The Noble Lie

All you folks think you own my life
But you never made any sacrifice
Demons they are on my trail
I’m standing at the crossroads of hell
I look to the left, I look to the right
Hands that grab me on every side

All you folks think I got my price
At which I’ll sell all that is mine
You think money rules when all else fails
Go sell your soul and keep your shell
I’m trying to protect what I keep inside
All the reasons why I live my life

Some say the devil be a mystical thing
I say the devil he a walking man
He a fool he a liar conjurer and a thief
He try to tell you what you want
Try to tell you what you need

Standing at the point
The road it cross you down
What is at your back
Which way do you turn
Who will come to find you first
Your devils or your gods

All you folks think you run my life
Say I should be willing to compromise
I say all you demons go back to hell
I’ll save my soul, save myself

He’s five foot-two, and he’s six feet-four,
He fights with missiles and with spears.
He’s all of thirty-one, and he’s only seventeen,
Been a soldier for a thousand years.

He’a a Catholic, a Hindu, an Atheist, a Jain,
A Buddhist and a Baptist and a Jew.
And he knows he shouldn’t kill,
And he knows he always will,
Kill you for me my friend and me for you.

And he’s fighting for Canada,
He’s fighting for France,
He’s fighting for the USA,
And he’s fighting for the Russians,
And he’s fighting for Japan,
And he thinks we’ll put an end to war this way.

And he’s fighting for Democracy,
He’s fighting for the Reds,
He says it’s for the peace of all.
He’s the one who must decide,
Who’s to live and who’s to die,
And he never sees the writing on the wall.

But without him,
How would Hitler have condemned him at Dachau?
Without him Caesar would have stood alone,
He’s the one who gives his body
As a weapon of the war,
And without him all this killing can’t go on.

He’s the Universal Soldier and he really is to blame,
His orders come from far away no more,
They come from here and there and you and me,
And brothers can’t you see,
This is not the way we put the end to war.

(Credit to malekanoms for the best YouTube video ever)

I pulled into Nazareth, I was feelin’ about half past dead
I just need some place where I can lay my head
“Hey mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?”
He just grinned and shook my hand, and “no” was all he said

Take a load off Fannie, take a load for free
Take a load off Fannie, and, and, and you put the load right on me

I picked up my bag, I went lookin’ for a place to hide
When I saw Carmen and the Devil walkin’ side by side
I said, “Hey, Carmen, come on, let’s go downtown”
She said, “I gotta go, but my friend can stick around”

Take a load off Fannie, take a load for free
Take a load off Fannie, and, and, and you put the load right on me

Crazy Chester followed me, and he caught me in the fog
He said, “I will fix your rags, if you’ll take Jack, my dog”
I said, “Wait a minute, Chester, you know I’m a peaceful man”
He said, “That’s okay, boy, won’t you feed him when you can”

Take a load off Fannie, take a load for free
Take a load off Fannie, and, and, and you put the load right on me

Catch a cannonball now, to take me down the line
My bag is sinkin’ low and I do believe it’s time
To get back to Miss Fannie, you know she’s the only one
Who sent me here with her regards for everyone

Take a load off Fannie, take a load for free
Take a load off Fannie, and, and, and you put the load right on me

Speaking of Firehouse, Bohemian Grove opens up for business this evening, thanks HighBoldtage. Around this time last year, Humboldt County was graced with the presence of King Abdullah II of Jordan, whose motorcycle entorage closed down a local inn before his crew ended up in the same place as George W. Bush, in a little county south of us, just in time for last year’s Bohemian Grove festivities.

Oddfellows local 151 behind the firehouse
Where Peewee sits to prove a sage to teach
Peewee gathered up his proof
Reached up and scratched his head
Fell down and hit the ground again

Firehouse, firehouse

Why do the heathens rage behind the firehouse
Where Peewee sits upon the wall to preach?
This boy and girl that gather pearls
Of wisdom falling from his mouth
Wash off the blood, wash off the rum

Firehouse, firehouse

Oddfellows local 151 behind the firehouse
Where Peewee sits upon the wall to preach
This boy and girl that gather pearls
Of wisdom falling from his mouth
Wash off the blood, wash off the 151

Firehouse, firehouse
Firehouse, firehouse

Frank Black (Pixies, Frank Black and the Catholics) sings about the Indian Island Massacre, when the Wiyot tribe was almost eradicated and the local (pro-business, pro-logging) papers called them a bunch of savages that deserved to die. It took a courageous writer to really break the story, who was driven out to San Francisco.

The Wiyot now are small in number, and struggling to hold onto their traditions, but their voice is still strong. In recent years, the city of Eureka has returned the sacred Indian Island ceremonial ground to the Wiyot.

The Wiyot threw their shells away
Until that pile became a mound
And that became their hallowed ground
On an island in what became Humboldt Bay

Then there came some prominent men
From New England and Maritimes
They sold the island to a German
But even Robert Gunter found it was a crime

Robert Gunther found the Wiyot dead
Axes cut them to the bones
They didn’t know the county paper said
That splitting skulls in Humboldt was a rite de passage

The people sided with the axemen toughs
The criticizers they were all run off
They called Eureka Murderville
For the children, women, old men that were killed

And in the sky above that town
A cloud of steam makes it seem darker
They didn’t even put a marker
Near the papermill and shanty oh so brown

Robert Gunter found the Wiyot dead
Axes cut them to the bones
They didn’t know the county paper said
That splitting skulls in Humboldt was a rite de passage
That crossing the bar was a rite de passage

These mist covered mountains
Are a home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be
Some day you’ll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you’ll no longer burn
To be brothers in arms

Through these fields of destruction
Baptisms of fire
I’ve watched all your suffering
As the battles raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms

There’s so many different worlds
So many differents suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones

Now the sun’s gone to hell
And the moon’s riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But it’s written in the starlight
And every line on your palm
We’re fools to make war
On our brothers in arms

Put your hands on the wheel
Let the golden age begin
Let the windows down
Feel the moonlight on your skin
Let the desert wind
Cool your aching head
Let the weight of the world
Drift away instead

These days, I barely get by
I don’t even try

It’s a treacherous road
With a desolated view
There’s distant lights
But here they’re far and few
And the sun don’t shine
Even when it’s day
You gotta drive all night
Just to feel like you’re ok

These days, I barely get by
I don’t even try

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V606O0FEa18

The quickening is an ephemeral thing
That only happens in the dark
Like catching lightning in a jar
And the pain that it brings
Is just the promise of spring
It’s madness on the way
Oh, what does it mean
To come alive?

The entering is soulful conjecturing
Lost and by the wind-grieved coast
Please come back to me again
Because the way that she bleeds
Is in the law that he reads
Confusing words and deeds
So what does it mean
To come alive?

To pierce the fame of the sacred and profane
For science, in service of the faith
But who will bear the mark of Cain?

Hang your collar up inside
Hang your dollar on me
Listen to the water still
Listen to the cause where you are
Fed and educated,
Primitive and wild
Welcome to the occupation

Here we stand and here we fight
All your fallen heroes
Held and dyed and skinned alive
Listen to the Congress fire
Offering the educated
Primitive and loyal
Welcome to the occupation

Hang your collar up inside
Hang your freedom higher
Listen to the buyer still
Listen to the Congress
Where we propagate confusion
Primitive and wild
Fire on the hemisphere below

Sugar cane and coffee cup
Copper, steel, and cattle
An annotated history
The forest for the fire
Where we open up the floodgates
Freedom reigns supreme
Fire on the hemisphere below

Listen to me

As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don’t hate nothing at all
Except hatred.

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It’s easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.

An’ though the rules of the road have been lodged
It’s only people’s games that you got to dodge
And it’s alright, Ma, I can make it.

Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you’re the one
That can do what’s never been done
That can win what’s never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.

You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.

A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.