Monster Walks The Winter Lake, 1986My Theory Of Spontaneous Simultude / Red Tin Bus.Murky angles, pink triangles is how I feel - fragments of thought hangin like mobiles in the air. That's how I feel. I'm sorry. I feel abstract tonight. I feel abstracted. It reminds me of a theory of mine. I call it Spontaneous Simultude. it goes something like this: EVERYTHING IS LIKE SOMETHING, ANYTHING LIKE SOMETHING ELSE. And in technical terms I can express it algebraically: A - Gimme an "A," Allen. "A" A equals B. "B." You... "U." ...bet. "Beta." ho-ho-ho! Let's try it on for size. Complete this phrase, Daved, I AM LIKE __________ "I am like..." Complete the phrase! "I am like... a song." See how that makes - 'I am like a song'! Tony, complete this phrase, I AM LIKE __________ "A train." A train! Now, see how everything starts to make sense when you get spontaneous simultude goin here? "Wait a minute, I've got another idea!" No, you've had your turn. Allen, I AM LIKE __________ "You." Wow, yeah - ho-ho-ho! Garo, complete this phrase, I AM LIKE __________ [Mumble] Like a what? [Mumble] Garo is from New York so we won't count him - I'm going to complete a phrase now. I AM LIKE A RED TIN BUS. See how that makes sense? It makes sense, doesn't it? I am like a red tin bus, made in Taiwan. People's faces are painted on but they're painted on in alarm. People would see me, they'd say, "Man, who's that crazy bus driver sittin in that bus driver's seat?" Oh, I am like... "Another song!" Writers: Thomas-Hild-Maimone-Ravenstine-Yellin. © 1986 Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. What Happened To Me. Such a thing could never happen to me, or anyone I know. Not I, not me - Not I, not me, at the bottom of the sea. Hapless, hopeless, a figure of fun - children are pointing, saying, "He is the one!" Such a thing could never happen to me, or anyone I know. To Pharoah it did happen, to Harold it did happen, to the Turks long ago - they were all laid low. Not I, not me - Not I, not me, at the bottom of the sea. Hapless, hopeless, a figure of fun - children are pointing, saying, "He is the one!" Such a thing could never happen to me, or anyone I know. Such things don't happen to people like me, or people that I know. I know. Writers: Thomas. © 1986 Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Monster Walks The Winter Lake. Part 1. A monster is an imaginary animal. "A monster is an imaginary animal compounded of incongruous elements." That's what it says in the book. I looked it up. Says that in the dictionary. Sounds like a dictionary phrase. Sometimes you can tell, when things come from the dictionary. A monster is an imaginary animal, and I wondered if it sounded like anyone you know. No? Awright. It's an imaginary animal. We've patched ours together from parts that don't matter. We made him live for someone to talk to. He's monstrous & kind. He's playful & charming. People love him, and we love him too. One small flaw - it seems maybe we missed something out. Just a small fly in the ointment. It's he's got no heart. He's got no heart. He's got no part of a future, no part of a past - nothing to share, nothing to confide. He's got no heart. He's got no heart. What kind of a price to pay for no comfort, no comfort? Part 2. The monster stands at the edge of the winter lake. Looks out over the land of the silence stretching out between us, the king of the Land of the Silence, stretching out between us most like forever, or a winter lake. It's most like forever, or a winter lake - frozen, white & waste, tense & unbroken - the silence between us, out there, out there, roams the king of the Land of the Silence between us - winter bare - a winter bear, great white & dangerous. It signifies time, overfed, deathly slow. Time, king of the Land of the Silence between us. The monster stands at the edge of the winter lake. Looks out, points with trembling finger. Oh, the great white bear, the great white bear, the great white bear - Moby Bear! Part 3. But, for Monster, it's always summertime. Don't ya see he doesn't see? Through the trees, like it was snowing, there were parts of flowers blowing. Walk with me. Talk with me. Walk with me. Talk with me it's not so bad, to be with me. It's so bad to be with me. Oh, the wind, the wind was blowing. Through the leaves, time was showing. Walk with me. Talk with me. Walk with me. Talk with me It's not so bad, to be with me. It's so bad to be with me. Part 4. Don't ya see he doesn't see? Down to the lake he goes, watchin the water roll in. Down to the lake he goes - his pickup truck he's got stereo dogs in the back, and he's at the water, and the water's big. It's gray & big. He says, Big. He says, Big, don't you see how big it is? Watchin the water go in - molecules of it are so big they're bouncin off the rocks, like popcorn. You have to brush it from your hair. Oh. So, darlin, reach your hand out, and take a handful - a molecule of your own choosing, a souvenir of the day Monster walks with you. A handful of nothin slips between your fingers. And Monster says, When I'm gone, when I'm gone just don't say I never gave ya anything. And. It's not so bad, is it? It's not so bad, is it? Not so bad to be with me. Writers: Thomas-Hild-Yellin. © 1986 Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Bicycle. Under the moonlight, a woman on a bicycle floats - carefree & buoyant, balanced in the air. She drifts between the curves of a quiet street, between the banks of a slow deep stream. Under the moonlight, the night breathes and enfolds us. Its scent of warm skin is fragrant & fine. It binds us together, suspended in time, we drift with the current of a slow deep stream. Remember. Writers: Thomas-Maimone. © 1986 Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Coffee Train. It makes me desperate. It makes me weird. It makes me desperate. It makes me weird. Coffee. Coffee. Get on board - Not the Love Train. Not the Mystery Train. Not the Little Train That Thought It Could. The Coffee Train! I feel the train a-comin! I feel... Fuzzy. The coffee train doesn't stop here, does it? Oh. Writers: Thomas-Maimone-Ravenstine. © 1986 Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. My Town. All their dreams are paper crowns, scraps of which thrown in the air fall down - round the wind corner, tumble down. scatter by, fall down. My town. Shadows sweep a tumbledown, paper birds blown by the wind fall down - round the wind corner, tumble down, scatter by, fall down. My town. Birds havin a party when the sun goes down. My town. Writers: Thomas. © 1986 Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Monster Magee, King Of The Seas. Monster Magee, king of the seas. Monster Magee, riddle me-ree. Monster Magee, he's a man of mystery. "What is black & white & read all over?" "Can you tell me when a door is not a door? "ha-ha-ha! "When it's ajar!" Writers: Thomas. © 1986 Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. Monster Thinks About The Good Days. Monster thinks about the good days ahead. Nothing is guaranteed, but nowhere is it said that a fellow with shoes as big as a boat can't be bound & determined to float. And as the townspeople wave from the beach, the water pulls Monster more out of reach. Sky blue. Salmon sea. Gold's the color there's ought to be, as Monster thinks about the days he's going to see. Monster thinks about the days there's going to be. Writers: Thomas-Maimone. © 1986 Bug Music. Lyrics by David Thomas. |