Fort Hood

My vote’s a bet in a football pool
5 on the red, 6 on the blue
Wake up, fool, there’s no time for a shouting match

I smell blood and there’s no blood around
Blanked-out eyes and a blanked-out sound
I see them coming back, motionless in an airport lounge

Let the sun shine in
Let the sun shine in
The sun shine in

You should be getting stoned with a prom dress girl
You should still believe in an endless world
You should blast Young Jeezy with your friends in a parking lot

Let the sun shine in
Let the sun shine in
The sun shine in

Let the sun shine in
Let the sun shine in
The sun shine in

– Mike Doughty, Golden Delicious

Indian Summer

What is that cheerful sound?
Rain falling on the ground
We’ll wear a jolly crown
Buckle up, we’re wayward bound
We’ll come back for Indian Summer
We’ll come back for Indian Summer
We’ll come back for Indian Summer
And go our separate ways

Motorbike to cemetery
Picnic on wild berries
French toast with molasses
Croquet and Baked Alaskas
We’ll come back for Indian Summer
We’ll come back for Indian Summer
We’ll come back for Indian Summer
Cover me with rain

– The Beat Happening

Coney Island

I’m going to Coney Island to have myself a dog
And reminisce why I still hate it here
It’s all these people with their cotton candy eyes
It’s so sweet now put the train in gear

…

The ground is swallowing my options for release
And if it rains they might just disappear
I counted 27 birds up there today
I’m thinking that’s why I still love it here
I’m thinking that’s why I still love it here.

– Good Old War

“Sweet Baby James”

There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range.
His horse and his cattle are his only companions.
He works in the saddle and he sleeps in the canyons;
Waiting for summer, his pastures to change.

And as the moon rises, he sits by his fire,
Thinking about women and glasses of beer.
And closing his eyes as the doggies retire,
He sings out a song which is soft but it’s clear;
As if maybe someone could hear.

Goodnight, you moonlight ladies.
Rockabye, sweet baby James.
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose,
Won’t you let me go down in my dreams,
And rockabye sweet baby James.

Now the first of December was covered with snow,
And so was the Turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston.
Lord, the Berkshires seemed dream-like on account of that frosting,
With ten miles behind me, and ten thousand more to go.

There’s a song that they sing when they take to the highway,
A song that they sing when they take to the sea.
A song that they sing of their home in the sky.
Maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep;
But singing works just fine for me.

So goodnight, you moonlight ladies.
Rockabye, sweet baby James.
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose,
Won’t you let me go down in my dreams,
And rockabye sweet baby James.

– James Taylor, Sweet Baby James

“Please Please Please”

Please please please,
No more melodies.
They lack impact, they’re petty,
They’ve been made up already.

Please please please,
No more maladies.
I’m so tired of crying,
You’d think I was a siren.
But me and everybody’s on the sad same team
And you can hear our sad brains screaming,

“Give us something familiar.
Something similar.
To what we know already,
That will keep us steady,
Steady,
Steady going nowhere.”

Please please please,
No apologies.
At best they buy you time
Until you next step out of line.

Please please please,
No more remedies.
My method is uncertain;
It’s a mess but it’s working.
And maybe if you tried it out
You won’t like it when you’re crying out,

“Give us something familiar.
Something similar.
To what we know already,
That will keep us steady,
Steady, steady,
Steady going nowhere.”

– Fiona Apple, Extrodinary Machine