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Dave Easley Lyrics (As many as will fit on this site.)
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For more lyrics: hear1
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Ollie
Ollie came to me as I was riding to the new Jerusalem.
He had a gun barrel in his mouth, a comic book in his hand.
He was thinking that the gun might really come to be of some use to him.
You know he once obeyed the law yet it left him nowhere to stand.
When Ollie came to me he was on a horse
That was stolen from a painting at the Rue de la Course.
He tipped the man a quarter and he galloped off,
A certified health nut with a smoker's cough.
Saner thoughts evade me as I contemplate my debtor's prison cell.
I can't even remember when I was doing well.
I grabbed the gun from Ollie, I said, "Son, why don't you hand that gun over here?"
I shot three parking meters, two French Poodles and a CD by Brittney Spears.
Ollie tried to tell me where the pigeons sit
When all their favorite statues are covered with shit.
Joggers stop to tell me that I'm in the way
While Ollie's to excited to enjoy the day.
Ollie was waiting for the day when I'd agree to join him in his foolish pranks.
He said, "Finish all your thankless work and I will just be waiting here
Annoying the police until they come after me in Sherman tanks,
March me off in leg-irons, singing like a gondolier."
When Ollie left this world he was whistling a tune
That was stolen from the juke box at the Horny Goat Saloon.
He left in better spirits than he ever stayed.
He even tipped his hat to a meter maid.
Ollie came to me as I was riding through the new Jerusalem.
He said, "Thanks for saving my life but I went ahead and caught the Plague."
And, all the women who thought he was wierd, now their saying how they'd grown so used to him.
And all the cops are on trial and Ollie's comic book's exhibit A.
Ollie tries to tell me where the pigeons sit
When all their favorite statues are covered with shit.
Joggers stop to tell me that I'm in the way
While Ollie's too excited to enjoy the day.
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Train Bound Away
When the corn shone wet like silver, in the summer, high as trains
I drank my corn from laughing jars and laughed into the rain,
Tried to catch my dreams on weighted lines that hung from me like vines,
But, when they came to me in stolen scenes, I never knew the lines.
And when I played the fight scenes with the wrath of Citizen Kane
I never knew each year would bound away like a hobo on a train
Like a hobo on a train.
When the air was wet with laughter and the sky was ripe with rain,
Our minds as high as the summer clouds, we laughed at them out loud,
Climbed onto the railroad bed and dared the lightning sky,
Danced in circles never knowing the wild wind would ever die.
We watched the weary engineer who pulled the years a rolling by
As if their freight was just an eighth note that could float up to the sky
And, trailing close behind, were all the years that yet remained,
And soon would bound away, like a hobo on a train,
Like a hobo on a train.
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Being A Man
The peal of my soul is the stuff of exhilarance.
Under layers of it you'll find the gentler flavors.
And the stiff rod of life, born of ardent rustlings of unconcious wind
Is to spin your womb into life again
So life shall win and win
Until the end.
The singing of a rock bearing soul will find your ears I know
Asking, "What is life but to want more, but to want more?"
If the Dutch Masters painted these days
You'd see a human heart hidden in a maze,
A witch doctor slipping out of phase
Trying to find it.
And if they captured the essence of these times
The portrait would be drawn in worry lines
It's shadows as hard to define
As being a man
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Two Nightmares
Four iceblock oceans from a big, red summertime,
Three riders of the Tikemondoua
When the world was just barely mine,
When the world was just barely mine,
Two like Hansel with his crumbs now eaten,
One dead like winter at the edge of the quiet night
When the world was broken by the bells of Christmas
And my hound would shiver at the prince of moontime,
Hollow out the night with his wolfen whine,
Hollow out the night with his wolfen whine.
I was depressed enough to state, "Here he is" with great sarcasm
Whenever I saw myself anywhere
And mean enough to respond in kind.
One night, when their stride was broken,
Two mares of the Tikemondoua broke away
Three miles from nowhere and, if their thoughts were spoken,
"For what?" would be what they would say.
Envy him, the saddest flailer of the broken fortune wheel,
Grand beginner of endless stories
And they all started with the big bang catyclysm.
Three anthropologists and a priest and a rabbi
Went into a bar where the horses were tied.
All sat waiting for the punch-line to be delivered
Till, one by one, they all died
And my hound would shiver at the prince of moontime...etc.
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The Blind Engineer
There's a blind engineer on the nightmare train
As we roll in the night through the fog and the rain.
You know, if not for my fear, you know I'd never complain
About the reckless driving of the blind engineer
But there's another problem: It seems he just can't hear
Or he'd know that some will die beneath the rumblin' steel.
Though your daughter might be looking at the on-coming wheels,
The blind engineer doesn't care how she feels.
I saw a woman on the nightmare train.
Her tears wouldn't stop for anything.
Anna became a sad statistic last year
As a victim of the crime that women most fear.
Now the child of the aggressor is under her loving care
And the spectre of her mis-fortune haunts her everywhere
And the orphanage moves up from the back of her mind
But she knows her child would stay there for a long long time.
I saw a woman...
Knowing well it won't relieve the hurt she feels inside,
Karen Bell recounts the story of how her young girl died.
You see, the government says a mom must know if her daughter's in the family way
Aparently young Becky didn't see it that way.
Though you may know the Bible like the back of your hand
And have the state militia at your comand,
You'll never know what Becky felt in her heart inside
As she caught the nightmare train for her last lonely ride.
I saw a woman...
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Straw Mats
Someone swam in the stupider thoughts of man
And hugged them like a cloak around his fear of dying,
his fear of dying.
And one glorified the stupider thoughts of man
And with them fenced the ground around his fear of being,
his fear of being.
One sought the sweeter thoughts of human kind,
Like a leaf toward the light
And knew the more he didn't find,
The sadder yet to die.
Faster than purple is how I'd describe
The life of a scribe of thoughts in the air
In ultra-violet moods.
Who loves life loves the voices of the old people
And the prances of cats,
And the air around twilight,
And to lie on stra mats
In wind and stars.
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The Date and the Hour
I've been sitting in my cell for a lonesome stretch of time.
Now and then I think I hear my Daddy callin', not on a telephone line.
No one alive believes my story. That seals my fate.
So I'm bound to meet my Daddy. I already know the date.
I've got an hour ever day to feel the sun upon my face.
I know no man alive would want to be in my place.
Yes, the walls are high, razor wire on top.
I already know the hour my heart will stop.
I've been dreaming throught the night of your lovin' arms so warm.
I picked you up where high winds stormed, took you down where dreams are born.
Though I know deep down I won't see you no more.
I hear it in the echo every time they slam my door.
I've got an hour every day...
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Wheat Man of the Summer Rains
Wheat men brave the wind across the plains,
Stand in the mud of the summer rains and don't complain
To be the straw in Cinderella's broom.
Why do we find the end of the fiber of life
in a batter-whipped slice of slow armagedon?
I spent winters in the ice but didn't see the brown mud in May
When the wandering boots of my younger soul were thick with it.
I dropped in a tank seven fish from my seven seas
Who ate each other with grave abandon till none were left
Save the one on the left
Who fixed me with a stony gaze as if it knew my secret name,
Wheat Man of the Summer Rains.
Wheat men dressed in golden fur
Their Mother Nature's rounded breasts.
With wild and whipping winds astir
I'd run until my heaving chest
Would make me stop to rest
And when the first few tentative droplets fell,
I'd softly tell my secret name,
Wheat Man of the Summer Rains
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Wandering Jew
Back of her house around her deep, deep well
"If I die young", she kept saying, "would you remember me well
Like Black Orpheus strewn in his death colors on the cliffside?"
"Kiss me like a weeping willow", she cried
In the morning dew.
"I'll cover you like wandering jew", said I
"See the river took my flowers across the plains
And down in your deep, deep well sing the echoes of some lusty dream you had.
Bellflowers and Spiderworts formed your impromptu bed
In a sinuous world that turned like a hurricane in your woman-child eyes."
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My Writing Links
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