El Oso

El Oso – Lyrics


All lyrics received directly from the band and
are by M. Doughty unless otherwise noted. Publishedby Our
Pal Dolores/WB unless otherwise noted


Rolling

I’m rolling. I’ve got to get a new balm. I’ve got to get
a tight tension on. I’ve got to slip it up before the rush
gets gone. I’ve got to feel it with the hot mind on. I’m
rolling. Hey Norman, was it thrown with a broken arm? Bottle
it up, to keep it warm. I’m rolling. I know you got it but
you got to go; I’m gonna get into the batter so the mix
might glow. I hate to do it, but I did it though; I’m gonna
bite into the body like the risk is no risk. I got the
souped-up car and what you call tripping on the boom-bap
etymological. I ride the fader and I ride it low; I’m gonna
slip into the field like Han Solo. I’m rolling. One, two,
into the amplifier, the electrified two, into the amplifier,
and you got to get to, into the amplifier, one-two into the
amplifier. I’m rolling.


Misinformed

His eyes go funny, you can’t place why. All dolled up in
bellhop drag.

It is like a burden to the beat, to the long gone.

I was once misinformed about your intentions.

Were you right to burn the rock star? Were you right to
drop the roster?

One dollar bill, one dollar bill. Nah nah nah.


Circles

When you were languishing in rooms I built to foul you
in. And when the wind set down in funnel form and pulled you
in.

I don’t need to walk around in circles.

And when the ghostly dust of violence traces everything.
And when the gas is drained, just wreck it, you insured the
thing.

But I can’t sigh now that you made the move; it has gone
and gone to dogs; lay down on the floor. For the right price
I can get everything; slip into the car; go driving to the
farthest star.


Blame

Blame

Is the cure

Cure anything

Throw the rudder down

Throw the rudder down

Broad

Latitude

Broad latitude

Throw the rudder down

Throw the rudder down


St. Louise is Listening

ST. LOUISE IS LISTENING.

I stopped the thought before its drip became insistent. I
rubbed it out and loved the spot where it was missing. She’s
widely known, the only maquereau that pays her taxes. I got
to box her for the money.

You don’t use words like that–St. Louise is
listening.

You rang the Eskimo to meet you at the station. Oh he’s
like milk to you, half-Swedish and half-Asian. And your
aphasia strikes a bargain with the barter yardie. I got to
box you for the money.

I could be your baby-doll. I could be your doll, baby. I
could be the thing you want. I could do it all for you.

Let me get up on it. Let me. Let me.


Maybe I’ll Come Down

Dumb dumb dumb bah did uh dumb.

I need time to scrounge the rent. Need time to
contemplate the accident. I got to drag my ass to Now. How
did I come to stop here? And oh I knew the gas was gone, but
I had to rev the motor. Pull back the hand you might get it
cut off in the rotor.

Maybe I’ll come down.

She’s on Loretta’s turf. She’s on Loretta’s side. She’s
in a better state. She feels a better fire. And oh I dreamed
a great parade, shooting all the guns in Brooklyn. The man
who had a spare held out two and then you took one.

Freeze or burn; all else is only icing. Pack your bags,
assman!


Houston

I met a girl on rollerskates. She had a spare bag. She
had lost some weight. Where I used to work, she was a
waitress. She proposed a trade. It was generous.

She’s gone to Houston, feel like I’m floating in a warm
sea. And if she finds out when she comes back, I know that
she will leave me.

Oh I heard a sign–it was a dull crack. It was a clock
hand. It was a snapping back. Oh it wasn’t hers–it was the
dope’s kiss. I’ll take the blame upon my shoulder; I just
love to feel like this.

Roller boogie, motherfucker.


$300

Lifting me up like a garage door; I need to feel it when
the drug starts coming on. I know you Lord are a jealous
lord. I know the tablet is your competition.

And I need for you to be reasonable.

How much? She said, For three hundred dollars, I’ll do
it.

Beating me down just like a rain storm. I need to feel it
when the rain starts coming on. I know the skin is a jealous
skin. I know the sky it is its competition.


Fully Retractable

Shooed out like a house fly

This house was half my mind

I don’t dispute the doubts you’ve outlined

But it’s my right to waste your time

These things

May come to be

and these things

won’t kill me

and these things

it stands to reason

these things

please tell me

throw out the la-la by the busload

Match the photo to the description

I do indeed and shall continue

Dispatch the shiftless man to points beyond

and spieling

so ceaselessly

is my grief

please spare me

your feelings

the spattering

it bores me

don’t test me

and half-masted

bass boosted

sling-backed

fully retractable

Burned in on the 8th of May

She was spectacular

I walk the halfmoon by the busstop

sliding cross the street to her


Monster Man

Stop hitching with the monster man, it was a bad plan,
but I had to get to town. Unbitten, but the way I found it
was a hand came down and pow! I got illuminated.

That’s why I have got my mind in my own.

Hand over the wave. Hand over the water. The realest of
the real.

It’s like the burnout said: phenomenon.

To the ruder bar in a Buddha-plump van. It was a stamped
can. It was a clamor understanding, and all you people
jumping but we raised the bar. You’re dumber than a box of
rocks. Give up, star.

The inscrutable. The irrefutable. The undisputed.

Makes me go on a dig.


Pensacola

Oh pride is not a sin, and that’s why I have gone on down
to Wal-Mart with my checkbook just to get you some.

Like waves in which you drown me, shouting.

I know you must’ve realized by now.

And by the lawnchairs there, next to the racks of guns,
your self-esteem is waiting, canned up in aluminum.


I Miss The Girl

Daughter to the pop veneer. Shining like a new mint
quarter. Shining like the Franklin Mint. Seedy like the
lampshade quarter. Rolling with the dopes you know. Rolling
with the wrong gun on you. Going down to Baltimore. Going in
an off-white Honda. Oh I miss the girl, miss the girl, miss
the girl, I want to give myself to water. Speeding to the
rupture line. Rat-a-tatting boombox moocher. Darling with
the boop shuh-nai. Rat-a-tatting lose your future.

I dream that she aims to be the bloom upon my misery.

She rocks mop style, she needs the rest.

And I know it’s not the same thing


So Far I Have Not Found The Science

I don’t mind worry following me like a dinosaur. I don’t
fear I am descending into the molten core. So far, I have
not found the science, but the numbers keep on circling
me.

I’m gonna give you most of mine–I’m gonna give it if I
don’t slip you.


The Incubent

New York, New York, I won’t go back–indelible reminder
of the steel I lack. I gave you seven years, what did you
give me back? A jaw-grind, disposition to a panic
attack.

On this side, the incumbent. And who quoth: There’s only
one everything. Red sucker mouth.

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