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Wilco
Wilco


Информация
Откуда Chicago, Illinois, USA
Жанры Alternative Rock
Alternative Country
Folk-Rock
Experimental Rock
Годы 1994—н.в.
Лейблы Reprise Records
Nonesuch Records
См. также Uncle Tupelo
Loose Fur
The Autumn Defense
Billy Bragg
Сайт Website
Состав
Jeff Tweedy
John Stirratt
Nels Cline
Glenn Kotche
Pat Sansone
Mikael Jorgensen
Бывшие участники
Leroy Bach
Max Johnston
Jay Bennett
Bob Egan
Ken Coomer



Альбом Wilco


with Billy Bragg & Wilco
Mermaid Avenue Vol. II (30.05.2000)
30.05.2000
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. . .



There's an airline plane
Flies to heaven everyday
Past the pearly gates

If you want to ride this train
Have your ticket in your hand
Before it is too late

If the world looks wrong
And your money's spent and gone
And your friend has turned away

You can get away to heaven
On this aeroplane
Just bow your head and pray

Them's got ears, let them hear
Them's got eyes, let them see
Turn your eyes to the lord of the skies

Take this airline plane
It'll take you home again
To your home behind the skies

Well a lot of people guess
Some say no and some say yes
Will it take some and leave some behind?

But you will surely know
When to the airport go
To leave this world behind

Oh a lot of speakers speak
A lot of preachers preach
When you lay their salary on the line

You can hold your head and pray
It's the only earthly way
You can fly to heaven on time
Fly to heaven on time

Them's got ears, let them hear
Them's got eyes, let them see
Turn your eyes to the lord of the skies

Take that airline plane
It'll take you home again
To your home behind the skies

Your ticket you obtain
On this heavenly airline plane
You leave your sins behind

You've got to take this flight
It may be daytime, might be night
But you can't see your way if you're blind

Them's got ears, let them hear
Them's got eyes, let them see
Turn your eyes to the lord of the skies

Take that airline plane
It'll take you home again

. . .



My flying saucer, where can you be
Since that sad night that you sailed away from me?
My flying saucer, I pray this night
You will sail back before the day gets bright

My flying saucer, fly back for home
You will get lost in the universe alone
My flying saucer, end all my fears
Sail back tonight, love and kiss away my tears

My flying saucer, I pray this night
You will sail back before the day gets bright


. . .



If you beat up, you butcher, and you bleed a man
You bang up and badger and blood-let a man
And then I come along
On the feet of man
And halfway laugh and cry
About the meat of man

And I do what I can
To bale string and tie
Some ballad truths
Up and cured out
For the feed of man

Folks try to tell me
That it's on God's orders
That you bleed your man
It's on God's good word that you
Bleed your man
On God's plan print
That you dead a man
Or spit and curse and whip your man

I say I'll help you squeeze and fix yourself up a
A new kind of God of some kind

One that tells you
Fertilize and multiply
One that tells you
Outsow and outblow
Outplant and outgrow
Outdo, and outrun, and outclimb, and outspread
Every other tree and bush
And brushy fruits and flower petals
Outfruit them all
For the feed of man

Outstalk and outhunt and outthink
For God's own sweet sake, outthink! Outthink!
Outthink the fruits
Outgrow these animal kinds and shapes of man
It you miss and go down
Your dust will turn up on that long hot job
Once more again

To help in the feeding and the seed of man

. . .



I'm a porter and a night clerk at the old Hot Rod Hotel
I clean and scrub the lobby down and thirty-one rooms as well
I wax and shine their boots and shoes
I brush down their crinkly clothes
And I meet the buses and trains and I show you to your door

Bell-bottom pants brought two boys in at six-fourteen last night
Two girls checked in at ten-oh-two and I flipped on the light
The lamrod's wife looks in their doors and finds one terrible sight
Those boys and girls got bawled up in their doors and rooms that night

A bloody flood could never mess these rooms up any worse
It looked like Moe had used this room to grease and breed a horse
Old gum and hairs and sticky rags, old bottles on the floors
Gobs of spit and condom rubbers on the windows, walls, and doors

The lammy tried to make me clean out that crappy mess
Or else he'd fire me off my job and let me starve to death
I laid aside my polish rag and I downed my dusting pan

. . .



I was born at half past twelve, almost one in the morning
I was born at half past one, almost two in the morning
Now my birthday comes again and I don't know how old I am
Half past one or two or three, almost four in the morning

I was born at half past four, almost five in the morning
I was born at half past six, almost seven in the morning
How old am I, you ask of me? One year younger than I used to be
Half past seven, half past eight, half past nine in the morning

I was born at half past nine, almost ten in the morning
I was born at half past ten, almost 'leven in the morning
Today my age is tweedle and twee, I'm prettier than I used to be

. . .



Who can guess the secret of the sea?
Who can guess the secret of the sea?
If you can guess the secret of my love for you
Then we both could know the secret of the sea

Tell me could you ever tell the secret of the sea?
These high rolling waves along the shore
The footprints of the lovers that come here to love
By the tides washed away forever more

Who can guess the secret of the sea?
Who can guess the secret of the sea?
If you can guess the secret of my love for you
Then we both could know the secret of the sea

You claim to know the secret of a kiss and a hug
The secret of the grass and of the trees
If you can tell the secret of a warm friend's hand
Then we all would feel the secrets of the sea

Who can guess the secret of the sea?
Who can guess the secret of the sea?
If you can guess the secret of my love for you
Then we both could know the secret of the sea

. . .



I done spent my last three cents
Mailing my letter to the President
Didn't make a show, I didn't make a dent
So I'm swinging over to this independent gent

Stetson Kennedy
Writing his name in
Stetson Kennedy
Writing his name in

I can't win out to save my soul
Long as Smathers-Dupont's got me in the hole
Them war profit boys are squawking and balking
That's what's got me out here walking and talking

Knocking on doors and windows
Wake up and run down election morning
And scribble in Stetson Kennedy

I ain't the world's best writer, ain't the world's best speller
But when I believe in something I'm the loudest yeller
If we fix it so you can't make no money on war
Well we'll all forget what we was killing folks for

We'll find us a peace job equal and free
We'll dump Smathers-Dupont in a salty sea

. . .



Do you still sing of the mountain bed we made of limbs and leaves?
Do you still sigh there near the sky where the holly berry bleeds?
You laughed as I covered you over with leaves
Face, breast, hips, and thighs
You smiled when I said the leaves were just the color of your eyes

Rosin smells and turpentine smells from eucalyptus and pine
Bitter tastes of twigs we chewed where tangled wood vines twine
Trees held us in on all four sides so thick we could not see
I could not see any wrong in you, and you saw none in me

Your arm was brown against the ground, your cheeks part of the sky
Your fingers played with grassy moss, as limber you did lie
Your stomach moved beneath your shirt and your knees were in the air
Your feet played games with mountain roots as you lay thinking there

Below us the trees grew clumps of trees, raised families of trees, and they
As proud as we tossed their heads in the wind and flung good seeds away
The sun was hot and the sun was bright down in the valley below
Where people starved and hungry for life so empty come and go

There in the shade and hid from the sun we freed our minds and learned
Our greatest reason for being here, our bodies moved and burned
There on our mountain bed of leaves we learned life's reason why
The people laugh and love and dream, they fight, they hate to die

The smell of your hair I know is still there, if most of our leaves are blown
Our words still ring in the brush and the trees where singing seeds are sown
Your shape and form is dim but plain, there on our mountain bed
I see my life was brightest where you laughed and laid your head...

I learned the reason why man must work and how to dream big dreams
To conquer time and space and fight the rivers and the seas
I stand here filled with my emptiness now and look at city and land
And I know why farms and cities are built by hot, warm, nervous hands

I crossed many states just to stand here now, my face all hot with tears
I crossed city, and valley, desert, and stream, to bring my body here
My history and future blaze bright in me and all my joy and pain
Go through my head on our mountain bed where I smell your hair again.

All this day long I linger here and on in through the night
My greeds, desires, my cravings, hopes, my dreams inside me fight:
My loneliness healed, my emptiness filled, I walk above all pain

. . .



Are your garments all spotless?
Are they white as the snow?
Are you washed in the blood of the lamb?

Is your soul all spotless?
Is it clean as the snow?
Are you washed in the blood of the lamb?

I am washed, yes I'm washed
I am washed in the blood
I'm all washed in the blood of the lamb

I'm all clean I'm all spotless
I'm all pure like the snow
I'm all washed in the blood of the lamb

Have you laid down your burdens?
Have you found peace and rest?
Are you washed in the blood of the lamb?

I've laid down all my troubles
I've found peace and rest
I'm all washed in the blood of the lamb

Have you learned to love your neighbors?
Of all colors, creeds and kinds?
Are you washed in the blood of the lamb?

I've learned to love my peoples
Of all colors, creeds, and kinds
I'm all washed in the blood of the lamb

I am washed, yes I'm washed
I am washed in the blood
I'm all washed in the blood of the lamb

I'm all clean I'm all spotless
And I'm pure like the snow

. . .



It's against the law to walk, and against the law to talk
Against the law to loaf, against the law to work
Against the law to read, against the law to write
Against the law to be a black, a brown, or white

Everything's against the law
I'm a low-pay daddy singing the high-price blues

It's against the law to eat, against the law to drink
Against the law to worry, against the law to think
Against the law to marry or try to settle down
Against the law to ramble like a bum from town to town

Everything's against the law
I'm a low-pay daddy singing the high-price blues

It's against the law to come, against the law to go
Against the law to ride, against the law to roll
Against the law to hug and against the law to kiss
Against the law to shoot, against the law to miss

Everything's against the law
I'm a low-pay daddy singing the high-price blues

It's against the law to gamble, against the law to roam
Against the law to organize or try to build a home
Against the law to sing, it's against the law to dance
Against the law to tell you all the trouble on my hands

Everything in Winston-Salem is against the law

. . .



I'm gonna tell all you fascists, you may be surprised
People all over this world are getting organized
You're bound to lose
You fascists are bound to lose

Race hatred cannot stop us, this one thing I know
Poll tax and Jim Crow and greed have got to go
You're bound to lose
You fascists are bound to lose

All you fascists are bound to lose
You fascists are bound to lose
You fascists are bound to lose
You're bound to lose, you fascists
Are bound to lose

People of every color marching side by side
Marching across these fields where a million fascists died
You're bound to lose
You fascists are bound to lose

All you fascists are bound to lose
You fascists are bound to lose
You fascists are bound to lose
You're bound to lose, you fascists
Are bound to lose

I'm going into this battle, take my union gun
Gonna end this world of slavery before this war is won
You're bound to lose
You fascists are bound to lose

All you fascists are bound to lose
You fascists are bound to lose
You fascists are bound to lose
You're bound to lose, you fascists
Are bound to lose

I said, all you fascists are bound to lose
You fascists are bound to lose
You fascists are bound to lose
You're bound to lose, you fascists

. . .



Joe DiMaggio's done it again
Joe DiMaggio's done it again
Clackin' that bat, gone with the wind
Joe DiMaggio's done it again

Some folks thought Big Joe was done
Some just figured Joe was gone
Steps to the platter with a great big grin
Joe DiMaggio's done it again

I'm gonna tell you just the way I feel
Man can't run without his heel
Watch that raggy pill split the wind
Joe DiMaggio's done it again

All three fielders jumped their best
Trying to climb that high board fence
They all growed whiskers on their chins
Joe DiMaggio's done it again

Up along the clouds where the eagles roam
Joe cracked that ball to whine and moan
His buddies all laugh as they trot on in
Joe DiMaggio's done it again

Grandma's home by the radio
On the television watching Joe
She jerks the beard off of Grandpa's chin
Joe DiMaggio's done it again

The puppy dog barked at the pussycat
How does it look from where you sat?
Looks like a cyclone slidin' in

. . .



If the folks next door to me weren't so good
I'd do all the mean things anybody could
I'd drink and I'd gamble and I'd louse around
I'd be the meanest man in this whole town

If I hadn't seen the light in that old lady's eyes
I'd try to be a man you would hate and despise
I'd rave and I'd rant and I'd scream and yell
And I'd chase my neighbors from here to hell

If I hadn't heard those kids laugh playing games
I'd have nervous fits, I'd go insane
I'd turpentine cats and tin can dogs
I'd smother people to death inside of hollow logs

If the people around me wasn't so nice
I'd freeze my heart into a cake of ice
Steal money from soldiers and working folks too
I'd lend you a dollar and take back two

If my wife didn't kiss me the way she does
I'd carry four or five daggers and three or four guns
I'd shoot craps and ramble and hang out late
I'd steal baby buggies and Cadillac Eights

If my friends didn't write me those letters I get
I'd be a dictator, the worse one yet
I'd be the only smart bird, you'd all be fools
Send you all away to war and I'd stay home and rule

If it wasn't for them songs I hear you all sing
I'd put a crown on my dome and I'd say I'm your king
I'd kidnap some and blackmail others
I'd peddle black market stuff and rob sisters and brothers

If it weren't for your talking I hear on the street
I'd be the orneriest man that you ever did meet
I'd preach the gospel of hate and I'd drink your blood
But I can't be this bad because my folks are too good

. . .



Black wind blowing in the cotton field, honey
There's a black wind blowing in the cotton field, baby
There's a black wind blowing in the cotton field
And oh how funny it makes me feel
Baby, sweet thing, darling

There's a long black cloud hanging in the sky, honey
There's a long black cloud hanging in the sky, baby
There's a long black cloud hanging in the sky
Weather's gonna break and hells gonna fly
Baby, sweet thing, darling

Cotton's pretty thin yonder on the hill, honey
Cotton's pretty thin yonder on the hill, baby
Cotton's pretty thin yonder on the hill
It won't clear a greenback dollar bill
Baby, sweet thing, darling

Work shade and back to the buzzard wing, honey
Work shade and back to the buzzard wing, baby
Work shade and back to the buzzard wing
Clouds are gonna bust and cry down rain
Baby, sweet thing, darling

There's a black wind blowing in the cotton field, honey
There's a black wind blowing in the cotton field, baby
There's a black wind blowing in the cotton field
And oh how funny it makes me feel

. . .



Someday some morning sometime, sometime
I'd like to hold your hand in mine
Someday some morning sometime

I'd like to tell you you're pretty and fine
Your face will smile and your eyes will shine
Someday some morning sometime

I'll build you a house all covered in vines
I'll bring you a nickel, I'll bring you a dime
Someday some morning sometime

Five six seven and eight oh nine
I'll take you down where the birds fly by

. . .


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