South San Gabriel

I Feel Too Young To Die 

New Brookland 

Smelling Medicinal

St. Augustine



I Feel Too Young To Die (South San Gabriel)

From: "The Carlton Chronicles: Not Until The Operationís Through"
Posted and transcribed by Bill

(Reality sets in, and the fantasy of fleeing maybe isnít all he thought itíd be. An inner narrative directed at his owner, Carlton/Deacon now considers coming home.)

(G)I did not know of (C)what you spoke, but (Am)got your faces (Em)all the same
I thought of stealing babyís breath, but stopped it when you came
The trouble, stress, and all the fuss, that I did leave with you
A comfort absent for a while, have you missed me, too?
An altercation possum-like, earned this broken leg
An illness somehow creeping in, now all I want is rest
Now I am in magnolia, and I am Indian paintbrush
I am drunk with fishen smells, mouse and nip and such

And I have hidden acorn shells, and I have dreamt of Ron
I will dream of some new fowl, now that he is gone
Still I will limp among these fields, chasing grasshopper
I have thought of brand new homes, knowing Iíll return
I feel too young to die.



New Brookland (South San Gabriel)

From: "Welcome Convalescence"
Posted and transcribed by Bill

(G)Make no mistake, (C)we'll be the (G)ones to (C)happily (G)set you on (D)fire(G)
As you hit the brakes a (C)little too (G)late, (C)securing your (G)date with the (D)lake(G)

And I (Am) think by now we're satis(C)fied with the way in (G)which
you're buried by your (Em)lies. (D)
And it (Am)seems our (C)heavyweight can find unpleasant (G)ways
To see you a(D)way.

It's juvenille, perverse and forgotten -- all to your unflagging credit.
Rejuvenate was never an options. We lost you just east of New Brookland.
In figure eights you try your escape. The beginnning is always the ending.
To circumvent, you're choking on speeches that failed you
before you came here.



Smelling Medicinal (South San Gabriel)

From: "Welcome Convalescence"
Posted and transcribed by Bill

At the (G)threshold, of the (C)day
I compla(G)ined of the re(Em)cords you (D)played (C)
Unfor(G)givable were the (C)sounds
Of the (G)shit that you (Em)blared from the (D) house (C)

And I (D)guess I was just (C)shaken by the (G)rage
Hard fisted, (D)pissed, tired and (C)feathered
Freshly esc(Am)apen from the (G)cage
And I (D)suppose you were just (C)searching for something to (G)say
You were smelling me(D)dicinal, juggling the (C)daggers
That I (Am)tried to hide a(G)way

Along with the sultry pictures
That never once met my unholy demands
The slings and hammers that you've collected
The poisionous arrows and happiness found in an axe


The sweet, tranquil end of the day
Was sodden with liquor, in conditional anger we lie
Under fluorescent stars stuck to the ceiling
Your custom made universe, as we take to the sky



St. Augustine (South San Gabriel)

From: "Welcome Convalescence"
Posted and transcribed by Bill

Your gun(D)shots were stuck on re(A)peat
Drowning out the (G)quietness that I worked to (Cm)create
So there's(D) you -- you with your (A)manicure
And me in my (G)stocking cap in the trunk of your(Cm) car

Oh, to think of the explanations
That you will soon conjure up for the reporters
With their beady eyes, strapped in pressed jackets
With tempermental microphones, and lack of respect

And there's you -- you with your car
Headed for St. Augustine just as fast as the sun
I will see you again