by thelastclarissa

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released September 6, 2013




thelastclarissa Massachusetts

i am in the process of rebranding

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Track Name: Young Man in America (Anaïs Mitchell)
My mother gave a mighty shout
Opened her legs and let me out
Hungry as a prairie dog
Young man in America
Young man in America
Hungry, hungry
Runnin' every which way
Young man in America

And I come out like a cannonball
Come of age of alcohol
Raven in a field of rye
With a black and rovin' eye
Black and rovin' eye
Ravenous, ravenous
What you got's not enough
Young man in America

O shelter
Mother Shelter
Mother shelter us

My father was a lord o' land
My daddy was a repo man
Put me out onto the street
Didn't give a damn for me
Did not give a damn
Daddy, daddy
Gonna wish you never had me
I'm a young man

I'm growin' right before your eyes
I might grow to such a size
Blowin' like a hurricane
Everyone'll know my name
Everyone'll know my name
Blowin' in, blowin' out
Shadow on a mountaintop
Young man in America

O shepherd
Father Shepherd
Father shepherd us

In my feathers and furs
Clothes of many colors
Many men will envy me
When I'm in my finery
Me in my finery
Envy me, envy me
Spendin' all my bright money
Young man in America

Maybe I can climb the stairs
With a girl with golden hair
Hold her like a sword and shield
Up against this lonely world
Up against the world
It's a lonely, lonely world
For a yellow-headed girl
And a young man

Like the wind I make my moan
A howl in the canyon
There's a hollow in my bones
Make me cry and carry on
Make the foam fly from my tongue
Make me want what I want
Another wayward son
Waitin' on Oblivion

Waitin' on a kingdom come to meet me in my sin
Waitin' to be born again
Mother kiss me cheek and chin
Mmm, a little medicine
Mmm, and then I shed my skin
Mmm, and let me climb back in the bed you made me in
Track Name: The Abortion (Anne Sexton)
[I did not write these.]

Somebody who should have been born
is gone.

Just as the earth puckered its mouth,
each bud puffing out from its knot,
I changed my shoes, and then drove south.

Up past the Blue Mountains, where
Pennsylvania humps on endlessly,
wearing, like a crayoned cat, its green hair,

its roads sunken in like a gray washboard;
where, in truth, the ground cracks evilly,
a dark socket from which the coal has poured,

Somebody who should have been born
is gone.

the grass as bristly and stout as chives,
and me wondering when the ground would break,
and me wondering how anything fragile survives;

up in Pennsylvania, I met a little man,
not Rumpelstiltskin, at all, at all...
he took the fullness that love began.

Returning north, even the sky grew thin
like a high window looking nowhere.
The road was as flat as a sheet of tin.

Somebody who should have been born
is gone.

Yes, woman, such logic will lead
to loss without death. Or say what you meant,
you coward...this baby that I bleed.
Track Name: Game Shows Touch Our Lives (The Mountain Goats)
dug up a fifth of hood river gin,
and that stuff tastes like medicine
but i'll take it, it'll do.
on the couch in the living room all day long,
music on the television playing our song.
i'm in the mood,
the mood for you.

turn the volume up real high,
all of that money, look at it fly.
and you smoking like a chimney.
shadows crawled across the living-room's length,
i held onto you with a desperate strength, with everything. with everything in me.

i handed you a drink of the lovely little thing on which our survival depends .
people say friends don't destroy one another, what do they know about friends?

thunder clouds forming, cream white moon, everything's gonna be okay soon.
maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day.

carried you up the stairs that night,
all of this could be yours, if the price is right.
i heard cars headed down to oblivion on the expressway.

your drunken kiss is as light as the air,
maybe everything that falls down, eventually rises.
our house sinking into disrepair,
i would look at this showroom filled with fabulous prizes.
Track Name: Old Maid in the Garrett (Traditional Irish Folk Song)
Now I've often heard it said from my father and my mother
That going to a wedding was the makings of another
Well, if this be so, then I'll go without a biddance
Oh kind providence, won't you send me to a wedding

And it's oh, dear me, how would it be
If I died an old maid in the garrett?

Well, now there's my sister Jean, she's not handsome or good-looking
Scarcely fifteen and a fellow she was courting
Now, she's twenty-four with a son and a daughter
Here am I at forty-five and I've never had an offer

I can cook and I can sew, I can keep the house right tidy
And wake up in the morning to get the breakfast ready
There's nothing in this wide world would make me half so cheery
As a wee, fat man who would call me his own deary

So come landsman or come kingsman, come tinker or come tailor
Come fiddler or come dancer, come ploughboy or come sailor
Come rich man, come poor man, come bore or come witty
Come any man at all who will marry me for pity

Well, now I the way home, for nobody's heeding
Oh, nobody's heeding to poor Annie's bleeding
So, I the way home to my own pity garret
If I can't have a man, then I'll have to get a parrot