Pagan shutters described at shrine
dark stems large elephantine
serpent seasnake zebra
up love and deliver your good speech

Of youth and perfect skin

skygazing free of sin
clipped at the hip peglegged and cracked
expressing trivial concern
and then I long .

Iím the frequent weaver who burns

Shaft birth pride of pity
going back from country to city
come home now to surround you

Youíve no more to learn
who do you think you are?

Iím the frequent weaver who burns


When she needs a public apology
silence will do
up in an ugly room everybody dances

Soul train college policeman

Man, itís the age stars and stripes
finger to the room
baby stay shaking
laughing and baking
post Christmas cupcake hand-grenades

Soul train college policeman



He who shits out magic may shine
for the good of a customs and calling
call him Max
send him a fax
charge him no tax

Pop Zeus

He who gives love to angry children
kids on the skid with baggy trousers
call him zerman find him a helmet
He will come crashing

Pop Zeus

Electric Newspaper Boy!


Be drawn to whatís wrong and believe everyone
go ahead touch your nose & off you go up and run

And now comes yet another
the next dose of real freedom
I guess the wait is over
you sat here long enough
your personal triumph is coming up

Piss away again throwing caution to the wind
telling lies to friends

Be strong in your aim map your course and set sail
but know well life is quick and very slick
slick as snails

I contemplate an ocean
at rest or still in motion
a testimonial quest
gorilla of your dreams
and speedy exit schemes
in "Quips for Queens"

The imprint where you sat
dig the ripples caused by that
I can ride them cut
out into the sea where the others cannot be
you keep sliding out
crafted, launched and steered
to where all systems are cleared
youíll be hiding out


Do something real
sidewalks chasing citizens racing
do something real
bloodhounds closing in on opposing men
do something real
crows like rats like cats on vacation
do something real
youíve been scrapped Iím trapped at the station
small claims courts community snorts

Itís fine when itís so concealed
extra special happiness
defined by an endless field of nothing real
do some thing real
crap stripe exits examiner expects it
do something real
plot of rockets holy ghost markets
small claims courts...

Youíll die or you wonít
you try or you donít
do something real


I canít know the song of the south
when my needle points north.
the blue south elegant with lovely lake
eyes in a smiling river on fire look at me

Ape, the tailor whose fine linens he knows
makes a man out of safety pins
proud as an Indian
I figure in future years Iíll be stained by the tears
of desperate clinging

Miracle girls commercially perfect
excel at Port Authority
shall I run out to meet your hopes
of liquor, tobacco & chocolate?
up on chalkleg mirror mountain
subtle and juicy


Thick miracles evaporate fast
this is the land of soft smoke
clunkersí dealers up the offer
up on supergroove highway
maximum reality vs. fondío Rhonda
curlers, shirts and grasshopper skirts
bedazzled at the end of a popular rope
year out clear out

Thick miracles evaporate fast
this is the land of soft smoke


I listen to your conventional message
same things allure me assure me
Iím not getting in or through
going nowhere faster than most

Thatís the way the eyecrust crumbles
the everlasting holyman stumbles
a thread of resistance contains me
your unwanted assistance often restrains me


I crept into a box of mesmerizing trinkets
and I probably shouldnít think it
and I donít so now I do

A panoramic expo
hey, give me a ballpark estimate
I donít drive a good car or a bargain
so now I do

Hereís what I have done for you
a life on the run
a foxhole and a gun
a roof that blocks out the view
I never had one
I didnít want one
and I donít so now I do


Blonde machine in yellow spacecar
zip your legs in smooth rubber
You pass me and harass me
#1 is on the run

I saw you outta my cave
you didnít see me
you never see me

Ugliest affairs in print
jumbled societiesí children
whereíd you pop in?

Blonde machine....

All the glands that you shoot through
tight globes
international she goes out
fresh from the sweat factory Iím in love tonight -
perhaps weíll be best friends for a week



I get rid of you with everything I do
I get rid of you x2
youíre my kind of woman
tell me what to do

And I will not pretend to be
extending a hand that holds the key
unlocking a plan that can consider you
and you are ill prepared to fight
living in a world of soft and white
in air conditioned battle zones
I pity you

And from here to you
Iím seeing souls in collision
who can they be?
with eyes in all directions
but why canít they see?

That the site of you
is starting up a war inside of me
the sight of you
is building up a war inside of me

You're my kind of woman
I get rid of you


Trapped inside a diamond we look outside
at everything and we forget
life is beautiful

Dragstrips out to seahunts
race to catch a wave or a falling star
life is beautiful

Knock down all the houses
pull up all the trees
make a wish life is beautiful


I like it in their it looks good
when Iím at home I love you good
when away even more
itís good to care for
dreams like strings in cold trees
iceberg heads and alien flavors
this being a giftshop
an electronics tent sale
over here in seats folded warmly

I like it out there the timeclock kills
must be the iron wills
of future kings who ride their ships
through fast atmospheres


Through driving
often you come along
where folks form focus and meet
when you blink and meet me

Donít stop coming
Iíll never stop drumming
my thumbs on your dashboard

The medium sized world is making a comeback
the world at large is drowning
crawling up and out forever

Is it your number?
or is it you donít belong
well, when black clouds hover so low
we will rise to kiss you

Donít stop blushing
gushing in buckets of color


Well this thing changes
look over a job well done
spies in the hangar
a computerís belly of foreign parts

And my unit moves

So this points cut a villain
everything in perfect order
Iíve not snitched out the banger
narcoleptic cliff hanger
now that itís safe

And my unit moves

All songs written by Robert Pollard except - Pop Zeus, Port Authority , Larger Massachusetts & Messiahs written by Robert Pollard & Doug Gillard