Going Underground (A Rock and Roll Song in G)

Going Underground
You won’t see me no more,
Going Under ground
When I find the door,
You aint ever going to see me around,
Going Underground,

I’ve been walking around like Cassius Clay,
It seems like I always have something to say,
People are getting tired of seeing my face,
Well I’m tired of it, too,
Only one thing left to do,
So I’m getting out of the human race,

Going Underground
Where things will be fine,
Going Underground
Where the sun don’t shine,
You aint going to hear me make a sound,
Going Underground,

I saw you out just the other night,
First thing I wanted to do was pick a fight,
But you just turned and walked away,
So I fought with myself,
Put my head up on a shelf,
And now this is all I have to say,

Going Underground
Rock back on my heels,
Going Underground
Just to see how it feels,
Don't look for me in the Lost and Found,
Going Underground

(Fade Away)

Dead Man's Hat

There was a Rolls Royce Silver Shadow in the garage,
There was a Stetson hat in the closet,
Everything was for sale,
The man had been successful
That’s for sure,
But he crossed the line once too often
Driving headlong into oncoming oblivion,

But that reality only happened
After the fact,
His old hoopty car
Turned into a Rolls Royce Silver Shadow,
His backwards turned Royals baseball cap
Into a brand new Stetson,
It all happened at the point of impact,
When a man reached up on the closet shelf
To try on
The dead man’s hat.

The Fiery Sword

God has spared me from many things
From death and dying
From adulterous situations
From compromises
Now change will come with terrible swiftness
The Horseman with the fiery sword
The tip of it at my neck
Telling me to watch and do not speak
While being cut apart
From family
From possessions
From sanity.

Having lived a comfortable life
Having eaten much too well
Having ignored those more disfortunate than I,
Will bring about death
Will bring about despair
Will bring about an eye for an eye.

With no place to go
With no place to hide
With wondering, waiting and awe,
Running from the Maker
Running from the Truth
Running away from the Law.

God has spared me the embarrassment
Of a life that has been mislead
Of having to struggle
Of being in want
Now change will come in a fiery whirlwind
The Horseman bearing down like a tiger
With its teeth at my neck
Telling me to watch and not speak
While being cut off
From Freedom
From Pride
From Vanity

So I continue down the path
Not knowing where to turn
Which road to take or what direction
Until such time that I find
A little more peace of mind
And just a slight touch of perfection.

Chinese Death Spiral

He tempted the Old Ones with his pridefulness,
Challenging them to show themselves out by the dojo,
“Come on out, Kuo! Show your face Zhang!”
“I know you all are out there! So show your face!”
“My Gong Fu is better than yours!”
He kept on exhorting them in his drunkenness,
Throwing an empty Mickey’s bottle in their general direction
He turned his back on the octagonal deck,

Then he heard laughter,
“Must be the neighbors,” he said out loud,
He noticed that the dogs were lying under the brown pickup,
Looking at him and perking their ears in his direction,
“What are you all looking at?” he growled,
He opened another beer and felt a light breeze on his arm,

Then, as he started to walk off toward the barn,
He slowly started to turn and his left arm extended,
He walked the Circle of the Eight Directions,
His right arm extended and he felt himself being pulled inward,
He was moving faster now, spiraling downward,
He felt a rubbing sensation on his left wrist and arm,
Unable to stop his circular movement, he was bent toward the ground,
There was a raucous laughter all around, echoing in the hedge trees,
The dogs huddled together and whined as he fell,
The spiraling continued and he twisted and writhed in a circle,
When he finally stopped, an opressive weight held him down,

He could not breathe or stand up,
He heard the laughter disappearing in the leaves,
He lay there and heard footsteps on the octagonal deck of the dojo,
Then the laughter ceased,
And the breeze blew cool in his face,
He got up, dusted off his clothes,
And bowed to the Eight Directions.

Aren't You Afraid? (A Song In A Minor Key)

When you touch that door
Coming out of a public restroom,
Aren’t you afraid?

When you eat off of that plate
In the restaurant,
Aren’t you afraid?

When you put those headphones on
In the music section of the bookstore,
Aren’t you afraid?

Aren't you afraid
When you look up in the sky?
Aren't you afraid
To look people in the eye?
Aren't you afraid
When someone says goodbye?
Aren't you afraid?
To know the reason why?

When you slip between the sheets
In that hotel room,
Aren’t you afraid?

When you sip from that glass of expensive wine
In your favorite bar,
Aren’t you afraid?

When you're out on the highway
Driving in your new car,
Aren't you afraid?

Aren’t you afraid
When you walk out in the street?
Aren’t you afraid
Of the people that you meet?
Aren't you afraid
That somebody's looking at you?
Aren’t you afraid
Of everything you do?
Aren’t you afraid?

Dangerous Dimentia

There are holes torn in the fabric of reality,
Where the holes are things appear:
A growling creature in the mailbox,
A screech owl sitting on the breakfast table,
When he went to harvest the honey
There were worms and moths instead of bees
Causing him to drop his honey tools and run away,
A phantom jet overhead at tree top level
With the snarling face of Chennault’s P-38 Flying Tigers,
Voices singing, “At his feet the six wing-ed seraph,
Cherubim with sleepless eye,” over and over,
A five gallon bucket of gasoline next to the gas stove,
A vision of Jesus glaring at him and yelling, “Shalom! Shalom!”
Closing his eyes and seeing eidetic images of vampires,
Hands writing things on the wall,
Cars left running all night for the getaway,
Carbon monoxide hallucinations,
A panda bear in the mulberry tree,

And then nothing
But a huge white hole
To step through
And become
Somebody else’s nightmare.

Skeptical Spectacles

He got his first pair when he was in the third grade
After running into a tether ball pole,
He told the optometrist that he could see much better
But there were no lenses in the frames,
When he finally got the real ones
He couldn’t believe what he saw through them
And made a spectacle of himself
Telling his teacher that he had x-ray vision.

Now in his older days,
He is much more skeptical,
His optometrist tells him the new frames
Make him look like the intelligentsia,
That he looks just like Jack Nicholson,
But he doesn’t believe optometrists anymore.

Peering out over the tops of them,
He can perceive the world as it is,
Blurred and myopic,
And when he looks directly through them,
He can still escape to that childhood world
Of x-ray vision.