Tape from California

Lyrics

Who's that coming down the road, a sailor from the sea
He looks a lot like me!
I'd know him anywhere
I had to stare
Feathers at his fingertips
A halo 'round his spine
He must have lost his mind
He should be put away, right away
In the corner of the night, he handed me his water pipe
His eyes were searching deep inside my head
Here's what he said:

Chorus:
"Sorry I can't stop and talk now
I'm in kind of a hurry, anyhow
But I'll send you a tape from California"

New York City has exploded and it's crashed upon my head
I dove beneath the bed, fighting biting nails, turning pale
The landlord's at my window and the burglar's at my door
I can't take it anymore, I guess I'll have to fly, it's worth a try
Someone's banging on the wall but there's no party to recall
The singer of the shadows of his soul, so he's been told

Chorus

From the mirror of my mantel to the velvet of my vest
Trapped upon a stolen stage, a Barrymore at best
My rhymes are all repeating
My ballads growing blind
My words have turned to water
The women turn to wine

The draft board is debating if they'd like to take my life
I'd sooner take a wife and raise a child or two, wouldn't you?
Peace has turned to poison, and the flag has blown a fuse
Even courage is confused, and now all the brave are in the grave
The century is bending, have a very happy ending
To the victor go the ashes of the spoils, the seeds in the soil

Chorus

The Flower Power Fuller Brushman's farming out his friends
I stabbed him and my stem, and then I tapped his toes with my rose
He crawled around inside himself; now he's crawling after me
Dropping acid in my tea
He wants to save my soul with rock 'n' roll
One of us must understand it's not the drug that makes the man
Then a poster of a movie star walked by he must have been high

Chorus

Half the world is crazy, the other half is scared
Madonnas do the minuet for naked millionaires
The anarchists are rising, while we're racing for the moon
It doesn't take a seer to see the scene is coming soon

So who's that coming down the road, a sailor from the sea
He looks a lot like me; I'd know him anywhere--I had to stare
Now a fire 'round his finger tips; a song around his spine
He must have found his mind; he should be put away anyway
Surrounded by the slaughter, now I'm boarding at the border
When the echoes of my ecstasy appear, wish I was here

Chorus

Notes

(C) Copyright 1968 BARRICADE MUSIC, INC., New York, N.Y.