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This is a collection of lyrics from the albums Home, Locust Grove and Swampland Flowers. All lyrics were written by Chris Monti except where noted. Enjoy!
Songs from the album Home: Home | Going Swimming | The Eleven | Darlene | Independence Day | Chicken Shack | Honey Bee | Violence | My old Man | Oh My Love Songs from the album Locust Grove: Long in the Tooth | Annalee | Top of the Hill | King Solomon and Zen Master Nam Cheon | Chris and Adam’s Song | Country Boy in the City | Julie Song No. I | Even When You’re Not Here | The Man Who Lost His Fear of God | Leaving in the Morning | Lowland | Caroline and Matt’s Wedding Song | Me and Curby Songs from the album Swampland Flowers: Julie Song No. II | Leaving This City | The JCBFI Blues | The Bee Song | Cats | The Local Expatriate | Rat-Bat Astard | Take Your Rest | Thorn in Your Side Home
words and music © 2011 Chris Monti If I had a dollar for every time I've been Down to the ocean for to take a swim If I had a dime for every time I've gone I'd spend it all to get back home If I had a ride for every ride I've caught If I caught sight of everything I've sought If I could feel you from across the room I'd sweep you up with that old dust broom We would dance across that warped wooden floor Upon the dust of memories alights a little more If I had a chance for every coin I've tossed If I had a win for every time I've lost Would you still love me the way you do If I wasn't coatless and without shoes? If I had a lover for every one I've loved If I had a raindrop from every cloud above If I had a good time for every cup I've drained There wouldn't be time enough for all the pain If I did it all and then did it all again And after every ending the beginning came and went There's nothing I could change, even if I tried Despite all the tears my poor mother cries If I had a dog, I would walk around I'd let him walk me all over the town If I had a house cat living in my home I'd let him teach me how to live all alone If the sun did shine on every sunny day And if I let you in after I'd turned you away I'd still be here all by myself Unread notebooks collecting memories upon the shelf But a book is kindling if that's all you've got And a body needs fire to get good and hot I'm cold as ice, I'm cold as stone What I'm trying to say is, “Please come home” Going Swimming words and music © 2011 Chris Monti If I could I surely would Make all that I feel understood So I’ll ask you straight and I’ll ask you plain Won’t you come swimming with me? (chorus) Going swimming you and me Going swimming for the world to see Test the water, it sure looks good Won’t you come swimming with me? Well I don’t know but I’ve heard told That you’re bound to lose what you try to hold On the other hand I’ve heard it spoken That an empty heart is a heart that’s broken (chorus) I’ve got no towel, got no bathing suit I’ve got a ragged voice, I play a broken lute Nothing on my plate, nothing in my pan But I’ll treat you just as well as I can (chorus) If I could I surely would Try to be about twice as good But what you see is what I’ve got Wont you come swimming with me? (chorus) The Eleven words and music © 2011 Chris Monti Old-time music in Richmond, VA Mrs. Phyllis Ladd Blackwell, she don't play But she sits right up close to her daughter and her man To get the feel of the pickin of that old-timey band It takes a worried man to sing a worried song I’m worried now but not for long A little fiddle music tends to brings me ease Is that the sound of a banjo in the whisper of the trees? New Orleans, playing with a Dixieland band | Playing in the corner, ain’t no bandstand, grandstand “We don’t do ‘St Louis Blues’ in D! We’ll do ‘Saints’ in F, watch the B flat minor,” said the tenor banjo playing Louisiana old timer There’s a Jesuit priest down on Bourbon Street Who learned clarinet at Peterson’s feet He said, “The best ministry the people to bring Is to move their bodies with that Nawlins Swing” I heard my dad play once when I was four The only time Bill Halley came a-knockin at our door My old Dad put his guitar away In the closet ten years ‘till I was ready to play I learned from Jon Hathaway in his cramped little room The man could play the guitar like he was sweeping a broom The best thing to me that he ever did say is, “You can play anything that you want to play” The earth of music is wide, its water deep It has no secrets that it wants to keep So sing it out, play it loud Part the foggy, noxious cloud Of doubt and despair, clear the air Feel the wind on your face, feel the breeze in your hair In the rat-a-tat-tat of the marching band Hear the cosmic call to reach out your hand Darlene words and music © 2011 Chris Monti I wake up in the morning in my cabin in the fog I've got a pain in my head like my head against a log I smell coffee brewing but I live alone I reach under my pillow but my gun is gone I am stripped down naked so I pull my pants on Peek around the corner and take a look around I spy a long-haired woman, her ear to my phone Feet on the table like she was right at home (chorus) Darlene, Darlene Won't you leave me alone I don't have the time to let you run me down She looks up and sees me, puts my phone down and smiles Says, “I let myself in through the back window with a brick Cleaned out the fridge, made us some coffee and eggs Went poking around for the checkbook...” Darlene dresses sharp in a working-woman's-day-suit Behind her child's-big-eyes her mind is astute I can't say for sure that she means to do me harm But I've got the feeling she wants to get those big strong hands on my farm (chorus) I live alone I say and I push her away Throw the eggs in the trash and the coffee down the drain I open the door on the world of morning light I say, “Darlene, get out of my sight” (chorus) I can fix myself breakfast, I need my day to my own And in the evening I don't mind sleeping alone You are a beautiful girl, but a woman on the make And the little I have left of self-respect and time... there's nothing that I'll let you take (chorus) Darlene you're a fox, I'll give you that But I fear for my hens like a mouse fears a cat Come around again with your eye on my crops Like a .22, tin-can, fence-post I'll drop (chorus) Independence Day words and music © 2011 Chris Monti This is my own Independence Day This is my own Independence Day I can't find a better way I can't find a better way to celebrate Than to be here alone The indifferent maw of death took my new wife Interrupting our plans for a happy life Interrupting all our argument and strife Cutting our ties with a merciless knife One last shrill note from the fife, and then the rustle of leaves Mother's gone I can't do it alone If I do nothing they'll never be born Missing life by a few lazy days Better off, let me count the ways Never enter this maze, never feel so alone I abandon my charges and I take to the wing No more life this world to bring | No more searching, no more song to sing Everything goes cold This is my own Independence Day This is my own Independence Day I can't find a better way I can't find a better way to celebrate Than to be here alone Chicken Shack words and music © 2011 Chris Monti Dressed in black by the chicken shack You stole my chickens now I’m taking them back I wake up in jail surly and hung over Not dreaming of grouse or geese or plover But of you you you, you filthy little thief | And of the theft of my chickens that’s brought me so much grief I approach you like a man and ask for what’s owed But all you do is jeer and goad I take a swing and miss and meet with you fist And that’s the last thing I remember… Then I awake in a cell, bloody face and hands tender My minds gone from black to blue to red How I’ll get you back, the only thought in my head I duck the pillory, now I’m on the loose I dodge the hangman, slip the noose Knock down the guard with my fist where he stood post as a sentry and make and exit of the entrance of that old penitentiary I jack the bondsman who’s post bail, sweep my tracks and leave no trail With the bondsman’s purse I buy a coat and a gun And I go the bar to drink down the sun When the day draws down I make for the woods Through the fields, to the farmhouse, to my stolen goods Downwind of the dogs, I inspire no bark And then the clouds break and the light cuts the dark In the glow of the moon’s pale blue light I am revealed to be as I am tonight Dressed in black by the chicken shack You stole my chickens, now I’m taking them back I slip into the coop as quiet as a fox And realize I have neither sack nor box How many chickens can I hold against my breast? I fit eight in my coat and set free the rest Like a mad fat man I make for the road A trail of feathers giving away my load The highway made I slow to a walk And quiet my scared chickens with soft soothing talk But then a shift in the air, something’s not right My chickens and I are not alone on the highway tonight Jumped by bad actors at the edge of town Gun butt to head and I go down They open my coat and there to be found Eight sleeping chickens making not a sound Till the light of the moon hits the black of their eyes They startle our assailants with their angry chicken cries The scared men swing till all the chickens are dead While I can do nothing but bleed from the head The chickens dispatched they go for my gold which till this morning the bondsman did hold Of boots coat and gun I am also relieved Then left with my chickens to shiver and grieve My brood in my arms I’ll bleed till I die With the last of my breath this thought I confide: There is no chicken that a man did own That the grim chicken reaper didn’t bring back home Honey Bee words and music © 2011 Chris Monti Honey bees in the air in the early morning light About their honey bee business, buzz around in flight Honey bee, oh honey bee I hear the rush of the city, the traffic going past This ain’t my first morning but it might be my last So I set right down with my guitar on my knee And write a little ode to the honey bee Cabbage and grapes and beans and corn | They’re all wet with dew in the early morn’ The doc is in the field and the potter’s in the barn Storyteller’s in the backyard workin on a yarn Honey bee, honey bee, honey bee three Laying so still on the stoop with me Two of them drained of life from the cold The other too soon for his fate to be told I lay him in the leaves in the warmth of the sun He might see another morning ‘fore his race is run Honey bee, good luck to you honey bee Mandy comes out for a cup of tea And I tell her the tale of the honey bee Each in our own way, honey bee We’re praying for you I let him sit for a while for to give him some time Finger pickin the guitar and scribblin lines Then I get right down on my hands and my knees And I check on my friend below the dogwood tree And lo and behold, there ain’t no honey bee Honey bee lives through the cold in the night To fly around once again in the morning light Honey bee, how I love you honey bee Honey bees in the air in the early morning light About their honey bee business, buzz around in flight Honey bee, oh honey bee Violence words and music © 2011 Chris Monti People sit in broken rooms Wondering where to go People shuffle towards the door Wondering why it is so People wander City Hall Minds wallowing in despair Dragging hands over peeled walls Eyes fixed in a crazy stare Families on the open road Faces pressed to the glass Pull the plug, turn the crank I’ve saved up some money for gas People driving in their cars Not going anywhere Wheels rolling dirty tar The wind is in my hair With the might and right of Providence We’ll clean our house of decadence We’ll tax it out, we’ll raise the rents We’ll arm the men who watch the fence What we see is violence Under the guise of self defense Name and subjugate the dissidents While the righteous swell to corpulence My Old Man words and music © 2011 Chris Monti My old man keeps fit and trim Pays good care to the shape he's in My old man keeps fit and trim, hey now Me, sometimes I let myself go I loose track of the morning for the love of the show Me, sometimes I let myself go Hey now I could learn a thing or two from my old man I could learn a thing or two from my old man Hey now My old man he's a model of dedication A good family man as he travels the nation Keeps his mind on his work and his wife and kids Keeps and eye on the future when he makes his bids I've got a good woman for the first time ever And though my work's got me on the road to wherever I plan to be as good as my old man I've learned a thing or two from my old man I've learned a thing or two from my old man Hey now Now this ain't to say my old man's a saint His momma says he is but I say that he ain't This ain't to say my old man's a saint, oh no But any troubles between him and me, we try to lay them out in the air to see Air them in the open breeze Me and my old man Me and my old man Hey now My old man raised me to understand That I should use my skills to help my fellow man Well I've grown up to be a picker and singer Not an academic or some big-time shit-slinger I'm not always sure that I can understand How I'm doing any good with a guitar in hand But at least I'm not a banker or a politician Making jokes is all well and good But a man's still got to do what he knows he should I'm a writer and a singer and I take my work most seriously I made a promise to my old man's old man When they laid him in the ground I touched his hand I made a promise to my old man's old man I said, “Grandpa I promise to do right by you I'll do all the things a good man should do But I'll do them in the way I know to be true to who I am” Like my old man and his old man Like my old man and his old man Hey now Oh My Love words and music © 2011 Chris Monti Oh my love, I'm going to miss you when I'm gone Oh my love, I'm going to miss you when I'm gone I'll miss your shy smile and the weight of you in my arms I laid down last night but I could not get to sleep I laid down last night but I could not get to sleep I gave you what I had but I guess I didn't give it to keep I'm like a man out walking in a cold and blowing rain I'm like a man out walking in a cold and blowing rain No shelter for my body, no solace for my brain The sun may shine on us again someday The sun may shine on us again someday But by the look of the skies it won't be today Long In the Tooth words and music © 2011 Chris Monti Springtime open window Same old foul-mouthed pop song And the cawing of crow come to pick our bones And in the back-yard That old broken-toothed graveyard It rolls and moans It’s a good reminder of where we’re going And in the smooth, polished marble of some long-dead’s headstone You might catch a glimpse of the state you’re in What kind of shape are you in? Young man I know Young man I know I should let him go You getting long in the tooth boy! When you gonna know enough to let it go? Annalee words and music © 2011 Chris Monti Annalee, when I love you early in the night I wake up in the wee, wee hours, my heart in such a fright Oh Annalee, How could you treat me so bad? The first time I kiss you every day my heart swells like a balloon You bless my evening home like a rising, waxing moon Annalee, Maybe you ain’t so bad I wake up in the morning to find you packed and gone Leaving me with nothing unless I can find a song Oh Annalee, You treat me so bad I tell you Annalee, don’t want to see you any more Put a cap on this relationship, I’m gonna close the door But Annalee, You such a fine lookin gal The way that you love me, man it gets me high All the troubles in my life you somehow simplify Oh Annalee, maybe you’re not so bad There’s news of flood and famine and war The suffering of mankind But a little taste of Annalee and me I feel fine Oh Annalee, How could you be so good? Annalee, Annalee, I think you’re clouding my mind But you’ve got me in such a spot I’ll drink you up till I go blind Oh Annalee, one of these days Top of the Hill words and music © 2011 Chris Monti There was an old man, name of Bill He lived on top of the top of the hill Spent all day by the window sill Said, “I’m old as hell but I’m living still Spent all day watching kids at play Said, “Them days to me is far away Days of runnin and fightin Ridin around on them little red bicycles ‘Else getting pulled around on them little red wagons One day old Bill had a little sit-down with himself He went over the facts I’ve got arthritic hands and a bent-over back And I’m workin on a stroke or a heart attack I fart up a storm but shittin’s a dream I’ve got a shriveled old prick and a weak urine stream So this old man, name of Bill Who lived on top of the top of the hill Said you know I ain’t got much more to live You know I ain't got much more life to live He went down to the basement, took him a day Pushed a bunch of old shit out of the way Found that old toboggan, brought it up and outside And said… “I’m gonna go for a ride” That sled looked fine at the top of the hill As the sun was comin up behind old Bill He put his sore ass on then old wooden planks And to his god he offered one final thanks That sled moved along on that slick morning grass Trees and shrubberies flying past Blue jays squawking and making way For a guy on his sled on his very last day It’s too gory to tell how this story did end For he failed to turn when he hit the bend He didn’t zig or zag, he only went straight And with that decision, he sealed his fate As the sun was coming up over head Of all the children lying in the bed That old man he rolled over dead King Solomon and Zen Master Nam Cheon words and music © 2011 Chris Monti King Solomon holds a baby in his arms Two women claim to be mother Because he is so wise, its up to him to decide To give it to one or the other Oh King Solomon! What will you do? Oh King Solomon! What will you do? Picking up the baby he draws forth his sword Prepared to cut it in two "One half a baby" He says to each lady "Will be given to you" One woman laughs, spite on her tongue The other has tears in her eyes Wise Solomon puts down his sword Says, "The mother is she who now cries The mother is she who now cries" The monks of the east and the western halls Are fighting over a cat Zen Master Nam Cheon steps on the scene says, "Is this where your true self is at?" Then picking up the cat, he draws forth his sword, prepared to cut it in two If you were there, one of the monks Tell me, what would you do? Chris and Adam’s Song words and music © 2011 Chris Monti Momma and papa livin up on the hill Momma and papa livin up on the hill They ain’t makin much noise but that baby that’s a-comin sure will Papa’s out workin, workin tile and slate Papa’s out workin, workin tile and slate Mamma’s makin sure then babies get fed all across that Green Mountain State We got a blue starry sky and a waning moon coming up We got a blue starry sky and a waning moon coming up Papa grab a bottle for to fill my cup We got some good tobacco and a brand new corn-cob pipe We got some good tobacco and a brand new corn-cob pipe Momma’s inside sleepin and the boys are tellin stories by firelight I might live in the city but I ain’t no city man I might live in the city but I ain’t no city man I’m gonna pack up my things and get out of the city as fast as I can Country Boy in the City (17 years old) words and music © 2011 Chris Monti This town was founded on secret sad thoughts and stolen drugs I find old aged both fascinating and disintegrating And then there is beauty But I digress… Time is not so much spread out before me as it seems to be arranged in little boxed in which I wait claustrophobically until time’s up! And I climb into the next box Rigorously going from field to field Absent of passion, principles, love Sadness graying the faces of virgins aching The innocence of childhood is not genuine It shines forth from their faces littered with soup and cigarette butts Mud on the first day, and in truth how could they not know? So send me away to anyone, anywhere And threaten me my darling, we’re at a loss With a scissors or something else sharp if you still adore me It is a human universe and I can show you teeth you’ve never dreamed But all you ever do is go back to ancestral comforts Baffling combustion everywhere and hardly any arc of love Only heartily materialistic fears So how can we begin again? Know that perfection does not exist in isolation In fact, it does not exist at all And what just poked you in the eye was your own umbrella So get up, get out of bed Because there might just be a few little songs to be sung before the decimation of the race Julie Song No. I: Three Birds words by Julie Restivo and Chris Monti words and music © 2005 Chris Monti Three birds sound like scissors Split me like a piece of paper Open eyes to open skies… Three birds low like lizards Fan me as I rub my eyes Back belongs on a rock with sand and shining sun Even When You're Not Here words and music © 2005 Chris Monti Even when you’re not here It still feels like you are here And it fills me with hope And it fills me with love And I know I will see you again You’ve given me such a gift And I want to make sure that you know To stand up so strong To know right from wrong And to live with a heart full of love I don’t need much of you’re time I know you’ve got much good work to do But I want you to know And I do my best to show That I love you Even when you’re not here It still feels like you are here And it fills me with hope And it fills me with love And I know I will see you again The Man Who Lost his Fear of God words and music © 2005 Chris Monti I’m a-divin in the water Have you seen my daughter? I’m a-divin in the water Hey! Hey! I’m a-comin up for air Have you seen her yellow hair? I’m a-comin up for air Hey! Hey! Lord don’t you hurt this girl, with her blue-eyes and curls She ain’t never done nothin wrong She raise up to you every day in praise That melodious voice in song I’ll dive below the waves My daughter for to save I’m a-divin in the waves Hey! Hey! I’ll go diving in the deep My daughter for to keep I’m a-divin in the deep Hey! Hey! I see the ghostly white like a moth in flight Through the green waters down below I’ll dive again if it is my end I can’t bear to see her go Lord if you take that girl I’ll still praise you till you die And when my time comes to leave this life by and by Open up those heavenly gates So I can see that girl again up on high Then I’ll bid you close And draw you near And stab you in the eye I’m a-divin in the water Have you seen my daughter? I’m a-divin in the water Hey! Hey! I’m a-comin up for air | Have you seen her yellow hair? I’m a-comin up for air Hey! Hey! I won’t commit no crime I’ll bid my time I’ll make you think that I’m true But when this life I leave There’ll be a dagger in my sleeve And that dagger is meant for you Leaving in the Morning words and music © 2005 Chris Monti I’m leaving in the morning I’m gonna take that early train I’m leaving in the morning I’m gonna take that early train I won’t say I’m tired of you But I will say I’m tired of all that rain One more cup of coffee and then I’ll hit the road One more cup of coffee and then I’ll hit the road You left me with nothing, but still I carry this heavy load I say to this woman “Will you be my woman?” She says, “I am a woman of my own” I say to this woman “Will you be my woman?” She says, “I am a woman of my own” “Oh Lord!” I say, “There go my plans for a happy home” I’m leaving in the morning I’m gonna take that early train I’m leaving in the morning I’m gonna take that early train I won’t say I’m tired of you But I will say I’m tired of all that rain Lowland words and music © 2005 Chris Monti I’m goin down to the lowland I’m goin down to the lowland If you’re not careful I will carry you down I’m waitin on my slow dance I’m waitin on my slow dance I been waitin on you But you ain’t come around Caroline and Matt's Wedding Song words and music © 2005 Chris Monti Oh sister on your wedding day What helpful things can your brother say? When we first met back in ‘79 I knew we’d have a real good time You’ve done everything right that I could not do But still you love me and I love you You’ve got wide arms and a watermelon heart And a good sense of family and that’s the best place to start We’ve become good friends over the course of out lives Now we’re old enough to talk about husbands and wives Oh sister and brother on your wedding day Listen to these words that I’d like to say Times will get tough but you can work through that part Just listen carefully and keep an open heart Take care of each other through thick and thin No matter what situation you find you’re stuck in Listen to each other Talk it through And remember that the other is in love with you Love is something we can’t understand It doesn’t fit in our brains It doesn’t fit in our hands It doesn’t do to keep it and you can’t just give it away But be quiet and listen for it And it can help you make your way LOVE …oh sister and brother on your wedding day Me and Curby words and music © 2005 Chris Monti Well I played a little for Curby Whom I met on a lonesome night His hands were in his pockets And his breath showed in the light It was too cold to play the guitar that night But I needed something bad My hands were red and stiff And this is all I had He’d spent last night in a church basement Where they gave him a three day stay And then they gave him a cup of coffee And sent him on his way I told Curby about the park Where I had stayed the night before All night afraid of being stumbled upon Waking up tired and sore He’d lost his job in Alabama Left the south for to roam Working here and there as a dishwasher No real place to call home He ended up in the Pacific Northwest Working at the Texaco Said, “I got laid off again when they merged or something, I don’t know” He’s got a brother in South California Where it seemed like it might be warm But it was nothin like Alabama And he couldn’t stay long Now he’s back out on the highway With nothing but his clothes He’s got everything to gain And nothing left to lose I’m still picking on my guitar Even though it is too cold Curby says, “I sure like them blues This is something that I know” Julie Song No. II written by Julie Restivo and Chris Monti Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti How quickly our needs recede and return As we bend our intentions to fit the weather I’ll match my movement to the strength of the wind Efficiency decreases as I begin where the ocean ends I begin where the ocean ends As clouds rise slowly from the seams In the desert two girls wash and wait for the day They will not know what has come in between Land is large here rippled like pants Rippled like music we dance and we dance Leaving this City Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti I would like to think that I could make this woman my wife But that won’t be the case in this life I would like to think that I could always be around So that I could pick her up when she’s down (chorus) I’m going away to leave this city Leaving all I have behind Oh and I don’t know Just exactly where I’ll go But I know, she’ll be on my mind She would never let me take hold of her hand I’d reach for it and she would pull it right away I was just trying to ease her through her crying And sometimes there’s not much that you can say I’m starting to understand what it will take to be a man Until I am, I will not reach out my hand (chorus) “If I were half the man that I thought you were looking for | I’d spend all my time looking for the other half” When I say this she just smiles, says, “I hate what you just said” But I had to say it because we might not have much more time (chorus) The bee Song Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti A bee in fall Myriad roses The bee does not alight A bee in spring sun Moves slowly through the branches Too soon for their buds Cats Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti (chorus) The streets are all strangers And even more strange are they to he who walks with the burden Of thinking that he knows what he should be To hold one’s self within the arms To hold one’s self within the heart Is to simply give the name While forgetting that more subtle part Test the water with only eye and toe They can touch without asking to know Drop your arms and drop your clothes And let the wind touch those places now exposed (chorus) The streets are all strangers And even more strange are they to he who walks with the burden Of thinking that he knows what he should be He who has purpose, his purpose he will exhaust He who does not seek to find, he is never lost Keep your eyes upon your feet Then you cannot think to think Who it is that is to meet (chorus) The streets are all strangers And even more strange are they to he who walks with the burden Of thinking that he knows what he should be The Local Expatriate Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti You know I can't decide if I'm a rich-boy or poor But I'd like to have my answer ready when they knock upon my door And they give me the what-for And they drag me down to the station And they tell me all about that great nation that they're building under God They tell me if I join on in I can share in some of that wealth But how can I make that decision if I'm wondering to myself Baby am I a rich-boy or am I poor? Every day I read the newspaper Take it for what it's worth I try to leave behind the question of better off or worse I take it all as education, learnin about this bountiful nation That forgets the kids and eats the poor While Robin Hood, she sleeps on the floor The line is drawn, the curse is cast My flag is flying at half-mast My education costs a dollar a day But what's it worth if all I have to say is “It’s all a mess but if you want to write you're gonna have to find that address for yourself” ? I ride the bus with paper and pen looking for a metaphor But each day arriving downtown there's little written when I walk out the door To dirty streets and peeing in beer bottles And frozen hands and uncooked meats There's a story about breakfast and lunch and dinner But really its not much of a tale | At home there's an artist, a painter, a poet he loves his work but he's much too frail Pining away on love lost for a few Who marveled for a while at his head and his hands But who slowly awayed like the colors do fade From his paintings of long-ago lands Rat-Bat Astard written by Chris Monti and Gabriel Luddy Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti Gonna tell you a story about some Rat-Bat Astard Who couldn't get it through the mail Spent his days pining away, his foot caught in the milking pail His hair was dirty and his beard was long And he had a very powerful smell Just-a-waitin' around, lyin on the ground For God to ring that dinner bell But what is God gonna say to you that you ain't heard already? And what is God gonna give to you that you ain't already got plenty? Wishing well send you straight to hell Who you gonna run to? Who you gonna tell? You ain't been kind, you ain't been discreet With that look in your eyes and your pants around your feet Runnin' around that underground Looking for your soul in the lost and found Of religion books on the dime-store shelves But not one of them is gonna delve Into the heart of the matter Like why you're running circles mad as a hatter While your soles are wearing thinner And your body's getting fatter Writin letters from your jail cell From above the taiga where it's cold as hell The snowy owl comes billowing by And the air is crisp ant the sky is high Lean back your head This will never be read Chained to a root in a mobile suit Is there ever an end to your days? You suck it all in through an indigo wind and the stars turn on in a blaze A panel of planes sweeps you into the sky And out into space you will sail And hear some story about some Rat-Bat Astard Who couldn't get it going through the mail Take your Rest Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti Why don’t you lay down and get some sleep I can tell by your smile that you’re in it deep It’s all right to take it slow You’ll be just fine, I know Get some sleep my dear Get some sleep my dear You’ll wake up to a brand new day The coffee and the paper and then you’re on your way You’ll be all right just take it slow You’ll be just fine I know Get some sleep my dear Get some sleep my dear Get some sleep my dear Take your rest right here Thorn in your Side Words and music © 2002 Chris Monti I ain’t tryin to be a thorn in your side But it ain’t like I’m some poor boy just lookin for a ride I ain’t no poor boy and I ain’t lookin for a ride But I’ve been thinking, together we might be satisfied Your rollin and tumblin, I ain’t never known Before I had the chance, had to hit the road Your rollin and tumblin, I ain’t never known But it’s something mighty fine That’s what that little bird told There was that one time when I took your hand Kissed you on the cheek, try to make you understand There was that one time when I took your hand Might mean nothing to you but it sure made me feel grand |
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