wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
o, what a panic's in thy breastie!
thou need na start awa sae hasty
wi bickering brattle!
i wad be lauth to rin an' chase thee,
wi' murdering pattle.

i'm truly sorry man's dominion
has broken nature's social union,
an' justifies that ill opinion
which makes thee startle
at me, thy poor, earth born companion
an' fellow mortal!

i doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
what then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
a daimen icker in a thrave
's a sma' request;
i'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
an' never miss't

thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
it's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
an' naething, now, to big a new ane,
o' foggage green!
an' bleak december's win's ensuin,
baith snell an' keen!

thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
an' weary winter comin fast,
an' cozie here, beneath the blast,
thou thought to dwell,
till crash! the cruel coulter past
out throu' thy cell.

that wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble,
but house or hald,
to thole the winter's sleety dribble,
an cranreuch cauld.

but mousie, thou are no thy lane,
in proving foresight may be vain:
the best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
gang aft agley
an' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
for promis'd joy!

still thou are blest, compared wi' me!
the present only toucheth thee:
but och! i backwards cast m e'e,
on prospects drear!
an' forward, tho' i canna see,
i guess an' fear!



oh, satellite comes and goes
we give each other all we know
in silence we still talk
by the light of the stereo waltz
and will you rain down,
in your cinematic love truck?
i wanna hold you
like nothing's gonna stop us

flicker on a tv screen
everything's more than it seems
mighty backward fall
stare at the light on the wall
and i swear to this:
she felt like velvet
second blonde child
felt like velvet

and she comes to take me away
it's all that i needed
i don't need another lover, lover

i'm an alien,
you're an alien
it's a beautiful rain

oh, she come around again



you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack
you may find yourself in another part of the world
you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
you may find yourself in a beautiful house with a beautiful wife
you may ask yourself, 'well, how did i get here?'

you may ask yourself, 'how do i work this?'
you may ask yourself, 'where is that large automobile?
you may tell yourself, 'this is not my beautiful house'
you may tell yourself, 'this is not my beautiful wife'

water dissolving and water removing
there is water at the bottom of the ocean
remove the water, carry the water
remove the water from the bottom of the ocean

you may ask yourself, 'what is that beautiful house?'
you may ask yourself, 'where does that highway lead to?'
you may ask yourself, 'where does that highway lead to?
you may ask yourself, 'my god, what have i done?'

letting the days go by, let the water hold me down
letting the days go by, water flowing underground
into the blue again, after the money's gone
once in a lifetime, water flowing underground
into the blue again, into silent water
under the rocks and stones, there is water underground
letting the days go by, into silent water
once in a lifetime, water flowing underground
same as it ever was

time isn't holding us, time isn't after us
time isn't holding us, time doesn't hold you back
time isn't holding us, time isn't after us
time isn't holding us...
letting the days go by



a rant and rage in four acts

movement 1 — people
people are invariably the most irritating part about rainstorms
they always act like it's the end of their existence
because getting wet is SUCH the tragedy
god forbid your hair get frizzy,
or your dress shirt get wrinkled
also, they automatically start bitching about the weather,
and it's always really loud and whiny
like i give a shit about how much you don't like precipitation
if you were smart and paid attention to the forecasts
you'd know that clouds are a–comin' and a storm's a–brewin'
and, generally while being whining like pissy kindergartner,
they start run–walking [or actually running] out of the rain
that's actually funny to me, not annoying
watching white people run is always funny
especially when they're ill–suited to do so
portly men in badly–proportioned suits are normally funny
but in a dead sprint, they're fucking comedy gold
but that's only if they don't have their protection with them
which leads to...

entr'acte — umbrellas
there is no crueler invention for city life than umbrellas
granted, they are a moderately–convenient invention
especially when keeping your upper half pristine is important
but they are more than just an irritation for the rest of us
they can be downright life–threatening
consider the following example:
it's starting to drizzle a little bit, not really that hard
a small woman walking towards you pulls out a massive umbrella,
an umbrella that could fit four people under it,
and opens it, holding it about a foot over her head
she's not watching where she's going
[or she's in too much of a rush to care]
it's a small sidewalk, and somewhat crowded
and as this woman passes,
you get hit square in the face [sometimes the eye] with her umbrella
ever happen to you?
cuz it happens to me all the fucking time
and i'm goddamn sick of it

movement 2 — resulting humidity
there's nothing like a rainstorm to help change up the weather
it's like nature's 'reset' button
in the summertime, they're a godsend
they take all the heat and stickiness out of the air
and for a glorious while, you get a respite from the oppressive temps
but then, about fifteen minutes after it's done,
you start to breathe in, and you can taste the moisture
then it gets worse
then it starts getting really bad,
to the point where you feel like you're in the everglades
the humidity comes back with a fucking vengeance
as if in defiance of the rain that just left
saying 'you can't make me leave,
and for trying, you get extra punishment
what the hell is that?
if the rain was truly beneficial and kind to us
it'd kick humidity in the balls and make it evaporate
but no
rain is the picador to the humidity's bull
all it's doing is giving it more resolve to make us miserable

rondo — duration
rain is a fickle* beast, and it does whatever it damn well pleases
and normally want it wants is not what you want
especially in terms of how long it'll rain
when you want it to, it's never long enough
but when you do,
that's shit over quicker than an honest politician's career
it always goes on forever when you need it to stop
when you've got an armful of books or important documents
or maybe you're carrying something electronic
it rains like it'll never get the chance to again
but when you're bored and have the free time,
maybe decide to go out, get soaked, and splash in the puddles,
then the rain quits after about five minutes
it feel like you took a swan dive into a turkish bath
and just feel all sticky and slightly damp
why can't that ever be reversed?
why can't rain let us appreciate it when we want to?
and piss off when it's really, REALLY problematic?
is that so goddamn hard?

i love rain, i really do
thunderstorms are my favorite natural phenomenon
and rain in general is something that'll brighten my day
but goddamned if it doesn't piss me off in the process
it's like a really cool person you've known for a long time
and you love hanging out with them, especially just the two of you
but they always have to bring their fucking friends
and they're ALWAYS complete pricks,
and it just ruins it for you
i guess i'll have to get used to it,
cuz that's not gonna change anytime soon

*when i was writing the last part,
i initially wrote 'fuckle' instead of fickle,
and i immediately started to wonder how that would work
i imagined some unholy combo of suckling and fucking
and then imagined is as the logical follow up to cuddling
i bet some cutesy motherfucker is gonna start using that
'hey baby, i just wanna cuddle with you,
and then maybe, if things start to get hot,
we can fuckle a little bit, then maybe cuddle again'
don't think it won't happen


all i know is where i wanna be
but the sky is trembling
green trees are flashin' by me
but the road ain't changin'
when this story comes to it's end
will i be with you?
maybe angels have the intent
to carry me to you

can you hear my trembling heart?
it beats with an engine
bright lights and shapes through the glass
reveal your reflection

through the mist and into the night,
my fears are fading
i know i'm gonna be by your side
i know you'll be waiting

say you'll always be
my guiding light, protecting me
my angel of the north,
angel of the north
take me in your arms
show me the way, away from harm
angel of the north
my angel of the north



as much as i really want to
and i do mean REALLY WANT TO
i'm not going to bitch about the new big ten divisions
i'm not going to complain about the new championship game
i am, however, gonna bitch about opening week matchups
on second thought, i'm not gonna bitch about that either
i'll just say that i have serious issues with all of them
and i don't want to waste you people's time with lots of cursing
[though, let's face it, you're all used to it by now]

it's kinda sad,
i'm one of the only people out here that's really into sports
so i have no one to yell at the tv with,
i did find a steelers bar on third ave
[they had an inflatable hines ward on the sidewalk in front of their window]
which i am going to frequent with great regularity come the nfl season
mostly since i don't have cable,
and i am NOT going without football this fall, goddamn it

my hard drive is rapidly approaching too full
[too many movies/much music]
which means here in the not–too–distant future
i'z gonna need a external
maybe someday i'll actually be able to afford it