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about

Written 8/92, recorded 11/93, remixed in 4/12.

This song originated as a mostly solo studio effort with a lot of bells and whistles that was released on the first MayTricks album. In developing it for my solo set, I moved it into a higher key to make it easier to sing, and I worked out how with just my voice and guitar to make the various sections sound different even though the song is very musically repetitive.

...And yes, this is the source of the line "the sinking and the aftermath" which I then turned into the title of a later album.

lyrics

While still in Waygo
I dusted my eyes
And pulled out the wolves with my fingers
And tasted their lies

It started to hit me
That clandestine light
And sooner than angels
I spoke to the night

I knew of the wall phone
I'd heard of the thing that shows your face
I wanted to use them
To push my way through miles of open space

I could feel myself ticking
And I knew that before the year was out
I'd be able to tell you, really tell you
What this scratching's all about

Just a feeling of something semi-charged
With a mixture of nothing, glee, and lust
Pushed its way to my window, through and over
See me submit myself to trust

Someone's bleeding me somewhere
But it's easy to see that I don't care
'Cause I know what's the matter with my thinking.
I've been over it far and long enough to dare

To say nothing in defense o
What I am or I've become
To malign this a testing, or an epitaph,
Or a sinking and the aftermath

Now I'm gone
One more catch phrase done
Sing a symbol to calm you with my thinking
To let you know you've won

But you could try fishing
Or spackle the den
Get rid of your hunger
And count up to ten

Or you could try nothing
And just let me in
Kiss me in effigy, darlin'
Don't stop to begin

Babe, you are my godhead
And I am your son
Let's live the disguised and decayed inner meaning
Of some perversion

While still in Waygo
I dusted my eyes G
And sooner than angels
I said my goodbyes

credits

from Spanish Armada (Songs of Love and Related Neuroses), released December 20, 1993

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Mark Lint Madison, Wisconsin

Catchy, homespun tunes ranging in style from power pop to folk ballads to alt country, laced with a sense of the absurd.

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