (And I know someone like you once lived here.) Now I cannot recall who. (Who?) On Mars there is a red sky and beneath it there are no blue eyes. In Texas there is a bayou. Cross the bayou there is a highway. Down the highway there is a town called Houston. On Mars there are no women and as well there are no gray skies. Ever. Mars has no women. Mars has no women. Mars has no women. Ever. Writers: Thomas - Jones - Temple - Wheeler. ©1995 Ubu Projex, administered by Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Montana. In the state of Montana in the Year of the Ford Nineteen Hundred and Fifty-Four. People are leaving. They're driving all night. Women are cryin'. They're frozen in light. And we roll on the river. Roll on the river. Roll on the river. Roll on the river. Our river is black. Our river is deep. Headlights and moonlight. A space full of grief. Secrets and heartaches must carry the load. The heart of the thing is the thing we don't know. And we roll out the barrels. Roll out the barrel. Roll out the barrel. Roll out the barrel. Lo and behold. The night is too long. Anchored in heartache. Afraid of the dawn Nobody changes. The truth is all gone. Bosses say everybody must go. And we roll on the ribbons. Of our dreams. Of our dreams. Of our dreams. The ribbons of our dreams. Writers: Thomas - Jones - Temple - Krauss - Yellin. ©1995 Ubu Projex, administered by Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. My Friend Is A Stooge For The Media Priests. My friend's a stooge for the media priests. He does the weather map for Channel 3. He smiles alot when I take him home. Stares at the rug if I leave him alone. Lays around the house in misery. He toes the line for the company. He's livin' life like a Hollow Man. Hidin' out in a Hollow Land. My Friend Is A Stooge For The Media Priests. My Friend Is A Stooge For The Media Priests. My Friend Is A Stooge For The Media Priests. In the morning with his hand on his heart to keep the world safe from falling apart he pledges allegiance to the Land of Thrills. No one there's born to pay their bills. He's livin life like a Hollow Man. Hidin' out in a Hollow Land. My Friend Is A Stooge For The Media Priests. My Friend Is A Stooge For The Media Priests. My Friend Is A Stooge For The Media Priests. My friend's a stooge for the media priests. He does the weather map for Channel 3. Writers: Thomas - Jones - Temple - Hamann. ©1995 Ubu Projex, administered by Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Down By The River II. Down by the river the corn is creepin'. Cry for my lover. Lover's sleepin'. Bad as it gets it's gottin' worse. I wanna run. Had to learn to crawl. The house on fire. The treaty's broken. I call for the law. The law's a token. As bad as it gets it's gotten worse. I wanna run. I had to learn to crawl. This trip is the worst. I don't mean maybe. I call for the captain. She cries like a baby. As bad as it gets it's gottin' worse. I wanna run. I had to learn to crawl first. Bye-bye. Bye-bye, baby, my friend. Bye-bye. Bye-bye, baby, my friend. And she cries. And she cries. And she cries. And she... And then she... I mighta not known. I mighta not guessed. I mighta been fine if she had never confessed. As bad as it gets it's gottin' worse. I wanna run. I had to learn to crawl though. Bye-bye. Bye-bye, baby, my friend. Bye-bye. Bye-bye, baby, my friend. It's time to leave and I don't know when. Writers: Thomas - Jones - Temple - Krauss - Yellin. ©1995 Ubu Projex, administered by Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. |
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