(Some mumbling…)   Pretty soon the hippies of today, will be the squares of tomorrow   It was the echoing voices of the old ones   Through thick steeled forests and over scorched earth   Always just out of reach   A herder of crows judged my every footstep   My bones were frozen   Penniless and entirely out of breath    I washed my beautiful hands in the black market dog water trough   But through it all the real stick in my spokes   Was the torment of my dreams   I fought of sleep with both fists and sometimes fire   With no more then a blow gun I made from an exhausted pen   I shot the stars out of the sky   When each one fell sparkling to the ground   I made wishes that never came true   Apparitions of angels with angry eyes   Appeared at each new moon   My own ghost be gain whispering   Trees died if I tried to climb them   The decision was made for me   To begin interpreting real life just as I would nightmares   (More mumbling…)      Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65   Watching an already dead world vanish   We the banished and outlawed wander   Hither and yonder    Like dogs gone hungry   Funky and angry and sometimes ugly   Drums like drugs have turned us to scavengers   Pathfinders, addicts and mathematicians    Practicing is a black magic   We make music from used up junk and bad luck dreams   Liars and losers   Emus and aardvarks   Gypsies and pint thieves   Peddlers, Card Sharks   All of us fortune tellers home in the forest   Hard core, building a cardboard fortress   Fore ward fast and backwards blindfolded    Trying to find gold buried in flood planes   Covered in blood stains   Fly bites and egg yolk   Running away with one of my legs broke      Sometimes it’s lonesome   Traveling homeless   Not knowing where you’re going   Riding the railroads   Pickups and sailboats   Most of the loco-motives   Once we decide to see some of the country side   Working with circus   Performers and cut-throats    Discussions with perfectionists, perverts and poets   Haven’t you ever heard of the…   1200 hoboes?   We aren’t vampires dressed like rock stars   We build campfires and ride box-cars    Town to town, we just write songs   And plus we stay up like all night long   Cuz we aren’t vampires dressed like rock stars   We build campfires and ride box-cars   Town to town, we just write songs   And plus we stay up like all night long       20 some years is a long walk   Even if its not in a straight line   You see a lot of things in the distance   You know what they say about great minds   You and I think about the same things   Dream the same dreams   Play the same games   We started out in the same place   Believe it or not we got the same names   Everything happens for a good cause   Whether it be victory or loss   And the road may turn into a run way   But you’ll know what to do someday   Trust me I’ve seen it all before   I’ve climbed to the tops of the tallest trees   To get away from the deep water   To feel the touch of the smallest breeze   You’ll find a girl with a low voice   Who holds the world in her bare hands   You’ll fall in love you’ll have no choice   Once you are given a fair chance   For the first time you will sleep well   Take a deep breath    See the sun shine   Hold on to her for dear life   And then watch the whole world unwind   Ask her to show you some magic   And I guarantee that she will say yes   Tell her you’ve seen forever and   You’ll be together not a day less   Just know until that time comes   And after you cross that first mile   That the hardest part is behind you   And all the pain will be worthwhile   (From storm clouds, Come angels, Let pain give you pleasure   From dirt roads, to flowers, when faith can be measured   From storm clouds, Come angels, Let pain give you pleasure   From dirt roads, To Flowers, when faith can be measured.      I know a man who was born with his heart on the outside   Every mans worst fear he also had heavy hands   He couldn’t touch his lovers face   He couldn’t hold a baby   He would never desert them    But he was worried he would hurt them maybe   Mad at the world his face turned hot pink   The best he could do was just try to not think   But he was to bothered   So he would only try rarely   He read the last page of every book in the library   He lacked the charisma    Of a true revolutionary crime fighter   Would try to write but kept breaking his typewriter   He preaches manifesto militant radical   Was diligent but his greatest mistakes were gramatical   If he only spent more time rehearsing and preparing   There wouldn’t have to be so much cursing and swearing   Eyes on fire   His volume was blistering   No one had taught him about the power of whispering   He is dynamite   Blows kisses   Eats dirt   His mouth of a volcano   He is a t-shirt   He stands on stilts   But doesn’t stand for funny stuff   Ask me    He just hasn’t been around the sun enough   He paints self-portraits    With a roller   Only eats corn   And then tries to sell his own soul   On a street corner   He always remembers everyone’s numbers   And sometimes cries into his own cumbersome hands      (Scratching... Mixes…)   Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind   And lord knows I try to close my eyes   But it happens so fast   I keep my eye on the ball   But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall   And like   Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind   And lord knows I try to close my eyes   But it happens so fast   I keep my eye on the ball   But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall   Red beginning to end and measured sideways   I’ve traveled the length of your desert highways   Been under your bed   And slept in ditches   I saw your scars   Was kept in stitches   To keep from crying   I’m trying not to pay attention   But as I may have mentioned   I’m being held hostage   I’m lost and exhausted   I want to go home now   But I’m to far gone   And I don’t even know how   The silent knight and tarnished armor   Charming and harmful   The charma chameleon    Might get violent   Dancing with shadows   And playing charades   It’s the miscible plan    Of the invisible man   And what’s it like    Living life   You may ask   Standing on the other side   A two way glass   Well it’s not what it’s cracked up to be   I’ll tell you that much   You can look   But you can’t touch   Like   Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind   And lord knows I try to close my eyes   But it happens so fast   I keep my eye on the ball   But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall   And like   Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind   And lord knows I try to close my eyes   But it happens so fast   I keep my eye on the ball   But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall   All I want to do    Is go fly a kite   Or take a hike   And try and keep myself   From taking a flying leap   There’s ringing in my ears   Especially at night   Collidescopic visions of a cocaine cat fight   People play parlor games   Behind closed doors   Secrets are sacred   When nobody knows yours   But somebody does   You forgot about the bottom feeders   The dirty rotten cheaters   And all of us stock breeders   Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind   And lord knows I try to close my eyes   But it happens so fast   I keep my eye on the ball   But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall   And like   Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind   And lord knows I try to close my eyes   But it happens so fast   I keep my eye on the ball   But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall