1.BOOK OF ANGELS © 1995 Mike Pratt/Jim White Big ole car moving fast, watch the world go spinning by... Little wheels inside my brain, God I wonder where I’m going... Where you going? Need a ride? We got time to see a movie... It’s all right. it’s okay, I can tell you my big secret: Sho’ is cool. Sho’ is cool. I’m like a mad tap dancing fool. I got my car, and I got my dreams, but won’t you help me help me write my Book of Angels. Book of Angels. And it’s a gloomy ole house in a spooky town, you make that light, better just keep rolling, higher still, climb the mountain, ’course what you’ll find there, you can’t be certain. ’Cause when you’re free, well you’re just free, ain’t that scary, ain’t that wild? And don’t you feel, feel just like chucking freedom out the window? Sho’ is cool. Sho’ is real. I dance just as good as I feel. Feel just like a hurricane, say my name... help me write my Book of Angels. Book of Angels. I’m counting trees, I’m counting miles, I count the distance between your smiles... give me something to hold on to — no not that. I don’t want to. And if you drive, drive your car fast and hard a million miles, well you might finally find yourself alone way out there on the highway... Sho’ is cool. Sho’ is wild. Once I was a little baby (child), but I lost my car, and I lost my dreams, so won’t you help me help me write my Book of Angels. Book of Angels. 2. BURN THE RIVER DRY © 1996 Mike Pratt/Jim White Door is locked... .no one’s home... frame is empty... .picture’s missing... throw that rock right through the window. Hey, I know him, he’s a singer. Roam around... another town... looks like Phoenix, Arizona... borrow the car from it’s owner. That sleepy-head... he’s dreaming the dreams of suburbia. Yeah suburbia. Me, I don’t care... I just pay what it takes to feel alive. Cause somehow somewhere, hell everyone I know is waiting... just waiting to burn the river dry. And nothing works more than once, it keeps you restless, always moving fretful searching for a brand new spanking form of deliverance. Movies stars... heroin, dreams of wild old fucking grandeur! Snap your fingers, now you’re famous... Close your eyes as you sell out to all them suckers that you hate. Yeah, them suckers that you hate. Me, I don’t care... I just pay what it takes to feel alive Somehow, somewhere everyone I know is waiting... just waiting to burn that river dry. Burn that river dry. Hands that once reached for heaven grabbing at the penny in the sewer. Smell of your soul burning on the skewer, and all that dirt that you have swallowed. The howling voice from the closet, better run away just because it seems to know a little bit too much about all them shallow graves that you got buried in the field of your experience. Me, I don’t care... I just pay what it takes to feel alive. Somehow somewhere, hell everyone I know is waiting... just waiting to burn that river dry. 3.STILL WATERS © 1995 Mike Pratt/Jim White Well I was shacked up down in Mobile with a girl from New York City. She woke me up one night to tell me that we weren’t alone. She said she saw the ghost of a woman staring at me. I told her not to worry, but in the morning when I woke up, she was gone. So I headed on to Florida where I tangled with some sailors. And as I lay bloody on the wharf, I cursed the ship they sailed on. Wouldn’t you know, twenty four hours later that ship sank into the ocean... disappearing like an unwanted memory beneath the waves. I guess it’s ’cause, still waters run, run deep in me ’cause I got this crazy way... crazy way I’m swimming in still waters. And I was woke up just before dawn by an old man crying in the rain. He was drunk and he was lonely and as he passed by he sang a hymn. And as I lay there listening, well I almost joined him in that song... but instead I just held my peace, and waited ’till that old man moved along. Then later on that day about a quarter mile out of town, I found his body hanging in a grove of pines, swaying in the wind. And as he swang that rope sang another hymn to Jesus, and this time though I don’t know why, I somehow felt inclined to sing along. I guess it’s cause, still waters run, run deep in me ’cause I got this crazy way... crazy way I’m swimming in still waters. Yes and there are projects for the dead and there are projects for the living... thought I must confess sometimes I get confused by that distinction... and I just throw myself into the arms of that which would betray me. I guess to see how far Providence will stoop down just to save me. And it’s all because, still waters run, run deep in me... ’cause I’ve got this crazy way... crazy way I’m swimming in still waters. 4. WHEN JESUS GETS A BRAND NEW NAME © 1995 Mike Pratt/Jim White Damn them dogs is really smart... ..think I’d better lose the snowshoes... thought the skid marks on the road’d throw them off, but damn them dogs is smart & on Devil’s Island of the heart, you can’t afford to make a big mistake you gotta plan your jail break carefully... very carefully! And them crickets chirping in my hair... they’re about to drive me smack insane. I don’t know quite who put ’em there... but everytime I hear ’em it sound just like; When Jesus gets a brand new name! When Jesus gets a brand new name! Now I’m hiding in a funky shadow... I see a TV show through the window... there’s lawyers riding in a speedboat... .they’re solving cases on the ocean. I’m going over the waterfalls... I’m a lamb to the slaughter ya’ll better duck because that flying thing... is coming back this way! I tell you what the hay! Friggin A! A certified genius couldn’t do it better. You disagree? Well, that’s okay, we’ll notify you with a letter! When Jesus gets a brand new name! When Jesus gets a brand new name! Golden dust, golden bones, golden opportunitones. You flush ’em all down the rusty drain---better laugh, boy, before you feel the pain. And get yourself good and saved, make sure that you are well behaved; you should part your hair, you should shine your shoes, you should say your prayers, you should pay your dues--- you do heart surgery with a hammer... then you lock ’em all up in the gospel slammer ’till there’s nothing left for this corpse to say... except “Drag my stinking butt away!” When Jesus gets a brand new name! When Jesus gets a brand new name! My friends; Cross your fingers, cross your hearts, ’cause they’ve ripped that sucker clean apart And don’t catch my whole guitar on fire... as you embrace the lips of my wild desire. Now you’re messing with my superstition---hey, what about the Inquisition?! Yeah I like ’em big, like ’em chunky, I like ’em pasty faced, like a superjunky. You steal the water from the well of love, it’ll sit in your tummy like O.J.’s glove... So don’t you give me none of that dadgummed shango, ’cause I know that it takes two to tango! When Jesus gets a brand new name! When Jesus gets a brand new name! 5. SLEEPY-TOWN © 1995 Mike Pratt/Jim White I whisper beautiful secrets into the drainpipes at night for the old folks while they’re sleeping... something to help them with their dreams. I climb the wall to the cemetary, lay down on the grave of my father... I hear him asking me for forgiveness, so I close my eyes in prayer. And then a rainy-rainy-rain falls down... a cool rainy-rain upon my head. It makes the river overflow it’s banks, and wash my cares away to Sleepy-town. I pour whiskey in the honeycomb, it makes the bees all turn to angels. I watch ’em fly off into heaven... disappear where I can’t follow. And I would write Jesus a letter, but I hear that he don’t speak English... so instead I’ll just throw these cobblestones until I ring that old church bell. Until the rainy-rainy-rain fall down... cool rainy-rain upon my head. It makes the river overflow it’s banks, and wash my cares away to Sleepy-town. In Sleepy-town, you let the wild wind blow away your name. In Sleepy town, you let the healing rain just wash your pain away. I see a light on in the station, yeah someone is waiting for a train. And I envy them their leaving as I turn to head back home again. For soon the morning sun will rise and this little town will open up its eyes.. and return from the land where I’ve never been from a Sleepy-town... that’s free... from all that rainy-rainy-rain fall down. The cool rainy-rain upon my head make the river overflow it’s banks and wash my cares away to Sleepy-town... 6. A PERFECT DAY TO CHASE TORNADOES © 1995 Mike Pratt/Jim White Way down south I know a girl who is blind. She walks alone along a lonely highway each day. She dreams that one day a man will pull up in a car. He’ll open up the door, she’ll climb in and he will say: “Hey babe, whatcha know? Hope you’re ready to go... ’cause today’s a perfect day to chase tornados.” Yeah when the wild wind whips around your head you know, that you have found a perfect day to chase tornados. And what about that preacher man on the run from the law? He killed a girl in Memphis and ran ’till the dogs tracked him down. They shot him by the river and as he lay dying in the mud, well someone asked him, hey Preacher, where’s your soul going now? And Preacher said, “Well, I do not know, but wherever it is I’ll gladly go... cause today’s a perfect day to chase tornados.” Yeah when the wild wind kicks around your head you know, that you have found a perfect day to chase tornados. Sometimes I think that the sky is a prison and the earth is a grave. And sometimes I feel like Jesus, in some Chinese opera. And sometimes I’m glad I built my mansion from crazy little stones. But sometimes I feel so goddamned trapped by everything that I know. And I wish it wasn’t so, cause the only thing that anyone should ever know is that today’s a perfect day to chase tornados. Yeah, when the wild wind whips around your head you know, that you have found a perfect day to chase tornados. 7. WORDMULE © 1995 Mike Pratt/Jim White Your world is in flames there ain’t even a name for the feelings you feel as you watch it all burn. There’s a girl in the distance, she’s calling your name, but the name that she’s calling is not your name, she calls: THE WORD-MULE! THE WORD-MULE! THE WORD-MULE! but he’s plowing the field... THE WORD-MULE! THE WORD-MULE! THE WORD-MULE! but he’s plowing the field... And you can’t walk on that water, I know ’cause I tried. It’s our spider web-thinking, it’s just too heavy with holes. And our thoughts they are made up of red Georgia clay, we think we know everything, but man we don’t know: THE WORD-MULE! THE WORD-MULE! THE WORD-MULE! but he’s plowing the field... THE WORD-MULE! THE WORD-MULE! THE WORD-MULE! but he’s plowing the field... here come THE WORD-MULE! My friends, look out for hustlers for preachers for sheisters, them silver-tongued saints who pretend to do good, ’cause they’re geeks biting chicken-heads off with their witty rejoinders they ain’t nothing but greasy fast food for: THE WORD-MULE! THE WORD-MULE! THE WORD-MULE! but he’s plowing the field... THE WORD-MULE! THE WORD-MULE! THE WORD-MULE! but he’s plowing the field... 8. STABBED IN THE HEART © 1995 Mike Pratt/Jim White Upon awakening I find myself lying in some woods, and for the longest time I’ve sat here, just trying to remember why I feel like I am floating, why blood is running down my shirt then my memory returns to me as the pain comes flooding; into my heart, my baby she stabbed me in my heart. left me here to die, my baby she stabbed me in my heart and I know why... I hear the sound of distant footsteps, and I know that she is running from that past which will pursue her until the day that she dies. ’Cause I know about her family, and their crimes upon her body... so I guess it wasn’t me at all that she was trying to kill... when she drove that knife into my heart my baby she stabbed me in my heart left me here to die my baby she stabbed me in my heart really came as no surprise. Over the hill there is a highway, now I hear a truck is stopping... she’s flagged somebody down and asked ’em for a ride. And I would try to follow her, but I don’t seem to be able to lift this heavy body anymore, as the light fails, and the darkness falls into my heart my baby she stabbed me in my heart left me here to die my baby she stabbed me in my heart so now I’ll just, I’ll just close my eyes close my eyes as the darkness falls into my heart my baby she stabbed me in my heart into my heart I’m falling, I’m falling, I’m falling... . 9. ANGEL-LAND © 1995 Mike Pratt/Jim White I cannot be superman no more... I cannot walk upon the high wire in my mind. And now that I understand the extent of my mortal coil, suddenly and somehow I have lost all my desire... to shine, to shine like the sun... to shine, to shine like the sun... on a sunny day in Angel-Land. And I guess sometimes you find that the river just runs dry... and you’ve got to get up out of the boat and walk. And I suppose you might try to find another river, but sometimes, sometimes it’s just too hard.. to hard to shine, to shine like the sun... to shine, to shine like the sun... on a sunny day, in Angel-Land. Mostly now these days I’m dreaming normal dreams... little things like who I spoke to, or what I did today. I have not written a speech for God to say in years. ’Scuse me if I leave that undertaking up to those who say... who say the wanna shine, to shine like the sun... to shine, a shine like the sun.. on a sunny day, in Angel-Land.. sweet Angel-land 10. HEAVEN OF MY HEART © 1995 Mike Pratt/Jim White Radio song, playing in the car, don’t even know where we are... don’t know the time of day or the color of the clothes I’m wearing. Would you look at that sky, pretty little stars twinkling far above in heaven sorta makes me feel like dancing, right here in the moonlight. But this little girl, well she’s so shy, she won’t even look up, into the sky... .. At the shiny stars, guiding stars pointing the way to the heaven of my heart... guiding stars pointing the way to the heaven of my, the heaven of my heart. Got a funny-bone, laugh like a mule, always did pretty good in school but still I cannot decipher her arithmetic. Cause I’d walk to the moon, I’d lick a spittoon, I’d wear wooly underwear in a sauna, just to show her how much I wanna be her loveable lunatic. But she’s so demure, that it’s no surprise when I tell her I love her, well she just closes her eyes... . To the shiny stars, guiding stars pointing the way to the heaven of my heart... guiding stars pointing the way to the heaven of my, the heaven of my heart. Yes she’s a brainy girl, that is good. She’s smarter than me but then so is wood, but that don’t mean I should submit to her authority... ’cause I wanna make her laugh, I wanna make her sing, but she won’t do a doggone thing, and don’tcha know when she don’t it makes her even more adorable. I guess that’s why, it’s the way she fights me... . it makes them stars burn extra brightly Them shiny stars, guiding star pointing the way to the heaven of my heart, guiding stars pointing the way to the heaven of my heart ETC. 11. THE ROAD THAT LEADS TO HEAVEN © 1995 Mike Pratt/Jim White If you like me won’t you stay a little while? We could count the falling stars above our heads. Will you walk with me another lonesome mile? And if you should hear a distant voice calling from the bottom of the well... Well, it’s just me---I fell in years ago, when I stumbled onto the road that leads to heaven. See the pretty cloud? It’s shaped just like a dove. There is a gust of wind, now it’s a famous movie star... it’s reminding me of someone I once loved... another gust of wind, and now it’s just a cloud again... with so much wrote between the lines you can go crazy trying to read the signs on the road that leads to heaven. And on the road map of my heart you are a city throwing bright and shining lights into the sky but this highway I am riding, it just goes on passing by, sorry I would love to hold you in my arms but today and always I’m afraid... Yes I’m afraid I’m on the road that leads to heaven... .