Depressing Guitar Songs, Etc.
Westminster
She has pink barrettes and glitter sprinkled in her hair
Her creditors phone the office and I tell them she's not there
She has pictures of angels and poems in praise of God
Sunsets and rainbows stapled to her pod
She sends emails about friendship and little girls with cancer
And I start to reply to them but then delete my answer
One day you'll be rewarded
For all of your kindness
One day you'll be escorted
Delivered from blindness
She's got a son and a daughter, ages six and eight
The father off in County, but she ain't gonna wait
He was hanging out at the Block, just outside the Gap and
He didn't shoot no one but just was in the wrong place when it happened
She's too young to be a mother, too sad to be a spinster
She still lives with her own mom way up in Westminster
There with Mom's boyfriend, her two kids and her sister
But she's looking for her own place since the bastard tried to kiss her
One day you'll be rewarded
For all of your kindness
One day you'll be escorted
Delivered from blindness
One day you'll be afforded
Golden sunset skies
One day you'll be supported
By wishes prayers & lies
Christina Aguilera called the office today for Josephine. Of course, it wasn't the Christina Aguilera, but I guess this Christina was recently married, so Jo didn't recognize her name at first. I answered and put Ms. Aguilera on hold to tell Jo. Jo was all like, "Nah-ah, get outta here!"
"No really; that's what she said: Christina Aguilera. Think of the dinner reservations you could get with a name like that: Do you realize who I am?"
But it was nothing so glamorous. Christina called to tell Jo about a wake tonight for an eighteen-year-old girl she thought Jo knew as well. The girl had been on the news for being stabbed to death with a pair of scissors by another high school girl.
Josephine often forwards emails about friendship and Jesus to me and to all the other girls in the office. When she goes on her break, she says she has to go study, and takes her Bible with her to the lounge. She must be about twenty-four, but she looks even younger than that. She has a habit of giggling often and with little provocation. She has a daughter who is six and a son who is eight. She is worried her son will turn out like his father. She can't control him, and sent them both to Catholic school until she couldn't afford it. Sometimes Jo's creditors call the office. Sometimes Jo tells me to tell them she's not there. Jo and her kids live with Jo's sister and mother at her mother's boyfriend's house.
Jo's mother's name is Johanna. Johanna calls often, and is always sweet, like her daughter. She knows me by my voice and tells me what she or her dogs are doing if Jo isn't around to take the call. She has been very excited lately because she finally has a job at Wal-Mart.
Jo and her sister have been trying to move for a long time; they've been trying to take Johanna too. Johanna's boyfriend has said lurid things about and even to Josephine. He had an episode where he wrote threatening messages on the wall in red lipstick. He was 5150'd, hospitalized against his will. But they discharged him the next day.
Jo's former boyfriend, for whom their son is named, is in prison now and will be for a long time to come. Her son and his father are both named Angelo. Sometimes she confuses me when she tells me these stories because I am not sure which Angelo she is talking about.
Today, when she got the call, Josephine said that the girl that was stabbed was a friend of Angelo's sister, who was the one who just called. Angelo's brother was shot to death in a drive by. After Angelo's brother died, Angelo was put in jail.
"He didn't kill anyone?" I whispered.
She said no, that he was just with some people when they beat somebody up, but it was his third strike. Angelo's dad wanted to do anything he could to save his last son, Angelo's other brother. After the brother got out of jail, Angelo's dad gave the brother a room in Anaheim Hills and a car to go places. He told him, I don't care if you don't want to work, just please stay off the junk. Of course, with nothing else to do, he went too back to the streets and back to the jail.
It is a good thing Jo has Jesus. She has told me about the bullets in the barrio, about covering her babies' heads with her body. I reply to her emails. I tell her that some day she will be rewarded rather than punished for her kindness, but I know that I too, like so many others, am only lying to her.
Reasons
Because the river's flowing,
Because the grass is growing,
Because the grass will grow some more,
Because the sun is shining,
Because the world's not dying,
Because it's never died before,
Because the breeze is blowing,
Because of seeds were sowing,
Although I've never planted one,
Because we had an Earth Day,
A doomsday, death and birthday,
Because Earth Day was so much fun,
We are young;
We are numb;
We are young;
We are deaf and dumb.
Because the music's playing,
Because of what I'm saying,
Because of all the true cliches,
Because I drive a car
And play with my guitar,
'Cause rock 'n' roll is here to stay,
We are young;
We are numb;
We are young;
We are deaf and dumb.
Because we'll won the war,
And then we'll win some more,
Because the world's being set free,
We're on the road to victory;
We're recycling old history,
'Cause there's no better way to be.
We are old,
So we're told.
In the fold,
Our blood runs cold.
The sun shines down on the earth so much plainer now,
Without the towers or the ozone layer now,
So we drive down to the strip mall store for a going out of existence sale,
Buy ourselves a bag of bones and sell the shell of a snail.
We are the last rock 'n' roll generation,
Soaking up the sunset of civilization.
We like our martinis shaken, not stirred.
We are the last rock 'n' roll generation,
Basking in the twilight of civilization.
We like our minds unshaken and undisturbed.
Options
You can lead or you can follow;
Be solid or be hollow.
You can melt below the belt
Or be burnin'.
You can lead or you can follow.
You can dine on yellow marrow;
Drink blood and beer and tears
And yellow urine.
You can lead or you can follow.
You can walk or you can wallow.
You can be pedestrian
Or be a trucker.
You can lead or you can follow.
You can suck and you can swallow.
You can suck and be @#$%ed
Or be a @#$%er.
You can lead or you can follow;
Be Daphne or Apollo.
You can be a tree like me,
But you can't leave.
You can follow or you can lead.
You can starve or you can feed.
You can plant a sunflower seed,
Or you can try.
You can follow or you can lead.
You can have or you can need.
You can cut and you can bleed,
And you can die.
Mrs. Bleedingheart
She had a father who was baron of a barren industry
With stock in Dow Chemical,Dupont and NBC.
She was drunk for the first time on champagne at thirty-three,
And after the reception, she lost her virginity.
And she bled upon the bedspread and her loins began to ache,
And a little birth told her that she'd made a big mistake
And I'm sorry, Mrs. Bleedingheart.
I don't know what to do for you.
Yes, I'm sorry, Mrs. Bleedingheart,
If the sky just isn't blue for you.
Now she's got two teenage daughters, both with hair of gold.
The oldest says, "I'm Lesbian, but Daddy can't be told."
She's got a Volvo with a Beyond War sticker on the back,
An Environmental Options Safeway-sanctioned grocery sack,
A husband with his hands in politics and real estate,
With a Porsche and a mistress and a locked wrought iron gate,
Therapy bills and sleeping pills and visits to her priest,
Support groups for white women who are married to the Beast.
And I'm sorry, Mrs. Bleedingheart.
I don't know what to do for you.
Yes, I'm sorry, Mrs. Bleedingheart,
If the sky just isn't blue for you
Today
Or tomorow,
For joy
Or for sorrow,
For better
Or for worse,
There's a Gold Card in your purse.
Lib
She used to think she didn't enjoy sex.
She used to think she didn't enjoy checks.
But now she's a dominatrix in padded shoulders,
Walkin' down Wall Street with files and folders.
And she used to be so timid in school.
She used to be every boy's toy and tool.
But now she's got the money to be cool.
She's a dominatrix in padded shoulders,
Walkin' down Wall street with files and folders.
And they call it liberation, all this subjugation.
They call it equality, or the closest guess.
We all call it freedom, we have our wants and we feed them.
But the only real liberty is the freedom to oppress.
With a bankroll that's a spank of control on the ass
From our lass clad in leather brief case lace.
She's a dominatrix in a leather suit skirt,
Marchin' down Market Street, intent and bent to hurt.
And they call it liberation, all this subjugation.
They call it equality, or the closest guess.
We all call it freedom, we have our wants and we feed them.
But the only real liberty is the freedom to oppress.
Caged Cowboy
Don't smoke in bars
Don't drink in cars
Don't think and jive
Do just enough
Of the good stuff
To look alive
Don't dish no dirt
Don't chase no skirt
Don't grab no ass
Just keep it clean
Don't be too mean
And hide your flask
Don't rock the boat
Don't get my goat
Don't even ask
Just mind your screen
And look serene
And do your tasks
Just tend your chores
Like all the whores
Who sing sad song
What doesn't kill
A cowboy's will
Will make him strong
Third World Order (For the Pickin Trix)
The world is getting smaller.
It makes me wanna holler,
"We're all in the third world now."
We got no iron curtain,
But things are more uncertain.
We're all in the third world now.
When that Berlin Wall came down,
We all went to town;
Traded in our swords and our ploughs
For a bag of dust and silicon,
But now it seems that they're all gone.
We're all in the third world now.
We can't elect our leaders
There's more starvers than feeders.
We're all in the third world now.
We're tightening up our borders.
We're just following orders.
We're all in the Fourth Reich now.
When that Berlin Wall came down,
We all went to town;
Singing to a jubilant sound.
But now the strains have given way
To yearning for a better day.
We're all in the third world now.
We built us two towers
To demonstrate our powers
With the bones and moans of the poor.
And when they came and smote them down
No one here in Babylon
Thought it was the fault of our sweet Whore.
With our candles burnt down,
Our sorrow unbound,
We sing for two worlds unwound,
And still the beat remains the same.
We're tired of this tried refrain:
We're all in the third world now.
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