1. |
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The whippoorwill stands in the shadows of the dusk
Can't spread her wings cause she's stuck in the dust
With broken dreams she closes her eyes
She sings her last song in a world full of lies
Look at the stars
The lights and the cars
There's nothing but fun
In the California sun
When she comes down that mountain with a head full of done
Ascend and descend this cycle she'll run
Feet on the edge there's a thousand feet to the ground
Will the world even notice if she's not around
Look at the stars
The lights and the cars
There's nothing but fun
In the California sun
The whippoorwill spreads her wings and flies
The pain will subside when the body dies
Fly whippoorwill go fly
Fly whippoorwill go and fly
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2. |
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I
I’m going down to California
Then just gonna turn around and come back home
I’m going down to California
Then just gonna turn around and come back home
There ain’t nothing waiting for me there
I just got that nagging, sickly urge to roam
II
I’ma stop off in Virginia
And pawn this old monkey suit
I’ma stop off in Virginia
And pawn my grandpa’s monkey suit
Or maybe trade it in for something keen
Like a rhinestone covered parachute
III
I’m gonna cross that Mississippi
But I ain’t a-gonna pay no toll
I’m gonna cross that Mississippi
But I ain’t a-gonna pay no toll
Because salvation don’t cost nothing
And a ferry ride can’t be worth more than a soul
IV
I’m cuttin’ across Kansas
Gonna think bout things I seen on trains
Cuttin’ across Kansas
Think bout things I’ve seen on trains
I might head up Seattle
See if I can stomach all them rains
V
You know that brunette girl in A Hard Days Night?
She’s one of them schoolgirls on the train
You know that brunette bird in A Hard Days Night?
She’s one of them schoolgirls on the train
I always thought she was right pretty
Where as Pattie Boyd looks kinda plain
VI
I’m going down to California
Then I’m gonna turn right back around
I’m going down to California
Then I’m gonna turn right back around
I ain’t even gonna cross the state line
Ain’t never gonna touch California ground
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3. |
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i once hoped and cried
til all the good guys died
And the reel had been burned to the end
With a lance and a whip
I drove an ancient clipper ship
the seas were all smokey and grey
I soared and I Swayed
though California
All the neighbors and the waiters were rude
they would smile they would shine
I would render them divine
with all of the riches they had accrued
So clean me out deliver me from doubt
Take my bread and all of my fuel
Some called me by my first name for a while
some called me Mother's saddest fool
And I swore I'd head east
into that belly of the beast
where the Krakens and devilish did lay
and if they awoke
I swore I'd strap them with my yoke
and they would drag me to safety one day
So play with me now show me up and take a bow
Challenge me to a warrior's duel
just call me by my first name for a while
just call me Mother's saddest fool
I dreamed in bed
I was Martin Luther's head
The visions and techings were real
I cursed his White hand
and believers throughout the land
as they deprived me of my final meal
For I knew what I'd heard
and what I'd seen from it all
yet no one would ever comprehend
With files I did rake
But I made a Minotaur's mistake
As I left it behind in the end
So clean me out and cover me in doubt
Take my bread and all of my fuel
Some called me by my first name for a while
some called me Mother's saddest fool
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4. |
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All my middle-age middle-class white guys
Burning it down with acoustic guitars
Raise your Townes Van Zandt and your Isbell box sets, wave 'em in the air like a hipster's prayer, like you still care
You grew up on the streets of Buena Vista
With your Rush cassettes and your Mr. Mister
But no one really fights for the
Average guy these days
So you lift your voice in the wilderness
Find the closest micropub on your GPS
Cause the world needs to know
'Bout the one that got away
Yeah, I know; no one buys CD's
Your Spotify royalties, just a tease
And you're wondering where you gonna get your next big sushi meal
And no one's writing real country songs
But you grew up with Foreigner, singing along
To "Double Vision," you're fishing,
For something kinda real
And the only ones who listen to
your kind of music are the
Other guys making the same kind of music in their
basement, with GarageBand
You can stream it by tonight on SoundCloud.
And no one wants to pay anything but exposure
But if we do a full financial disclosure
How many white guys singing "Wagon Wheel" makes a crowd?
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5. |
Joshua West - On hold
02:50
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6. |
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Hit the road no more waiting
West coast keeps calling my name and
Never had a single doubt
Hold on to music it will all work out
Oh look out oh they try to scare ya
Have a fall back plan or don't dare ta
Follow your dreams o let me warn ya
I believe in California
Left on canuga, down the Sunset strip
Wake up early for a one way trip
Each day more sunny than the next
We're living day to day nothing else is left
Don't look now big break coming
Don't look down this places humming
I see it now but I wouldn't have warned ya
I remember California
And know I'm writing this open letter
To ask questions not try to teach
My lessons learned but Id never have known it
Too hard headed too far outta reach
I remember California
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7. |
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"Operator Unknown"
Every day he'd wake up
and dream till the sun went down
Cigarettes and whiskey dusk
Ounce by ounce, pound for pound
They used to call him California
Always wanted to get away
To find some gold and a girl to hold
Far from the Bluegrass State
There's no room for a dreamer
At the bottom of the mines
Slow death in excess if you make it that long
Blue flame from a copper line
Seemed more like the thing to do
Than to waste away in a grave
Digging in the hills
For someone else's golden chain
Saving for a rainy day's
an easy thing to do
The devil gets his six days in
before the dawn of Sunday's dew
Brown leather bag is all he had
Planned to take from here
Paper stacks never looking back
Train to commandeer
The west coast was calling
Like the sirens' seductive song
One more day to clean the sinners' plates
Didn't seem like too long
Last sunrise in the holler
Just past the whistle moan
He met the eye of a Colt .45
Operator unknown
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Monday Morning 3AM Music Club Winston Salem, North Carolina
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