Constellations

horoTrace the stars
Draw your path
Walk in the shapes
of Constellations
Tell everyone
That you’re wandering
aimless
Don’t let on the plan
Don’t let on…

Make your bed
Of grass and gravel
Sleep in the peace
of Constellations
Tell everyone
That they’re rich and
they’re famous
Don’t let on the plan
Don’t let on…

I’d get high
But I’m afraid of heights
I’d get high
I wobble when I drive
And my heart is
made of Styrofoam
It’s been packaged
Just for you

Talk with the stars
Make a promise
To live in the loft
of Infatuation
Tell my everything
Where your wandering
Mind Is
Tell me the plan
Tell me…

(august 1993)
© Robert Emmett McWhorter
published by Hermetic
Medical Records (ASCAP)

Jalapeño Bridge


        Labrador 03.10.08 Elbo Room
Space is nothing,
when youve nothing left to face
I cant take what
we pass off as boredom

Standing before you
But after the laughter
is the crying shame
Another game we gotta play

A secret for two is a story
And our story’s all over the world
You can do anything

Feeling nothing,greenguywhen you’ve nothing left to give
I cant think of anything
to say to you

Standing before me
But after hours the powers
too strong to shake
Another cake we gotta eat

You can do anything

© Robert Emmett McWhorter
published by Hermetic
Medical Records (ASCAP)

Snakepig


Mosquitohead ‘Biddy Mulligans’ 12.03.93It’s creepy,
It’s crawling on your wall.
And spanning your space,
To get in your face,
It’s a snakepig.

It walks up your alleys
At half speed.
It’s breathing your air,
Before you can get it,
It’s a snakepig.

Slither down ’til I have no more
Left to give.

It’s sleeping on slivers
In the back.
It’s dreaming your nickels,
Spit-shine your disease,
It’s a snakepig.

It thinks up all the thinking
Beforehand.
It’s drinking your dreams,
To spit them in your face,
It’s a snakepig.

Put it together,
What ever way you can.
Check it with the Weather Man,
See whether or not you can.

Slither down ’til I have no more
Left to give.

It’s a snakepig.

© Robert Emmett McWhorter
published by Hermetic
Medical Records (ASCAP)

The End of the World Song

(April 1993)

Up on the Fourth Floor

Mosquitohead- Biddy Mulligans- 12.03.93
I drank a cup of coffee,
And tried to avoid
Writing this Song.

A fan in the Window,
An Empty Pack of Smokes,
An Empty Daydream
Carries me away.

And I can go on and on
And on and on and on,
But no one is listening
To this song.

Sat on your sofa,
Saw that look in your eyes,
Like something has to be
Happening somewhere

Through several doorways,
A million stair cases,
A million staring eyes
Carry me Away.

It’s only a song,
It’s not like it’s the End of the World.
It’s only the End of the World,
It’s no excuse to write a song.

Up in the evening,
I went to sleep at dawn,
And tried to avoid
Losing this buzz (zzz).

Awoke with a feeling,
That far away look,
A million staring eyes
To carry me away.

And I can go on and on
and on and on and on,
But noone is listening to this song.

© Robert Emmett McWhorter
Published by Hermetic Medical Records (ASCAP)