we are being killed by the water
made breathless by the air
the sugar is eating our hearts
but industry forges on
in the holy name of progress

and we believe
and we don't believe
and we believe again
but the only thing we care about
we don't want to feel the pain

the whole world is scared to death
we don't want to feel the pain
and we're numb from the waste up
hyperactive down below
and the party forges on
in the name of FREEDOM
but what we're really after
is freedom from the pain

somewhere on this planet
we must hope and pray
there's a savior who will fix this mess
and we all will be behind him
we'll help him win the day
as long as we can do it
without feeling any pain

don't tell us about the world
don't challenge how we live
we don't believe our vote can matter
we are helpless babes at play
beneath the mushroom clouds
but none of that will matter
if we don't feel the pain

we'll let you save the world
we'll trust you with our lives
we'll work in your sweat houses
and collect our measely pensions
we'll feed our banks and merchant class
give alms to our politicians
we'll be the well-behaved working class
doing all your bloody chores
as long as you will promise us
we won't feel any pain

when we're born there's blood and guts
and mother's writhing pain
when our teeth come through our gums at night
we holler out in pain
we even learn to walk upright
'cause crawling is a pain
all our lives we're driven by it
from the cradle to the creamatorium
we're pushed on by the pain

everywhere we go in life
every mountain that we climb
every love we have
everyday we live
is born out of the struggle
between the joy and pain

but the joy cannot be the joy
without the pain to measure it

and if you're not feeling any pain my friend
then you might just be DEAD

gloom
gloom
gloom

send me some kind of blessing
to roust me from this gloom

nothing is making me feel better
nothing is cheering me up
nothing is tickling my fancy
and somtimes i think i'm the world
sometimes i feel like i'm the one who can fix it
but these are mighty scary times
and i'm a damn fool to believe
i can do a thing about it

and there's trouble
deep seditious trouble
more trouble than ever before

and all the bells are ringing
the air raid sirens moan
there's no more time to talk about it
there's no more time to wait

time is in our face
time is in our face
and it's not pretty

time is a jaundiced mullah
with and AK 47
and nothing left to lose

time is the cockpit
of 757 jet aircraft
coming through the office window

and what do you do
what do you do
when there's no time left

we go on eating burgers
getting drunk on Friday night
we go on smoking doobies
and burning through the tv screen
we go on pleasure seeking
and looking for sophisticated ways
to ignore what's going on

and there's trouble
not the sort of trouble
prozac can cure

and there's trouble
all the booze and drugs
won't make go away

and there's trouble
all the money in the world
will not pay for

and there's trouble
the kind of trouble
that could kill us all some day

and like is said before
send me some kind blessing
to roust me from my gloom

you told them you were the son of man
then got down and washed their feet
and to this day they do not understand

when they called you the son of god
you told them;
all of us are brothers and sisters
we all come from one father
and to this day they do not understand

you told them the kingdon is within
that the things they sought in you
could only be found inside themselves
and if they chose to serve god
they should serve their fellow human beings
and to this day they do not understand

and when they finally forsook you
when they left you dying at the stake
i'm sure you found it in yourself
to forgive what they had done
and to this day they do not understand

they do not understand
that you were just a man
gifted kind and beautiful
but nonetheless a man
and to this day
they do not understand

i see you as a poet
a dreamer and a friend
i see you kind to strangers
i see your welcome grin

i don't see you as those others do
i don't see you as a savior
and i don't think you'd want me to

i don't believe you'd judge a one of us
for anything we've done
you'd trust in our humanity
you'd let us have our fun
but most of all
i think you'd laugh
and dance
and sing out loud

i see you as a poet
i don't believe you rose again
except maybe in man's imagination
and sometimes it seems
the very ones who killed you
want to bring you back again

but as a friend i must tell you
nothing much changes in this place
and if you show your face around here
they will do the same again

the swollen sky is about to burst
the smell of sex is everywhere
but there's broken glass all along the path
that leads to your front door

there's the shelled remains of another love
where countless fires still smoulder
there is nothing left but ghosts
and regrets

and i see you quietly stealing
through the bedroom door
i know you've had your way with me
and feel that you must go

but i'm not feeling anything special
so you can hang around
there must be something deeper here
then just a one night stand

my rivers have all run their banks
my heart's too broke to fix
my body's ready but my time is short
i only have the present

and at present
the swollen sky's about the burst
and the smell of sex is everywhere

perhaps i can weed a poem from this ridge
high above the blue wind-blown lake
where spring clouds roll from the south
caught in this American wind
that races every April north to the Shuswap
it brings a California-like summer. . . eventually

perhaps i can weed a poem from these sandy kootch-grass pine hills
brown even in May when the rest of the country is a rich deep green
where the rattlesnake still coils scared of its wits
still not fully awake from winter
when the breezes burn icey from the howling north

perhaps i can weed a poem from this place
where i so long ago stopped for a few weeks
and have now returned
more out of convenience than longing
although i always said i would likely wind up here
because the weather is good and the people are friendly
except for the teenage males
who are not friendly anywhere

perhaps i can weed a poem from this town
and leave it somewhere conspicuous
for the locals to read and consider
and hopefully adopt to some specific memory
they have of the life they've lived
in this big mountain valley

pehaps i can weed a poem from this place
we'll see

i used to dream of velvet nights
beneath the silky moon
making love to goddesses
until dawn

now i long for a quiet place
with some earthy woman
who wants to feel the wind in her hair
and the ground beneath her feet

all those mad sky high dreams ever did
was leave me feeling unworthy
all those magnificent ideals
just left me lonely. . .

most give their lives to simple comforts
i'm begining to understand their wisdom

i let the sun make love to me this morning
for three torrid hours she caressed
and fondled and teased me
she kissed me where i have not been kissed
in a very long long time

i felt her soft hand in my hair
tasted summer on her tongue
my fingers probed her hot south wind
my nostrils filled
with her warm wet pollen

i made love with the sun this morning
and when the two of us were spent
she went back behind her clouded curtains
and i went shopping for something to eat

good sex always leaves me hungry

i want to take you
to kiss you in places you never knew existed
i want to wrap my tongue around you
and sing you to the world

i want simple words and easy grammar
i want turns of phrase and subtle sliding rythms
i want the love song that's not been sung before
to echo in the canyon of your thighs
and rush like some fast river

i want to tumble down in you
until i lose my way
i want to forget who i have been
and be someone beautiful for a change

i want to take you
to kiss you in places you never knew existed
to love you with giant leaps of faith
and trust you with my poetry

i want to take you
anywhere
but here
apart

i digress into a strange tongue
and speak only to myself
as autumn nips at my fine blond hair
with lines of silver frost

i did not know i'd live this long
it comes as quite a shock
i've always been told i was special
special didn't mean what i thought

now i'm something different
but only because
everyone else
is pretty much the same

i live beyond the law
i live outside the box
and in today's world
that's totally insane

so i am your lunatic poet
out here on the ledge threatening to fly
somehow knowing i won't be allowed the thrill
i'll be caught up in time

and muscled down to some quiet cell
with a tv for distraction
where i'll digress into a strange tongue
and speak only to myself

The Frog wants to kiss the Princess.
But the Princess is appalled.
And the Frog thinks he's a Prince.
But the Princess doesn't think so.
And the Frog is a Prince.
But the Princess just can't see it.
And the Princess thinks she's not a Princess.
But the Prince knows she's no Frog.
But the Frog is still a Frog to the Princess.
So the Prince is a Frog.
And the Prince is quite depressed.
Because he doesn't want to be a Frog,
And the Frog is never gonna stop wanting to kiss the Princess.
Beause kissing a Princess makes the Frog a Prince.
And if the Princess doesn't soon wake up.
She'll become the Frog.
And then the Frog won't look so bad.
But by then the Frog who really is a Prince
Will actually be a Prince.
And no Prince is going to kiss a Frog.
So the Frog ain't gonna get kissed no how.
And neither will the Prince.
Nor will the Princess.

And there really is only one solution
to this whole rotten dilema,

SOMEBODY KISS THAT DAMN FROG!!!

summer's shoes run fleet and fast
down paths of whim and fortune
they sometimes stumble
they often fly
and they're gone before you know it