Today is the day
There is no other day
Except for today

Old Man Death took his last breath
Goin' down to the Heckhole
Jumped right in, shed his own skin
And came back out a knothole

Automatic Slim was shootin' it again
Got the whole town to jumpin'
When Eris leaped in, put him in a spin
Now the whole town is fuckin'

Old Maid Sally was waitin' in the Valley
For a knight of shining armor
Packed it all in for a big boy's spin
She don't have to wait no longer

I got the dogs outta my head
I got the snakes were crawlin' under my bed
I got the eyes turnin' to desire
Got 19 heads and a soul full o' fire

Cowboy Bill took a great spill
When he fell off his horsie
Brion smoked in, took away his sin
Now Bill commands the forces

I got the walls outta my head
I got the screechin' outta my bed
I got the tongues in liquid fire
Got 23 ways that will inspire

Cat on a hot tin is cavin' my roof in

I was born in the heat of a deep recline
Couldn't get in from out the inside

Old Man Death took his last breath
Goin' down to the Heckhole
Jumped right in, shed his own skin
And came back out a knothole (and you can too)
 
 

SASHAY (lyrics written 1996-1997)
from Dogs Begin to Crawl, Snakes Begin to Howl

Back into the world
Sashay suave in the sidewalk dew
Up on top of everything
Wasp woman do what she gotta do

The key around her neck
Notebooks tumble in open room
The angle of her legs
Nipples outlined in the window moon

You know she will return
With her shack back open
Down to two thin dimes
We all do our own chokin'

Lamps crowd out the room
Schoolgirls stumble on down the road
It makes me think of the ballrooms
Asses outlined in the totem's mud

Lazy, baby, lazy!

Move it on down that golden road
Up on it, sweet leech lady
A stumble's just as good as a rustle
And remember: keep yo' lamps lit low

The key around her neck
Notebooks tumble in the open room
The angle of her legs
Nipples outlined by the window moon

Into this world and all of the others
Tell me, what do they call your mother?
Gonna come on home with you
Gonna walk on you
Gonna walk you on out yonder
On out yonder
Out
 
 

AIN'T THESE THE TIMES? (lyrics written 1998)
from Dogs Begin to Crawl, Snakes Begin to Howl

Well, I done said it, and I'll say it one more time
Every day a little frog will crawl up out of your slime
A cactus will salute you, and you will head on down to Moanland
Uncle-Auntie-Brother-Mother will prove you are the better man

Judge Craver can't condemn you
While you runnin' behind his car
And let me tell you this
Everybody really is a star (who cares!)

Ain't these the times?
I can't remember
Is it really three o'clock
Or a week till November?

I don't know (yeah, you do)
I used to but I forgot
Ain't these the times?
Ain't it?
I mean, it better be
Oh baby, oh mama, I been goin' through some changes
Ain't these the times?

Well, I said it once, and I'll say it one more time
Every day a little frog will crawl into your slime

Ain't these the times?
I can't remember
Is it really three o'clock
Or a week till November?
October
September
August!

Oh baby, I been goin'
I don't knowin'
I don't know about no Millennium
But it's still yesterday in Walker Springs
And last time I heard, it's still tomorrow down in Mississlippy Town

Right behind yo' face
That was the place
One upon a timespace
 
 

AIN'T NO PRISON LIKE A ZOO (lyrics written 1998-1999)

Help me if you can't!
I feel like an ant

Millions of years ago
When we were all free
To suck our sugar
And grow our own beans

When the lakes were all oceans
And man lived in the sea
Those were our days
This is our dream

I wish I was a mole in your garden ground

My name is my odor
And all colors are gray
No words from my mouth
Use telepathic ways

When the earth opens wide
And time ceases to be
Beware the sword of justice
And children of the sea
 
 

CUT 1 PASTE 0 (written circa 1992; revised circa 1996)
earlier versions appeared on None Is the Loneliest Numberand Fields Rattle

analogs dialogues digital scratch heads--greenin' sealin' unstuck in faces of mind-glue--flexin' sexin' into frame--pan--cut to 1 paste in 0 fuckin' up the field--jazzin' misty in my boundless dream-cream woman in the soup--pools of glisten-fuck doin' the undone spaces--shove thru my buildin' uppin' pumpin' syrup in the soul pockets filled git me a mojo hand--69in' 86in' ain't NOTHIN' but a #--cut to 1 paste in 0 fuckin; up the field--tender horny hands of wobbly women confoundin' curiosity the fuckin' verbosity the pure drain of hair on fire and buddy so new--do I have to choose? either/or? neither/nor? I'm so fuckin' sore--cut 1 paste 0 fuckin' up the fields, y'all--lamp-shade roach-clip toe-nail bang-up isolation and insulation and insinuation--cut to 1 paste in 0--always lost in the gridwork always stuck in the gridlock--the plannin' that my mind keeps dumpin'--the pannin' that keeps us all jumpin'--cut to 1 paste in 0 fuckin' up the force field-spread it why can't we? let it--cut to 1 paste in 0 fuckin' up the fields--the curiosity the fuckin' verbosity--cut--cut--cut to 1 paste in slowdown--cut to 1--cut to 1 paste in--fuckin' up--
 
 

CURVES & RESISTANCE (lyrics written 1990)
from ¿Et II Bluto?

Earful wiggle brows are archin'
Kneecaps teary fitful, I'm searchin'
Little girl sittin' next to me
Turns her head and looks right at me

Friday pigs his way right into
Joe's been bassin' righteous tunes
The kiddies yellin' outside just for yellin'
I need your time, I need your slippy shelter

I explode into the lightnin' dark
And I ain't denyin' this ever widenin' arc

Thinkin' buddha and burnin' too
They's a hole, I ain't got no room
Woman movin' into this resistance (mine)
Excuse me, can I get a witness?

And I--

Earful wiggle brows are archin'
Kneecaps teary fitful, I'm still searchin'
Little girl come sit next to me
Turn my head, she looks right at me

Friday pigs his way right into
Joe's been 'Spacin' righteous tunes (bro!)
The kiddies yellin' outside just for hell
I need your hands, you know I need your shelter

And I explode--
 
 

GALAPAGOS (lyrics written 1993-1994)
from ¿Et II Bluto?

    [the glutton's bellyache]
ah'm sloppin' up that lard belly
hawngry for that donut fat
piggy knuckle hem'roid ruttin'
gizzard gristle cheezy blab

    [the watcher replies]
bewilder us not in twilight uh comin'
for fear is a key to a room full of bees
balance us all in this veg'table recline
I want what's before me, and I get what I need

    [the glutton bitches some more]
you turnip-lovin' tater-totin'
mushroom-eatin' son of a mom
you lesbian-votin' raisin-loafin'
ganja-breathin' man of the mud

    [posthuman poots, followed by humorous response]

    [the glutton becomes paranoid and defensive]
we up against a pine-knot wall
you done pushed us out the future scene
we stole this land fair and square
in the names of god and blood and greed

    [the watcher reiterates his point]
consider the dirt you scrape off your boots
'cause tomorrow is here and you can't even see
cover us all in blankets of spacetime
I want what's before me, and I get what I need

    [the glutton throws more epithets]
you woman-kissin' work-resistin'
baby-makin' daughter of earth
you money-grabbin' tarot-blabbin'
garlic-growin' woman of ferns

    [the watcher keeps on circlin']
bewilder us not in twilight uh comin'
for fear is a key to a room full of bees
balance us all in this veg'table recline
I want what's before me, and I get what I need
 
 

THE GOVERNOR SMILED as he lay his sweaty greezy palm on the Bible and began to repeat the oath--it was that little Bible he'd requested be used in the ceremony because of "family ties"--sentimental and humble, Christian values--audience wiping tears of denial and racism, killing and fear--he wheezed to himself with righteous self-knowledge: he'd swiped the black book from the hotel-room drawer the night before his wedding--night he'd liquored up and got down--night he butt-raped his loyal wife-by-his-side--somehow he knew why at that moment as his hand caressed the word of God mouthing empty promises--flashback his white mixing with her red, his fiance's torn anus melting into nooses on niggers and Jews to be blamed--he was getting hard, and shot his bleached lifted tucked drugged wife a glance that made her much-abused asshole pucker in horrible American anticipation. "So help me God!" (written 1992)
 
 

RUN PREACHER RUN (lyrics written circa 1992)
live version from 'Shroom-Tit Arithmetic/ living-room version from None Is the Loneliest Number

All my friends are bootleggers and bootlickers
Righteous dealers and deep revealers
You better run preacher run
You never see the cycles
Burn preacher burn
I'll put my words in your fire

Here's to race-mixers and mix-masters
Native rattles and let's dismantle
Run preacher run
Your time is dissolving
Turn preacher turn
The circuits are all burning

I would tongue the texture
Nook 'n cranny, rise 'n flow
Drop down hard time mama
The rollin' holy tumblin' ghost

Move preacher move!

All my friends are bootleggers and bootlickers
Righteous dealers and deep revealers
You better run preacher run
You never see the cycles
Burn preacher burn
I'll put my words in your fire
 
 
 

EDDIE FLOWERS AND BILL McCARTER, CIRCA 1984, PONDER THE POSSIBILITIES OF CRAWLSPACE

DOOMSDAY XMAS BONFIRE (lyrics written 1985)
from In the Gospel Zone

On the day Jesus was born
I was drinkin' Bud and feelin' bad
He has a way of spoiling things
Let's nail him to that cross again

Pagan tongues in search of truth
Shotgun holes in the leader's head
String 'em and party down
It's holiday time again

Doomsday Xmas bonfire
Lit in my mind
Push the button, strike the match
Burn the churches to the ground

Canine dreams of ripping flesh
Lost inside the convent of blood
I couldn't find the right words
Inside god's thesaurus

Lick it up and spew it out
I can't get it through my head
I say my prayers late at night
To plastic busts of Elvis

Doomsday Xmas bonfire
Happy New Year
Push the button, strike the match
Flames consume society
 
 

All words ©1985-2003 Eddie Flowers