riverbed
I have been listening to this Buck 65 album straight through almost once a day recently and the “Riverbed” songs, or poems or whatnot are seriously interesting with some nice. here is what i could find of them on the web.
“Riverbed 1″
i take my orders from the street lights, wind at my shoulder
the afternoon is grey and the air is getting colder
i’m old fashioned and on foot, passionate and fascinated
wide eyed awake and ready for anything
navigating side walks, dry docks and back alleys always
in and out of elevators and hallways
i’m out for a walk and following the human currents
i’m in no hurry i need no reassurance
curfews and purfumes; excuses and costumes
customs, corrections, fuss or directions
even the leaves have taken on lives
deprived of their privacy, purpose and property
probably runaways, they play catch
with stray cats that stay at the girl’s school,
the city’s a whirlpool,
there’s too much going on, there’s too much garbage,
too much to choose from, too much carnage
there’s not enough quiet to think straight, it’s not a stunt
maybe i will make my way back to the waterfront
this is where the people are slightly unsavoury
with no time, possessions, labor or slavery
neighbors without names neglected and hip-checked,
stripped down to nothing, fallen and ship wrecked
completely uncalled for, way out of line
stranded, branded, weathered and abandoned
these are the counter clock wise, the despised
with swollen noses and tears in their eyes
and tears in their clothes and time on their hands
they sleep walk
full of that cheap wine and cheap talk
everything gets washed away here at the pier
the best you can do is to play it by ear
wishes sink to the bottom and doubts float
i’m afraid of the water and i live in this houseboat
i take my orders from the street lights, wind at my shoulder
the afternoon is grey and the air is getting colder
i’m old fashioned and on foot, passionate and fascinated
wide eyed awake and ready for anything
navigating side walks, dry docks and back alleys always
in and out of elevators and hallways
i’m out for a walk and following the human currents
i’m in no hurry i need no reassurance
curfews and purfumes; excuses and costumes
customs, corrections, fuss or directions
even the leaves have taken on lives
deprived of their privacy, purpose and property
probably runaways, they play catch
with stray cats that stay at the girl’s school,
the city’s a whirlpool,
there’s too much going on, there’s too much garbage,
too much to choose from, too much carnage
there’s not enough quiet to think straight, it’s not a stunt
maybe i will make my way back to the waterfront
this is where the people are slightly unsavoury
with no time, possessions, labor or slavery
neighbors without names neglected and hip-checked,
stripped down to nothing, fallen and ship wrecked
completely uncalled for, way out of line
stranded, branded, weathered and abandoned
these are the counter clock wise, the despised
with swollen noses and tears in their eyes
and tears in their clothes and time on their hands
they sleep walk
full of that cheap wine and cheap talk
everything gets washed away here at the pier
“Riverbed 2″
— couldn’t find this one —-
“Riverbed 3″
There’s people living in the neighboring barges
Guilty of assorted compliments and charges
Like the one eyed cyclist who never wears socks
He covers his mouth with his hand when he talks
His name is Rene, they say he is a communist
There is something about his demeanor that’s ominous
Gord with his card tricks escaped from the row
His mouth is always in the shape of an O
His brother is locked up and he awaits his release
He talks about politics and hates the police
Linda doesn’t have long to live probably
She’s wiccan and used to read palms for a hobby
She came to visit one night and just sat there
And laughed the whole time, her clothes covered in cat hair
Aubrey wears two watches at once and a bow tie
He is missing a thumb and nobody knows why
He’s not the best ventriloquist in the world, but he wants to be
He’s an excellent dancer and smokes reefer constantly
Big, fat Nigel works as a florist
He’s openly gay and looks like a tourist
He’s very polite with a good sense of humor
He’s heir to a fortune or at least that’s the rumor
Washed up and wounded, we are the recycled
Earthy, thirsty, sleazy and seaworthy
At the foot of the trees the tramps drink and they day dream
They use the fountain to stay clean, they’re not as bad as they may seem
Each day they reenact the ritual of abandon
They sit there and serenade people at random
As the thought of a job and a bedroom refrigerates
They drift on alcoholic wings in figure-eights
Wine and water, regarded as stupid weirdos
More wine and water, they feel like superheroes
One once was a boxer whose ego remains bandaged
He once took a beating that left him with brain damage
One plays a horn and was born with a wooden leg
He plays on some days cause he feels that he shouldn’t beg
One worked in the factory before it closed down
He’s fine if there’s plenty of wine to go around
Sunken and drunken, frustrated and lonely
These people don’t die, they evaporate slowly
No matter how desperate, no matter how lawless
They rely on the river for some kind of solace
It sings to the softly and lulls them to sleep heavily
It’s soothing and every bit heavenly
Each morning before they get into the booze, as they say
They usually give me the news of the day
And if it were up to them to shout the decision
An aurora borealis and all men out of prison
“River Bed 5″
My dear so and so is very far away.
The stone in your stomach, there’s no way to start the day.
I pray to the waves, and utter my wishes,
I’d rather have spirals and butterfly kisses.
My wings for a morning, to swim in her breeze,
To walk across deserts with similar ease,
I’d surrender my fortune, and burn the last chapter,
Swallow the future and deal with the past after.
Ache is inside me, it burns for her edges,
It lingers,
I long for her lips and her fingers,
Her voice on my skin, the hush of her lullaby
My blood starts to rush and shooting stars multiply.
Bottomless kisses,
I wanna unfold her,
Sleep tangled up with her head on my shoulder,
She holds my breath, I swallow her fire,
The slower she goes, I’ll follow her higher,
We navigate each other’s lengths, we parachute in waterfall,
We hold ourselves open and restrain ourselves not at all,
I torture myself with runaway intentions,
No sound, no light, time starts to slow down,
The storm washes over me, she takes me apart.
She masters my body, and breaks my heart,
I cover the clocks and try to remember to forget,
To forgive
To forsake
And to forfeit.
“Riverbed 6″
a deaf violinist, plays on the docks
he’s missing a tooth and he stands on a box
his gestures are feverish, his cheeks wet with tears,
he sleeps in his jacket, or so it appears
he plays from the late afternoon through the evening
and bows with his hat in his hand before leaving
he plays for the angels themselves, i’m convinced of it
because no music at all comes out of his instrament
“the houseboat must have travelled during the night
seemingly strange, outside the climate and scenery changed
the dawn was accelerated by the sound of fighting
a woman screaming and choking, it was frightening
i ran on deck, filled with dread as well as anger
to see a woman grasping for the chain of the anchor
the situation was depressing and stressful
she tried to drown herself in the river, but was unsuccessful
scrambling to figure out what to do first
the more she wanted to live again, the screaming grew worse
i pulled up the chain with the help of a drunken tramp
she was soaking, hiccuping, spitting and choking
the tramp shouted orders to those standing around
telling them what they should do for the drowned
the woman was broken from what she had been through
i offered her clothing for her to change into”
