Up On High
Ghosts of Hallelujah
Gangsta Lean
County Orange
Ladies Choice
January 6
Pair of Goats
Fine Leather Truck
Bean Bowl
My Time, Yer Time
Son of Bum
The Flat Baritone
(the new way of) Grievin’ & Smokin’
Rugged Roses
Lowlands
Label: Sugar Hill
Release Date: February 23, 1999
Duration: 47:26
Recording Date: October, 1998
Recording Location: Laurel’s Ranch, TX
Up On High
Jimmy Smith
up on high where the wild foam vanilla baths flow
you know who chose the bones over the entrails
dispatch the toothless yapping dog
and while that dog was taking a shit
I snuck up behind him and gave him a kick
which turned him into a big black raven type bird
up on high where this new big black raven bird flies
you know he shows you down below where the better carrion lies
lies like a joseph disguised like a bum
a key to the kingdom a drunk with a gun
a beacon of truth floating in fiction
up on high where the wild foam vanilla baths flow
Ghosts of Hallelujah
Kevin Russell
Our candles are in danger from the way we carry them
So keep yer matches handy and wait to see if when
The ghosts of hallelujah trickle through the walls
brandishing the wrong words nail the cursings in the hall
The ghosts of hallelujah leave you there alone
counting bottles of medicine and longing for yer home
Don’t forget the hands that made you
Don’t forget yer lonely days
And soak yer heart in clover anytime you feel it sway
“I’ve got no harmless longings” at least that’s what she said
As night came even closer to the bare hips of my bed
So temptation sings a slow song and wraps yer lust in shame
The women take on new lives as you swagger with the lame
The ghosts of hallelujah leave you there alone
Counting bottles of medicine and longing for yer home
Don’t forget the hands that made you
Don’t forget yer lonely days
And soak yer heart in clover anytime you feel it sway
Gangsta Lean
Kevin Russell
Yer gonna have t’sit there and drink yer cup of muddy water
Yer gonna have t’let the blood dry on yer hands
Ask yer mama t’knit you a blanket from Esau’s thigh
Cause yer gonna have t’learn t’be lowly and wise
And you can’t tell me it sits alright with you
Gangsta lean gansta lean you done killed them all
Gangsta lean gangsta lean you done killed them
You got Beelzebub in yer little toe You got death on yer dry tung
You got to live alone you got to pray alone
Just like the people bone that you shatter
and you can’t tell me it doesnít bother you
Gangsta lean gangsta lean you done killed them all
Gangsta lean gangsta lean you done killed them
Yer life’s a melody and yer life’s a rhapsody
possessing the dark skin with romance
It’s not a mystery when you know the history
Of east coast and west coast killa’s
And you can’t tell me it doesn’t bother you
Gangsta lean gangsta lean you done killed them all
Gangsta lean gangsta lean you done killed them
County Orange
Jimmy Smith
our little friend
he didnít want to wear
his white buckled shoes
nor was barefoot
his speed
he didnt like grocery store feet
he was a fussy little kid
when it came to footwear
but on Friday he could wear whatever he damn well pleased
the jive ass trickery
that makes this anything
but what it is
dressed in county orange or city gray
got rubber sandals
just to be safe
metaphorically speaking
we find our little friend
back in his white buckled shoes again
the Monday if you will
of our Friday
spent in tailored bliss
but if you strip the myth
away from the man
its just one to six months
of Mondays for our little friend
Ladies Choice
Jimmy Smith
flyin down this hill on my schwin
well I guess this is where it all begins
go in sandburg come out like ray charles
an odor of jasmine for yer flowers
sometimes on my bicycle rides
these pleasantries fall from the trees
little Quixote’s fished out like floaties
from the bevy of yer choice
ladies choice
flyin down this hill on my schwin
well I guess it all could have ended then
unlike consternation’s quagmire above
the streets firmly paved ways
coupled with speed and gravity
and the craniums tendency
to leak vital information
all over the road to recovery
January 6
Kevin Russell
Waiting for the lozenge to clear yer throat
So you can stand up and say all the words you wrote
All along the fences, all along the lines
Yer gumption’s fading and the honeysuckle’s dyin’
Honeysuckle’s dyin’ and the birds all cry
Rain around the houses, rain around the limbs
Everything yer hating is everything you been
So pass around the roses, shiny up the bell
How dry I once was there ain’t no tung can tell
Twist another ashbone, make it phat and loose
Apply the isopropyl and play that ol’ gray goose
All along the fences, all along the lines
Yer gumption’s fading and the honeysuckle’s dyin’
Honeysuckle’s dyin’ and the birds all cry
Pair of Goats
Jimmy Smith
had some mojo I dont know
bit her hand and charged
wipe her life source from my chin
and my red guileful grin
that belies all the fire that flies
from my nostrils when I cry
get the to a nunnery get the to a nunnery
oh shes a fright in the morning
scare me
but morning maybe being
the opposite of night its just that very fright
that’ll make me goatlike or weepy
so come on down you tremble
yer wound pretty tight
score it with x’s and shove it my way
and when you bite me back
to even it up now there’s a pair
of goat’s that’s livin right
Fine Leather Truck
Kevin Russell
Whippoorwill won’t ya listen
To my roaming story
We started out frying
up a morning glory
I tell you ’bout the things ya like tíknow I found
& how the moon woke us up with a jigglin’ sound
In my fine leather truck
So I rolled up my dirty red pants
Took my shoes off
Crossed my legs when I danced
I did the hyena, the milkman and the fox-trot
We smoked our last then headed for the Pine Knot
In my fine leather truck
Then the rain came down
& soaked us all up
Could not keep the technology
from suckin’ us up
Spiderman was all I could remember then
We crossed the walls
& left that ugly town
In my fine leather truck
Bean Bowl
Jimmy Smith
flyin moth took what it could
yer half naked
moth did good
a rabbit jumps it
a sheep makes it
horse hockey
piggly wiggly
go cat go
and I want you to
crawl out of my bean bowl baby
little bit after midnight
dumb as rocks lie like a rug
temp agency
get you a job
left tackle
right guard
a lot of money
you don’t have to work to hard
I want you to crawl out of my bean bowl baby
a little bit after midnight
nurse ratchett got sompin to say
I want my cigarettes
juicy fruit
hey capin’ mouf Joe
he got sompin to say
stay away
from the evil dope
My Time, Yer Time
Jimmy Smith
folds and folds of hurling whirling words come spilling out yer hole
dont intellectualize yer eloquent vomit when you rise
now peter had Paul dont have it I have it have it said I
in this rolling glowing growing stolen place that dont belong to me
it aint funny you say ok I had it up to here with you
this giddy little lifetime yer time my time dont agree with you
some temper axes in the fire some sharpen knives upon a stone
some chop up veggies in the hobart some use the bloody robo coup
Son of Bum
Jimmy Smith
expecting me to clean my house out
under my fridge I found the roach bug
they were eating my potatoes
they even got to raise a fambly
it aint no failing I just want ’em out
I live in filth and now I want ’em out
they dont even hep me to pay my rent
they even eat the cash I hadn’t spent
the son of bum aint like a stink bug
they aren’t like the rolly pollies
they dont behave like a cicada
but there better than the crab bug
if I could only dream about them
and bathe them in the new age light
I’d put cookies in my bedroom
and gladly let them spend night in my bed
in my bed
The Flat Baritone
Kewvin Russell
Form a ring and wind and twine
Round the ol’ grape vine
Heavy on the wire from the house
Salt the cow and kill the calf
Meet yer lonesome with a once and a half
Gentís on the east and ladies on the south
The solemn boy carries his silver damage
Sold but for, the number and the image
His eyes have saddened making wine from the stems
Empty ears longing for the wood and the skins
Paper yellowed from the salt and the failure
When he sings he slurs
& uses the meat of his thigh
Tíhold the book he wrote when he was lame
So wrapped up in his flat baritone
No castrato could woo him in from the rain
For he never raised his voice when his britches
Was spilliní over with that honey truck richness
His eyes have saddened making wine from the stems
Empty ears longing for the wood and the skins
Paper yellowed from the salt and the failure
Well the stylus hit the patches
As he spit on the splashes
& sought out the scratches in the vinyl
‘Neath a needle topped with nickels
To keep the tunes a-goin’
Cracklin’, croonin’ & crowin’
Multi-colored, hard-boiled & hidden
In the corners, with the dogs rusty remnants
His eyes have saddened making wine from the stems
Empty ears longing for the wood and the skins
Paper yellowed from the salt and the failure
(the new way of) Grievin’ & Smokin’
Kevin Russell
Bottle night 3 am
Drying out in the den
Good fellowship, we gonna get it together
We gonna build and bitch
Oh fella’s I want you t’ know
I feel alright ’bout the new way
of grievin’ and smokin’
A coward in the grass
Burn me up in July
Lookin’ in t’August
With my shirt on fire
Oh well I want you all t’know
I feel alright ’bout the new way
of grievin’ and smokin’
All ye bugs and nitrates
Whom gather round the roots
Soak these minerals up
Til yer rusty thru & thru
Oh well I want ye bugs t’know
I feel alright ’bout the new way
of grievin’ and smokin’
Rugged Roses
Jimmy Smith
tell me with yer eyes
in silence let them ring
the precious humming of our hearts
in silence let them sing
may our phantoms find there places
where ever that may be
let only the sound of love dear echo endlessly
for you for me
I won’t wait a week and pine for a love that isn’t there
we will watch the river flow past pretty flowers growing there
and the gravity and spin will pass by freely in the wind
to find us quiet in the sunset two old rugged roses
planted firmly by the riverbed
let the tender petals fall
like yer long cascading hair
let the volume of yer moans
deny no passion in the air
and from the center of my bones
I’ll kiss often and with care
but not every kiss is always placed so keenly
Lowlands
Kevin Russell
I saddled me a wounded priest
Rode him wet through this August heat
I took me a German bride
all empty and bloody inside
in the dark I heard a thief
he stole my money and my grief
in the morning I wanted to die
the doctor cut me the lawyer lied
stop yer waiting and just go
don’t be saying what you don’t know
for the lowlands I am bound
where my pale bride will be found
Cucurbipedia 