Like a mortal wound or a voyage across the sea Like a salamander or a bowl of ice cream Like a Halloween pumpkin that hung out to dry Like a fire hydrant in your eye I haven't said a word to anyone And I haven't been to town since I was young And you've planted a seed in the deepest part of me And I must say that being with you's fun My juggling act could use a little work And I keep a loaded gun in my purse And I think it's fun to sit behind the catcher's mitt And I'd like to join you if you're off to church Sit and drink candy on the pier

I want a walkie-talkie that matches yours To use in a boat or a tree If I'm in Connecticutt and you're in Colorado, call for me And all the air that separates will fill with waves While one's at Golden Gate, the other's watching the Braves No tightrope keeps the bike of my voice from the sight Of your ears, nor the truck your words drive from here As I hear, buy some beers on the way to where we are

Well, not long ago in a town this size, Down south where the birds stay warm, Lived a man named Sherwood, Who handled odd jobs good and used to could Cause kids all quite a stir throughout our neighborhood See, Sherwood was the kind of guy Who'd look ol' Sanity in the eye And say "Believe you're trespassing, boy," Then he'd grab his rusty pellet gun And pelt it off while all we'd run, Right fearing he might kill us with that toy Yes, one cold night in a town this size, Down south where the birds stay warm, Al Norris was taking his garbage out in a rainstorm, And what'd he see but ol' Sherwood Barefoot Lyin' on the ground spread eagle with his arms stretched out, 'Neath a ride mower mounted on cinder blocks, No doubt just lookin' at how the sucker run Or maybe just lyin' out for some ol' fun: Sherwood often was In a perplexing place or posture to be found We marked our calendars every week: One year Sherwood fancied take a car paintin' streak, And sure as his name was Sherwood Barefoot, Me and Al Norris saw those hub caps painted, too-- The front ones red, like the old Barefoot truck, The rear left green, he said, for good luck, And the right found Sherwood dippin' his last can of blue Now I don't recall ever utterin' the words "Amateur taxidermy" any time in life Except when describing Sherwood Barefoot None of them fancy raccoons or rabbits, mind you See, Sherwood was a fishin' man too, And the town's tour included only fairly 'fore 'twas through A good look at the Barefoot household mantles' Fish heads with sunglasses. You ask anyone who knew ol' Sherwood Barefoot personal What they remember the most about the legacy he'd tote, And I guarantee sure as you can hear me There's 3 things any right-minded sould would note: 1) Sherwood's moonshine business drew in some bait money when there weren't no fences or engines needed repair; 2) that amidst the regular car color changes showed sore-thumb style the Barefoot house's siding, which some unsuspecting greenhouse came to spare, and 3) most tragically-- the last lesson that old Sherwood 'forded all that ever hear the story of Sherwood Barefoot, and let seep into their souls what enrichin' buds of wisdom and charity he may leave behind, even as his kind hands reached out giving every day he lived-- at least in his own way: Don't never make a barn collapse a one-man task There's always gents who'd lend some muscle-- Don't be scared to ask 'Cause as we see in the times and deeds . That Sherwood laid plain-- All the painin' and fishin' and shootin' And brewin' and shoutin' out Went silent on that day Our hearts felt that Barefoot-sized pain Sherwood grabbed his trusty sledge hammer 'Thout nary a warn An' he toted it on his shoulder to the middle of the barn Looked the center beam square, spat in hands, Made a squinter...and sure enough, Sherwood Barefoot fell quiet under a big pile of splinters. So next time you're givin' A new breed a' moonshine the taste test, Drink to Sherwood, say the wods "remember the cap gun," And wish him the best.

andre.W: bass, guitar, spoken, noise Sissy Pearl: chatter music and spoken: improvised recorded at Glengate

Corn in the butter way, shoo fly shoo, skip to my Lou And we say Fee fi fiddley eye oh on such a winter's day Gum in the ash tray way, shoo fly shoe... And we say someone's in the kitchen with Nathaniel Someone's in the kitchen with Franc Someone's in the kitchen with Fanuel Grabbin' at the wheel for a honk

Don't like being treated by a pre-school kid Wanna feed them a staple sandwich Drinking NyQuil on the phone to a homerec drone Eat Cheez Whiz through a straw, Don't mean I'm a tart, eh? I put midgets in the salt and pepper shakers They play the bongos so 'Congo' scared my coffee-drinking cat so Blowing up bubbles on the radio Speakers made of tin So flip it over for a barbecue radio if you feel like it Jelly was a nit-wit twin cracker wins the bob round the dilly-o Pickles spent oh the wary time washer tellin' Jelly played bingo

C'est tres important se brosser les dents touts les jours Et apres TO FLOSS, que dit moi; suis le BOSS, mais, bien surs Quand je brosse les dents, voila: je me sent meilleur C'est tres important se brosser les dents touts les jours

Welcome all to Wrinkle World We just found an iron and we can't plug it in

Elizabeth makes square cakes in a two-inch tangle pan She pinches them and prunes them for her understanding man She puts one on the catapult and points it toward his wall Converts the torque to metric-- bricks are seven meters tall Torrence takes a trolley of amoebas to the zoo He feeds them cotton candy that he's scraped off from his shoe And nothing makes a timid micro-organism squeal So much as stories past of breakdowns told atop the ferris wheel Dave has shied from socks since the union workers' strike He's cutting boots from foil in preparing for a hike A possum falls into his lap, its dying wish to be Converted to an ornament hung boot-wrapped from the tree

I see the woman that I love She's standing on the carpet She's got a flowered dress on And she's holding a ribbon Like shampoo to the eyes, my love brings french fries And then I take her hand so we can walk to Japan

Shuttle totes a Christmas tree to Venus Where we're havin' a picnic Take my hand when I've hopped upon Our steel space steed This I hope won't make you feel car sick Jelly beans smack your eyes With the noon tide (on New York time) Open your mouth and it sounds like a chime Stop on a nickel Dessert's a space pickle Toast a comet with two lagers and lime

Crawl my dears in caramel boots to the cocoa cove Or you can butterscotch board Few of the sweets are 'semi-' Swim with a fudge duck horde P.B. prechipitated by the sweet slate minute Trees swing breaking your jaw We're falling in it Pita nugget's a hammock Sugar dreams stream within it

I love my kitty cat I feed him Kit Kat from the table I let him wear my hat when we go for a walk He's so fun! He likes to play games in the sun Like Monopoly-- we play it on the driveway He's so fun that he pats my head Even though most people pat their kitty's heads, My kitty pats my head Instead of making him eat a rat, We make friends with the rat and let him join We're playing board games in the summer time Feed him chocolate at the table Beat him at Monopoly whenever I'm able Know we're gonna grow old together I love my kitty cat