Lyrics – Napalm & Nitrogen

1. Elk Rock Island

We grew up in cellophane, neon cereals, tanning cathode rays
We were rinsed in pesticide, bleached with aspartame, antiseptic play

You could tell from our soft feet
We were strangers to the land
And you could tell from our clean clothes that we were petrified of dirt and plants and sand

Take me out to the forest
Roll me in the soil, let me smell the earth
Paint my face with berries
Stuff them in my mouth ’til my stomach bursts

And when the brambles shred my skin
I bleed a red that shows the life within
And the blackberry stains on my hands
Are not from a lab, no they come from the land

We are flailing in these waves: radio and sound, riptide gamma rays
Coughing up zeroes and ones, gurgling through machines, ‘lectronic embrace

Take me down to the river
Dunk me underneath, let me taste the clay
We’ll lose our shoes in the mudflats
Seeping through our toes, grabbing at our legs

When the brambles shred my skin
I bleed a red that shows the life within
And the blackberry stains on my hands
Don’t come from an ad, no they come from the land

Our kids stumble through the haze, carbon thunderheads, toasting UV rays
They know a world concrete and gray, free from any green, sanitized and paved
So each morning when you rise, rub your hands against the dirt
And for that day, my child, you’ll shed your fear of the earth

And when the brambles shred your skin
You’ll bleed a red that shows the life within
And the blackberry stains on your hands
Are not from a lab, no they come from the land

I woke up on Cannon Beach, salt upon my face, seaweed in my hands
Waves kept washing over me, urging I come home, come home to the land

We come from the land
We come from the land

2. Five Year Plan

It seems the longer I’m alive
The more afraid I am to die
The more I do the less I think
That I’ve accomplished anything
I make a plan with lots of lists
And write them down with busted wrists
It makes the words so hard to read
Can’t tell what any of it means

This house could really use some heat
Just start a fire with my degree

I have an unproductive mind
That’s why I pay it overtime
The day shift cannot get it right
And so it’s working through the night
I groan and mutter in my sleep
The graveyard shift’s clearing debris
But I can’t remember any dreams
I can’t remember anything

We need more wood for the fireplace
Just use this stack of resumes

When we were kids I never had a dream
So everybody asked
What do you wanna be
What do you wanna be
What are you gonna be?

I have so many things to say
But all these words get in the way
I talk so much my speeches blur
I sing so hard my vision slurs
The future’s losing all its shape

I’m deaf from hearing my own voice
Proclaiming that I’ll make a choice
My head’s a bucket full of steam
I don’t have any fucking dreams
I don’t have any fucking dreams

3. Hobo Chili

There’s a backyard show where everybody goes ‘cause everybody knows at this masquerade
They wear strange costumes and heave water balloons and one kid’s dressed up like a deviled egg
That’s when I say, “ What’s this?  There’s something that I’ve missed there ain’t nothing like this back in Upstate”
But “When in Louisville,” they say, “join the crazy ballet”
So with blazing waterguns I join the fray

Yes I learned on that day what local flavor means
With a dinner made from dumpsters on Kentucky streets
You won’t learn anything tied up in restaurant chains
Why bother traveling if it all just tastes the same?

On the guidebook page a travel-weary sage is sharing the best secrets from her latest trek
Then the tourists come and money builds it up and pretty soon the place is just a wreck
But when I hit the road I want pie a la mode from a café where they don’t wear uniforms
Where the salt of the earth season their hometown turf with art that you can’t find in any store

Yes I know there’s nothing new out on the interstate
And a journey’s pointless if the asphalt mediates
You won’t find anything if you’re tied with retail chains
Why bother traveling if it all just looks the same

There’s a warehouse show out in New Mexico and films are being screened up on a Brooklyn roof
Basement galleries in Knoxville, Tennessee and Tallahassee games under the moon
So will you come with me to either shining sea to cleanse the monoculture from our souls?
Then we’ll roam town to town listening for any sound that can tell us they’re having a show
So raise a glass of your sweat to acknowledge the debt that we owe to our most gracious hosts

4. Catch Me If You Can

So Peter’s moved on down to Asheville
No, Maui wasn’t quite his pace
I’ll see Hawaii yet, I swear someday I will but right now, North Carolina calls my name

Then I’ll meet Jamie in Kentucky and I’ll see Katy in DC
And I’ll find Michael out on the Reeperbahn as soon as I can find my way back ‘cross the sea

So catch me if you can
I’m runnin’ hard without a compass or a plan
So catch me if you can
I’m on the road

I hear that Brett’s still in Seattle
That boy and I can dance all night
And my Portland crew, yeah we know a thing or two ‘bout sippin’ Jerry, ridin’ bikes and shootin’ dice
I plan to find Brian in London but that is gonna have to wait
I’m still in Brooklyn, yeah I’m scrappin’ with old friends and then I’m headin’ north to see the kids Upstate

So catch me if you can
I’m runnin’ hard without a compass or a plan
So catch me if you can

With these old friends I’ve got I’m at a constant trot just to track them all across the globe
I’d love to stay the week but my restless feet are already towards the road

I miss my mom and dad in Jersey
I miss my gram’ in Tampa Bay
I miss Theresa Jean each time I leave her side
Even though it happens damn near every day

I’m headin’ back to Buenos Aires to meet my sister in the park
We’ll spend December in the smilin’ summer sun, eatin’ empanadas and playin’ some cards

So catch me if you can
I’m runnin’ hard without a compass or a plan
So catch me if you can

I’m on the bus my hat pulled down with a bottle in my bag
I’m on the boat against the rail with the wind against my back
I’m on the road the open road with my thumb outstretched from my hand

So catch me if you can
So catch me if you can
So catch me if you can

5. Sunday Blues

Sunday falls down easy
Sunday falls down easy

Fall asleep in church, Dad wakes me up, I fall asleep again
Then we swing on by the Bagelsmith, one salt and one garlic
Read the paper even though there’s only two good comic strips
And that’s about the time my day becomes a mess

Don’t bother with TV
The networks never show the Broncos, it’s regional coverage
They do it to spite me
Why go out to the street?  I hate the neighbors
How am I supposed to act like Elway if they won’t let me play QB?
Believe it

Sunday falls down easy
Sunday falls down easy

Open up the fridge, I close it, then I open it again
I get out my science book and wonder where the weekend went
Then I’m staring out the window as I offer this lament
If it’s my day off, why am I so depressed?

The Friday morning glee, the Sunday blues
It’s all about anticipation, there’ no “in the moment” for me
I gotta break this streak
I can’t hang with the 9-5ers and drive-time DJs sayin’, “TGIF, buddy”
Believe it

Sunday falls down easy
Sunday falls down easy

6. Tyler and Marla Were Right

Everybody says they hate the sound of their own voice
But I’ll admit that I prefer mine to any other noise
So does that make me self-absorbed or do I even have a choice?
It’s probably both, but I keep talking either way

In the haze of glowing screens we pin our thoughts to message boards
Disregarding countless ideas tied upon the thread before
And so we miss the irony that ours will also be ignored
Are we content to merely shout out into space?

In cathedrals with stained windows people whisper quiet prayers
To a god that listens well because no one knows if he’s there
But we don’t bother to investigate because we are too scared
If there’s no god, then who will tell us it’s okay?

All the lefties dream their jerseys will majestically ascend
To the rafters of arenas where we celebrate dissent
Where we talk of revolution while consuming all we can
The game’s not what you do; it’s only what you say
And I know how to play

So we keep our hands raised high and we all silently yearn
To be the next who’s called upon to show what we have learned
Because no one really listens we just all wait for our turn
Our minds our clogged with all the things we plan to say
I’ve got something to say

7. The Children of the Broken Glass

We were the orphans of suburban slums
Raised by retail clerks and food court bums
Our parents were away under fluorescent suns to give us what they never had
We were the children of the broken glass where the parking lots yield to yellow grass
We lodged our broomsticks in the pavement cracks and we flew our scarlet flags

And we wrapped rebellion’s arms around our waists
And we held our hearts out for the world to taste
And injustice was meant for our hands to erase
And you know we had a lot of work to do

We are the siblings of an endless war, which our elders wage on distant shores
We whined and kicked and screamed upon the kitchen floor and we threatened to run away
We are the children of the hourglass; our ambitions fell like grains of sand
We waited for the echoes of our protest chants so we could hear our own decay

We sang through riot barricades
And our voices bled, they bled onto the tape
We can hear it when those records play
And we know it’s the sound of our own decay
It’s the sound of our decay
It’s the sound of our decay
It’s the sound of our decay

And we pulled rebellion’s arms from round our waists
And we hid our hearts to shield them from disgrace
And injustice laughed aloud and rubbed it in our face
So you know we’ve got a lot of work to do
We’ve got a lot of work to do
We’ve got a lot of work to do
We’ve got a lot of work to do

8. I Need a Better Cyrano

When we drove back into town we found more snow upon the ground
The place was gray as Puget Sound
Surprise, surprise
You said this place would never change, while we age it stays the same
You said you had to find some bluer skies

“We should find us a place in the sun,” I said
I just mumbled those words from the song in my head
Yeah Stevie Wonder is feeding me fine poetry
So come out onto your balcony

I said, “Let’s get out of the cold, somewhere they’ve never heard of snow”
You said you were going alone
Surprise, surprise
You said you had some things to do and there would not be room for two
I tried to find some way to change your mind

“I never dreamed you would leave me in winter,” I said
And that made you laugh but you still shook your head
If I’m just gonna quote Stevie’s lines like a jerk
Then I wish I could pick some that work

9. I Knew I Shoulda Taken That Left Turn at Albuquerque

I dropped my bags onto the bed
400 miles and 3 states I’ve fled
I dropped my bags onto the bed

Upon the wall there was a frame
Inside, a painting that looked just the same as the painting on the wall when I woke up today
Didn’t I just leave this place?

I must’ve taken a wrong turn
I’m lost on the road more traveled by
I pulled aside to sit here on the curb
I must’ve taken a wrong turn

In this hotel parking lot, I called up my dear mom
And I told her I’m alright, yeah I think she knows I lied
When I left twelve years ago, I was nervous and aglow
Now I’m bored and rather dull and I’m tired of the ride
I know I’ve heard this song before
Blaring from the dashboard of my Chrysler with my foot tapping the floor
Yeah something’s wrong with living on the road
If I’m over every melody and chord then I need a different home

I must’ve taken a wrong turn
I’m lost on the road more traveled by
I pulled aside to sit here on the curb
I must’ve taken a wrong turn

While staring at the map, I called up my dear dad
And he told me it’s alright, yeah he said it’d be just fine
“Well tell me this, my son, what’s the reason that you run?”
“I’m stuck in cruise control and I don’t remember why”
Oh no, I’ve seen this place before
From the bright blue shower curtain to the floral carpet floor
Something’s wrong with living on the road
If there’s no variation and no change, then I need a different home

From this hotel parking lot, I called up my dear mom
And I told her I’m alright, yeah I think she’s knows I lied
Back when this all began, adventure was the plan
What happened to the plan?  What happened to…
Aw hell, I know I met this guy before
Same popped collar and bad jokes, Marley poster on his door
Something’s wrong with living on the road if everyone I meet acts the same
Then I need a different home

I must’ve taken a wrong turn
I’m lost on the road more traveled by
I pulled aside to sit here on the curb
Must’ve taken a wrong turn

From this hotel parking lot, I called up my dear mom
And I told her I’m alright, I told her I’m just fine

10. Time’s Tollbooth

I was waiting for you to enter the room in this dingy motel out in Syracuse
Another year spent on the road and time collects the tolls
You know that I pay with each of my days

Your smile was lit bright by the years of my life but I wasted my breath with this tired lament:
“Too many candles on this cake and I’m sick of getting spanked
So just let me be the old man by the sea”

But you said, “Oh no, you’re not that old”
You said, “Oh no
You’ve just finally realized someday you’re gonna die
But you’ll be okay, you’ll be alright”

My friends sit at the bar and they gaze from afar
At the teenagers dancing and laughing so hard
They say, “Now do you remember when?  I think we were once like them”
They nod and agree and then order a drink

But I say, “ Oh no you’re not that old
I say, “Oh no
You still know how to dance
You just won’t take a chance
So take one with me or we’ll drown in whiskey”

My right knee’s goin’ my hearing’s blown
I’ve got scars on my teeth and chips off my throat
But they’re all just signs that it’s been a good life
It’s been a good life, yeah it’s been a good life

We sing oh no
We sing oh whoa
We sing oh no
We sing oh whoa

We sing oh no
We’re not that old
We sing oh no
We’ve just finally realized
Someday we’re gonna die
But we’ll be okay, we’ll be alright

11. The End of Art

When I was pretty lean on cash, I was alone, no place to crash
Music flowed out of me like faucets spouting tasty melodies
Now there’s a love that’s in my life, I sleep the same place every night
Comforts of industry are happily surrounding me

And nowadays, I have no complaints
Nothing more to say
Nothing more to say

Is this the end of art? is this the end of passion?
Is this the end of grief? Are all our feelings has-beens?
Is this the end of pain creatively imagined?
Is this the end of art?  Is this the end of art?

It’s cool to like the President so there’s no reason for dissent
Everyone put down their guns and all that pesky violence is done
Our nukes are sleeping with the fish and everybody’s birthday wish comes true
And children sing and fairies dance on sparrow wings

And no complaints, no one wants a change
Nothing left to say
Nothing left to say

Is that the end of art?  Is that the end of passion?
Is that the end of grief? Are all our feelings has-beens?
Is that the end of pain crafted in abstraction?
Is that the end of art?  Is that the end?

Is anything here more depraved than a country singer who just raves about how swell his country is, just shilling for the government?
Sit down my friend and let me bore you while we sit here on the porch with cocktails as I bloviate about how life’s so fuckin’ great
I’m not happy unless I’m pissed but that reveals my privilege: no matter who’s in charge today, my life is pretty much the same
So with no reason to protest, I’ll whine about how art is best when we know sadness, anguish and distress

Is this the end of art?  Is this the end of passion?
Is this the end of grief? Are all our feelings has-beens?
Is this the end of pain creatively imagined?
Is this the end of art?

Is this the end of art?  Is this the end of passion?
Is this the end of grief? Are all our feelings has-beens?
Is this the end of pain all crafted in abstraction?
Is this the end of art?  Is this the end of art?