BALLAD OF FLORIDA :
There's nothing left of me
I gave it all away
I left in a beach
and it washed out with the waves
I laid it on a chair in Florida somewhere
I threw it in the air
and the clouds walked over me
I threw it in the air
maybe near the bird on roller skates
The clouds walked over me
The clouds walked over me
I gave it all away
I left in on a chair
It washed out with the waves
There's nothing left of me
I gave it all away
I threw it in the air
and the clouds walked over me
[Bob Holman speaks]
Nah, the chair dont rock and the swing dont swing. And I can see most anything in the horn blast when the present collides with my face. The collision of place and memory, thats my face, I'd say. River, a river of stone, stream and course, a drift over the rise, and my sweet honey riding my arm, a patch of song a shard of the past, a wound in my side and a kiss on the face of time itself. This is progress, and these here photos of Jack and the General I tacked up, ah, dont get me started! Like those were the days of nonstop, kid... vision, utopia... words. Those were days of gold flowing black shiny concrete building the land itself. Speed limits hell, a time of speed without limit, of time without end, just like the river that flowed out back by the porch, the rails that sang over the bridge, the highway that started in the backyard and rolled out, a prescient shadow, a mole with a soul.
MONTANA :
[Jane Bom-Bane sings]
In the state of Montana
in the Year of the Ford Nineteen hundred & fifty-four
people are leaving
they're driving all night
Women are crying
they're frozen in light
And we roll on the river
Our river is black
Our river is deep
Headlights and moonlight, a space full of grief
Secrets and heartaches must carry the load
The heart of the thing is the thing we don't know
And we roll out the barrel
Lo and behold, the night is too long
Anchored in sorrow
afraid of the dawn
nobody changes
the truth is all gone
Bosses have said, Everybody must go.
And we roll on the ribbons of our dreams
[David Thomas adds]
I read the rear view
I read the face of the refugee I see
What's there to stop for? I say to him
What's there to see that can't be passed by along the road to e-ter-ni-tee?
Honey, I say, Honey, we're gonna drive like there's no tomorrow
There is no tomorrow.
They used up tomorrow
