David Thomas Lyrics
Bay City
(2000)



Clouds Of You

I hear the bones buried in the hills.
I hear my brothers, my brothers still.
I hide away in a, a coupe de ville.
I will drive around.
It's funny.

I feel too loud to feel so dumb.
I drive into the rising sun.
Grey worms are writhin in the ashtray.
A cloud's appearin in the roadway.

I feel too loud to feel so numb.
I drive into the rising sun.
Grey worms are writhin in the ashtray.
A cloud's appearin in the roadway.
Honey.
Honey.
Honey, it's you.
Honey.
Honey.
Honey, it's you.

I hear the bones in the hills.
I hear my brothers, my brothers still.
I hide away in a, a coupe de ville.
I will drive around.
Funny... I feel alive!

I feel like rain when it hits the river.
I feel like rain when it hits the river.
Black rain / Green River.
Black rain.

Black rain / Green River.
Black rain.

I feel like rain when it hits the river.
I feel like rain when it hits the river.
Black rain / Green River.

Black rain / Green River.
Black rain.
Black rain / Green River.
Black rain / Green River.
Writers: Thomas-Jørgens-Teller-Acs.
©2000 Hearpen Music.
Lyrics by David Thomas.


White Room

Somebody touched me.
In a white room.
I cried,
I will be free.
Someday, I will be free.
Someday.

And somebody touched me.
It was in a white room.
I cried,
I will be free.
One day, I will be free.
Someday.
And somebody...

Somebody touched me.
In a white room.
I cried,
I will be free.
Someday, I will be free.
One day.

I will be free.
One day.
I will be free.
Writers: Thomas-Jørgens-Teller-Acs.
©2000 Hearpen Music.
Lyrics by David Thomas.


Black Coffee Dawn

All this rain and black coffee, too does something to a sense of time and place
what you might be feeling about a whole damn human race
Gets under your skin
worries at the place where all the pieces come together
picking away until something’s been pried up
like an old scab
and the wound is fresh

All this rain and black coffee
not doing me a bit of any good
I got too much time
way too much
Time, which has gotten to be personified
gotten to be multiplied
and they’s out there
shooting flares to light up the sky

Now they’s coming
swarming over the ridge
loudspeakers blaring
all dressed the same
and they’s looking at me screaming
“Die, Yankee!”
I’m hunkered down
knowing that I just can’t kill so much time

This morning, the sun is like a piece of paper
somebody tore out of a magazine
and they spit on the back, sticking it to the wall
but now it’s curling at the edges and about to fall
The morning is buzzing at me way too loud
My life hurts in places I never knew I could feel
All this rain and black coffee
not doing me a bit of any good.

Writers: Thomas-Jørgens-Teller-Acs.
©2000 Hearpen Music.


Salt

(Approaching Reno, Absolute US50)
A lost highway
A tin can in the sand
Salt
On my lips
On the window
A line
Straight
It disappears
The blink of an eye
The sea is gone
It’s the salt that lingers on
Up one ridge
Down the other side
The road is a line
Wait!

Half buried
On the side of the lonely highway
Tin can
In the sand
Salt
On my lips
On the window
The blink of an eye
Did you hear that?
Did you hear?
The sound of the sea
The sea is gone
Tin can
Hold it to your ear
Salt!

Sound lingers on
I turn to her
Do you hear?
Neon buzzing
No, it’s sound in a can
half buried in the sand
A lost highway
A tin can
In the sand
The sea is gone
It’s salt that lingers
Can you hear the neon?
Buzzing
Buzzing
Buzzing

Writers: Thomas-Jørgens-Teller-Acs.
©2000 Hearpen Music.


Nobody Lives On The Moon

Nobody lives on the moon.
Nobody lives on the moon.
People are never sayin goodbye on the moon.
Nobody knows.
Nobody knows.

Nobody cries on the moon.
Nobody cries on the moon.
People are never unhappy on the moon,
never unhappy on the moon.
Nobody knows.
Nobody knows.

Nobody lives on the moon.
Nobody lives on the moon.
I live on the moon.
Nobody lives on the moon.
But I live on the moon.
I live on the moon.
Nobody knows.
Nobody knows.
Writers: Thomas-Jørgens-Teller-Acs.
©2000 Hearpen Music.


Charlotte.


Call me a fool.
Pour me a drink.
Charlotte!
My head is on the blink.
Tell me what to think.
Charlotte!
Writers: Thomas-Jørgens-Teller-Acs.
©2000 Hearpen Music.


The Doorbell

What will I do if you go?
What will I do if you go?
What will I tell the neighbors?
How soon do you think they will know, if you go?

Who gonna talk to me?
Who gonna be my friend, if you go?

What will I do if you go?
What will I do if you go?
Who gonna care for my 'motional needs?
What will I say and then who will I be?

Who gonna talk to me?
Who's gonna be my friend?
Who gonna talk to me, if you go?

What will I do on my own?
I can have a party and still be alone.
I can sleep on my back and not answer the phone.
I can eat beans out of a can and keep the house tidy & neat.
If you go.
What will I do on my own?

How soon can you go?
I'd like to know.
I'd like you to know that I will miss you.
If you go.
Writers: Thomas-Jørgens-Teller-Acs.
©2000 Hearpen Music.


15 Seconds

He's a big ugly man in a boat.
And he waves at the kids.
And the water is emerald green as if the sky was cobalt blue.
And the air has got diamonds powdered thru it,
as the man shouts to the kids,
"You'd better close your eyes because in this world
"the good things is gonna sink while the bad things rise.
"Y'all better close yr eyes."
Writers: Thomas-Jørgens-Teller-Acs.
©2000 Hearpen Music.


The Radio Talks To Me

All this salt is like too much rain.
I hear people speak -
Well, they say it so plainly...
that all this salt is just so much rain.
All this salt has come to be like so much rain.
They call and they speak so plainly -
All this salt is like too much... pain,
too much pain -
too, too much.
Hugga-chugga.
Too much, too much pain.

You wanna rub salt into my wound.
You wanna send me on my way.
You wanna take the sheets from off of my bed.
And then you'll say, "Well, hell, you're gonna be better off that way."
I feel better off than dead already.

You wanna have to flavor up some humble pie for me.
You're gonna have to bind me up tight.
You wanna have to lick the salt from off of my bread.
And you'll say, "Well, you're gonna be better off that way."
Hell, I feel better off than dead already.
What more can I ask?

All this salt is like too much rain.
I hear people call and speak so plainly.
They say all this salt is like so much rain,
so much pain.
All this salt,
all this salt is so so too -
so so too.

You wanna rub salt in my wound.
You wanna send me on my way.
You're gonna take the sheets off of my bed.
You'll say, "You're gonna be better off that way."
I feel better off than dead already.

All this salt is like too much rain.
Writers: Thomas-Jørgens-Teller-Acs.
©2000 Hearpen Music.


Shaky Hands

Somewhere out there there is room for a man with fiery eyes,
and shaky hands,
who's got a ways to go...
who's got a ways to go.

(In the frying pan of a distant land,
you pulled up your stakes,
you fought off the snakes.)

Rain falls like fool's gold.
Across the starry night of the warning lights,
the gold's a flood pursued by rubes,
who bust out the riverside in haste...
who bust the riverside in haste.

(You hit the road looking for the mirror, said,
"Boy, you got what it takes!"
In the rain the road is a constraint.
It ties my mind to the rhythm grind of the neon line.)

No one knows my name so who's gonna take the blame,
when the blame is a flame,
and the flame is a fire that lights the night with gold,
that we fools do pursue...
that we fools do pursue.
We fools do pursue.
Writers: Thomas-Jørgens-Teller-Acs.
©2000 Hearpen Music.


Black Rain

Hey, somebody here's gonna have to make this thing work.
I'm hearin thru the grapevine it's gonna have to be me.
Writers: Thomas-Jørgens-Teller-Acs.
©2000 Hearpen Music.


Turpentine

Sometimes it rains all night.
Sometimes it rains at dawn.
Sometimes you hear the truth and it sounds like a voice of harm.

Everybody needs a roof to find shelter from a storm.
But everybody here must swear that in the morning you'll be gone.

Everybody here must leave.
Everybody here must be bled.
But it's a hard way to look at it,
to leave the facts unsaid.
Writers: Thomas-Jørgens-Teller-Acs.
©2000 Hearpen Music.

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