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RUBE GOLDBERG & WALKMAN from the collection “1988”
RUBE GOLDBERG God put this machine inside my chest Rube Goldberg by design the fault is His, not mine, I guess. Attentive lies, phantom caress Black candlelight and poisoned wine God put deceipt inside my chest. And on the vineyard he dropped the pest that separated grape from vine the rot is his not mine, I guess And what should be borne from Earth’s breast as the green bud begins to climb God sets His sun down in the west Just as rot cannot from wood divest anymore than needle from the pine The decay is yours, not mine, I guess And love is a mousetrap lever pressed or the last domino in the line or the final move in this game of chess
the queen is mine, God takes the rest.
Written by Ryan J. Tressel
RJT: All instruments
WALKMAN Walking home on School Street, the birds are signing just for me. But I’m not even listening, I’m just rocking to my walkman. The music roaring like the surf
punches holes into the earth Just magnetism hard at work Powering my walkman But I’m not listening. I crave the music like a fiend just close my eyes and count the beats all the eighths and the sixteenths come marching through my walkman The only time I’m ever free is when I flip to Side B the hiss of tape, the sweet release of listening to my walkman But I’m not listening. I’m not listening to you. The fuzzy headphones are the best at night I clutch them to my chest while listening to the EBS intoning “This is just a test.” My crystal ball is finally clear
and I can see my future years so why the hurt and why the tears? I want an answer I’m all ears.
Written by Ryan J. Tressel
RJT: All instruments
Recorded July 2007.
