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    Scott Cook

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    lyrics from Long Way to Wander 

    fish jumpin 

    Earth around and air above 
    what a lovely place to be in love 
    fish jumpin, pollywogs wogglin 
    insects getting it on and minds boggling 
    well, smoke dragons, happy hounds waggin 
    flies and butterflies ziggin and zaggin 
    we could dance in the mud or just do whatever 
    you and I could put our heads together 
    and talk solutions or just talk silly 
    sounding senses and sensibilities 
    we could get high to complement the weather 
    you and I could scatter our atoms together 
    and see what different songs ring 
    in the mingled spaces in between 

    sunny sister, your shady eyes 
    your dewy morning thoughts, your smooth tattooed sides 
    we could kick the hack and dig the sunny weather 
    you and I could wander down the winding road together 
    and pick berries, explore and spelunk 
    and wonder and gape and who woulda thunk it? 
    why, fish jumpin, pollywogs wogglin 
    insects getting it on and minds boggling 
    well, smoke dragons, happy hounds waggin 
    flies and butterflies ziggin and zaggin 
    Earth around and air above 
    what a lovely place to be in love 
    we could raise a glass of wine and toast the weather 
    you and I could scatter our atoms together 
    and see what different songs ring 
    in the mingled spaces in between 

    we could make Chinese lamps and float em down the river 
    hold each other with our bodies all a-quiver 
    close the tent fly against the rainy weather 
    you and I could zip our sleeping bags together 

    my grandma 

    my grandma's from Alabama, there 
    after the letter 'v' comes 'dubya' 
    and every time we play rummy, she says, 
    "chile, I'm a-fixin' to whup ya" (and she usually does) 
    going to the city school 
    I was embarassed of my roots 
    yet I never had enough 
    to pull off the chaps or cowboy boots 
    but the levels are all shifting now, 
    it ain't about what's below and above ya 

    working in the oil camps up north, 
    it was cold and boring but the silences were big 
    country boys and maritimers 
    busted me up laughing but man, they were pigs 
    two roughnecks got drunk one night 
    and met some girls in town 
    the road was iced and the truck 
    went in the ditch when they came back around 
    but they hotwired a Bobcat 
    and drove drunk five miles an hour back to the rig 

    some of my friends are out planting trees 
    and other folks keep busy cutting them down 
    and we all have our sympathies, 
    the world mocks expectations all around 
    but we can't carry old grudges, 
    even if most of them are true 
    by the same measure that you judge 
    will it be measured against you 
    the levels are all shifting now 
    love the lost until they're found 

    back home it was beautiful 
    and effortless in the company of old friends 
    we wiled away the weeks that way 
    and got wilder on the weekends 
    but I split from all that English 
    and I turned from brown to green 
    remembering the world 
    outside of words and what they mean 
    the story's getting wider now, let's 
    take a look around here, not toward the end 

    look back on the road, 
    how is it that we've come this far? 
    and how is it that we're so blessed 
    to be exactly where we are? 

    guanyin 

    when I get down off of this mountain 
    I don’t wanna lash out anymore from the anger in me 
    and though it’s a hard road, harder than either of us know 
    I won’t let myself be paralyzed by all of the paralysis I see 

    pretty white Guanyin on a thick green mountain 
    looking down at the world with the eyes of mercy 
    and when I get down off of this mountain, 
    I won’t let myself be stupefied by all of the stupidity I see 

    when I get back home to see you 
    I hope you’ll recognize a different man than before 
    cause I’ve made choices, listened to quiet voices, 
    and I know I can’t run all the same games anymore 
    livin hard and loud, sometimes too proud 
    trying to write our names across the sky 
    seeing losers, and sickening people 
    trying to remind myself, there but for the grace of God go I 

    if I make it for September 
    maybe I can get my shit together and go back to school 
    but if I don’t, I’ll see you in Argentina 
    we can head to the beaches when the summer dies down, 
    leave the misty mountains when the weather gets cool 

    keep rollin 

    some days I have much to say 
    and lots to think about in the evenings 
    but it’s hard when it rains all day 
    and old loves and my old mind are grieving me 
    it’s inconstant and elusive 
    even if you’ve found it once 
    sifting water through your fingers 
    getting back to the weeks and months 
    when God got crazier every day 
    and life kept widening and deepening 
    each day to the next day, my 
    hair grows longer and 
    the days do too, 
    shaking this feeling that I 
    get from you 

    just got to roll with the punches and the bad words 
    roll, keep rollin, each day to the next day 
    and sometimes Sunday morning 
    still awake in a public park 
    you get around to thinking like you couldn’t 
    while it was still dark 
    life before you unfolds naked, 
    hazy as it is 
    and you taste a fragile sweetness 
    past the reckless bitter end 
    and you get to feeling like a brand new person, 
    staggering and wide-eyed as you are 

    just got to roll with the punches and the bad words 
    roll, keep rollin, each day to the next day 

    worried blues 

    I’ve got the worried blues 
    I’ve got the worried blues 
    I’ve got those old deep-down worried blues 
    going where I’ve never been before 

    going where I’ve never been before, and 
    going where I’ve never been before 
    going out further than I’ve ever been before, and 
    hope the sun’ll keep shining on my mornings 

    going where the chilly winds don’t blow, boys 
    going where the chilly winds don’t blow 
    going down south where those chilly winds don’t blow, and 
    going where the climate suits my clothes 

    somewhere I can hear the birds sing 
    somewhere I can hear the birds sing 
    somewhere I can hear those little birds sing 
    poor old heart hanging on a string 

    honey, babe I hope you understand 
    honey, babe I hope you understand 
    honey, babe I hope at least you understand 
    if I was simple, then I wouldn’t be your man 

    listen to that old engine roar 
    listen to that old engine roar 
    listen to that old, cold steel engine roar 
    going where I’ve never been before 

    when the lights go down 

    been trying to put it down in rhyme since I don’t know when 
    since Kerouac told me to speak up and Walt Whitman handed me the pen 
    still never unscrewed it all, though 
    plenty of things we’re better off to never ever know 
    but I still wanna hear that secret something 
    couldn’t really say what it is 
    but it’s taken me all around the world 
    and it keeps bringing me back to this 
    bringing me back to this 

    here I am after all 
    just like any place it gets to feeling small 
    so when the lights go down 
    I slip out of the house and wander around 

    I tried to chat up a lady last weekend 
    but she apparently wasn’t you 
    she wasn’t nearly so initially mystified by 
    all the crazy things I do 
    she didn’t call me a pervert 
    she didn’t call me “baby” 
    she didn’t call me, 
    she just didn’t call me (and isn’t that life?) 
    but I got a good dog named Rosco 
    with light shiny fur 
    he takes my mind off my lost lady 
    though he could never replace her 
    he could never replace her 

    and here I am after all 
    just like any place it gets to feeling small 
    so when the lights go down 
    I slip out of the house and wander around 

    the bus song 

    I dreamed I crossed the continent with poetry and speed 
    robust and mythological on my chrome and black steed 
    I woke up cramped in a tiny seat by a port-a-john that stunk 
    with six or seven Southern sisters crying, “Mercy, you smell that funk?” 
    I saw the rolling moonlit prairie and I knew I was glory-bound 
    it’s just a shame we’ve gotta ride in on this flea-bitten Hound 

    I got awakened by the singing of a drunk old nappy-head 
    someone said “shut up” and that pissed off that sketchy dread 
    he voiced his indignation to anyone who’d hear 
    “none but the righteous shall survive,” he said, as he cracked another beer 
    and stumbled off the bus in Windsor, thinking he was in Detroit 
    the driver’d be as unforgiving as the border patrol boys 

    well, I got off the bus in Michigan and that so-and-so left me behind 
    similar high-school incidents flashed back across my mind 
    ‘cept only then, I didn’t have to sleep on the sidewalk in Traverse City 
    as we all know, faceless corporations have no pity 
    they left me luggage-less and sweatshirt-less but I was still doing alright 
    at least until the sprinklers came on in the middle of the night 

    soaked and battered but unbeaten, I got back on the bus 
    and what I saw there made me wonder what’ll come of all of us 
    they’d sifted through the human barrel and gathered such strange pickins 
    the scene would only be complete with bleating sheep and chickens 
    I saw the jobless and the vision-less, the pursuing and pursued 
    the whole shuddering scene all about to come unglued 

    dirty bathrooms and babies, I thought I’d seen it all 
    there was an eighteen-year-old mother going through withdrawal 
    there were Bible-belters arguing their doctrinal schisms 
    there were also rednecks advocating vigilante-ism 
    we were just outside of ludicrous and headed for profound 
    on that armpit-smelling, leg-cramping, smoke-colored Hound 

    we were kinda like a family cause we couldn’t choose each other 
    there was a pretty former stripper who was kinda like our mother 
    she started sharing food and stories, made us all get along 
    and for a while even the size of my seat didn’t seem so wrong 
    I could take all kinds of people, bad parenting aside 
    at least until we took our shoes off, you could say I enjoyed the ride 

    she managed to hold on to my faith come whatever 
    the sane and honest few of us have to stick together 
    but then the driver left our mom behind and showed himself to be 
    another inconsiderate so-and-so like the one who left me 
    for a while I forgot everything I thought I’d learned 
    I wished there was a Day of Judgment so we could laugh as he burned 

    by the time we reached Vancouver it was all that I could do 
    not to jump up and start singing songs to that oceanic blue 
    I wandered down the street and bought a bag of that kind leaf 
    had a smoke and donned my backpack with an exhale of relief 
    I’m not saying I’m regretting, just the next time around 
    I’m gonna ride that old Green Tortoise cause at least you can lay down 

    moonlight avenue 

    well I’m movin, down to moonlight avenue 
    yeah, I’m movin, down to moonlight avenue 
    droppin all o’ my worries down in a well so deep 
    you can say what you will about the company I keep 
    cause I’m movin, down to moonlight avenue 

    when I was livin back on that lamp-lit boulevard 
    when I was livin back on that lamp-lit boulevard 
    sharing close quarters with the sheep and the goats 
    feeling the tightening of the noose around my throat 
    when I was livin back on that lamp-lit boulevard 

    well I’m leavin, pawn off my silver watch and chain 
    yeah, I’m leavin, gonna pawn my silver watch and chain 
    I've just gotten so tired of tightening my belt 
    tryin at feelin the way I thought I should've felt 
    I’m leavin, pawn off my silver watch and chain 

    so lonesome 

    all day on blacktop roads, ballcap for want of shade 
    sleeping out nights alone, curled up in forest glades 
    so lonesome sometimes I could almost quit 
    wonder where my lady is, to talk to as we walk through it 
    and I can hear heavenly music, comin out amplified 
    cumulous clouds and canola fields stretch out gold and wide 
    and that strange dislocation, waiting on rides and in laundromats 
    gets easier to take when you remember that 
    old curious feeling you used to get 
    staring off down highways, and watching vapor trails from jets 
    and looking up a moonlit creek I was feeling like my younger self 
    itching to go and yearning to be understood by someone else 
    I took love so seriously, even though I was just a kid 
    nobody set out to hurt me, it just wound up that a few girls did 
    but keep in mind you came in alone, and you’ll go out alone 
    you can’t hold people to your plans, or measure yourself by their standards 
    it gets easier and less to say, leaving lovers and friends 
    the same thing that fills your heart today may break it in the end 
    so lonesome sometimes, feeling beat-up and looking like hell 
    wonder where my lady is, wonder if she’d mind my smell now 

    so lonesome sometimes, that old feeling echoes back a sweet reminder 
    wonder where my lady is, wonder if I’ll ever find her 
    so long, so long, so long solo… 

    long way to wander 

    back when I was younger, and even goofier 
    me and some friends of mine went off to the woods to have ourselves a camping trip 
    and in addition to the tents and sleeping bags and tarps and lawnchairs and firewood, 
    a potentially-dangerous cookstove and Frisbees and hacky-sacks and Trix cereal and beer, 
    we took along a little one-inch-by-two-inch rectangle of paper 
    and found we didn’t need so much beer 

    that night we laughed ourselves breathless 
    and got scared, and staggered in the woods, eyes all lit up 
    and when we had no other choice but to lie down 
    we saw our bodies join with the Earth, and saw the trees dance 

    in the morning these people came by and gave us the bum’s rush 
    left us to wander down the road, and through the woods 
    and contemplate the tiny mosses and lichens and mushrooms and flowers and dewdrops 
    and the tall bearded trees, and wonder just how it all came to be 
    and just how it was that somebody could own land 

    one of these days I’ll go rollin back 
    to all the things I forgot to write down 
    for now I’ll keep on wandering along 
    itching in my shoes, don’t know where I’m bound 

    and this walking rhythm reminds me of my buddy Raoul 
    he’s forty-something, from Venice 
    he’s got a handlebar moustache even wider than his smile 
    he’d walked across who knows how many countries, 
    and the locals everywhere thought he was hilarious 
    no shoes, only a small bag and a guitar across his back 

    well, fortunately I had a guitar too 
    this little cardboard three-quarter-size with a Nike swoosh on it 
    that I picked up in Chiang Mai for fifteen bucks 
    ended up giving it away to a kid in Bangkok who wanted to learn 
    but in the meantime it sure came in handy on that boat ride 

    and you had to listen real carefully to hear them 
    over the roar of the old diesel engine 
    that the boatman had to keep bailing out as it flooded with river-water 
    and we rolled down that muddy Mekong 
    and sang all the English songs he knew 
    and couldn’t think of anybody in the world we’d rather be 
    although I did consider being the boatman 

    and offhand I asked him, “hey man, you own a boat?” 
    he says “I’m a Venetian, I have five boats!” 
    and later on in that Indian restaurant in Luang Phabang he was on fire, 
    making toast after toast, yelling out for “more Beer Lao! More chapattis!” 
    and the shine in his eye made me wonder 
    whether he’d spent the night with that Israeli girl 
    or whether he’d somehow temporarily unlocked that great unspeakable mystery 
    or whether he was just drunk, or all three 

    and the last time I saw him I was rushing to catch a bus 
    the two of us crammed painfully into one of those little 
    cage-like, sidecar-like contraptions that rides alongside a motorbike 
    and I was aching to be leaving so soon, 
    with so much left to see and do, 
    and I turned around to the road behind me 
    and took the picture on the cover of this record 
    and I hugged my brother goodbye and ran for the bus 
    forgetting that this was Laos, and after all a schedule is just paper, 
    and in any case you can’t be going anywhere without the tunes! 
    so I had a half-hour to cool my heels while the boys got the tape deck half-working 
    and wowing and fluttering we disco’d off into that great, vine-tangled thatch-hut night 

    and every now and then I get to thinking about him 
    and wonder where he is, and what he’s doing 
    him and all the other folks we’ve split paths from back along the way 
    Tom Uduoj, where are ya? 
    and how about Craig Smart? 
    and that Danish punk Christian Plaschke? 
    and Heather Kehe and Isaac Marquez? 
    one of these days, I’m gonna roll on down to Eugene, 
    and ask around, and find you 

    out on a curving road it’s a different situation 
    white lines count the seconds of your life rolling by 
    peeling back the gears and stripping away the years 
    and like a fresh young thing you still know how to cry 

    one of these days I’ll go rollin back 
    to all the things I left lying around 
    for now I’ll keep on wandering along 
    long way to go, don’t know where I’m bound 

    wayside 

    my friend, wait by the wayside 
    linger awhile by the wayside and see 
    I’ll come wandering by there in no time 
    wait by the wayside for me 

    when we walk along singing 
    when we walk along singing we’ll see 
    voices are stronger and sweeter in harmony 
    wait by the wayside for me 

    sometimes things can get dangerous 
    sometimes it can be so hard to see 
    but the road’s not so dark when we walk it together 
    wait by the wayside for me

    • stay kind •

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