1. 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. 2. 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... . 3. WASH AWAY A WORLD © 1995 Mike Pratt/Jim White Mama’s hiding in the cellar. Sister’s crying in the yard. Someone’s in the tool shed. I can hear ’em drinking. Papa’s up on the hill. He’s walking right into the sun, and far as I’m concerned, he can keep right on walking... ’Cause man I wish it would thunder man I wish it would rain and man I wish it would lightning and man I wish it would storm enough... to wash away a world. I caught a little hummingbird, then I let him go. He could be in China now, for all that I know. And do you know how to whisper... and do you know how to lie? Then you can kiss me now, if you wanna. I guess I don’t mind. But man I wish it would thunder man I wish it would rain and man I wish it would lightning and man I wish it would storm enough... to wash away a world. In the dark of the night, when my family is sleeping, God talks to me... he jumps right in my body. He says, “You are not my friend... and you are not my son. You’re just a little space I’m using... to hide some of my silence.” Then man I wish it would thunder Then man I wish it would rain Then man I wish it would lightning Then man I wish it would storm Then man I wish a dam would break and a flood would cleanse my soul... wash away this bad old world so a new one could be born. Yes man I wish it would thunder man... I wish it would storm. 4. 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. 5. THE GENIUS SONG © 1995 Mike Pratt/Jim White The bird in my hand’s a burden of shame. The bird in my soul’s a bundle of pain. The burden of love’s a cat in the rain. The burden of name, the weight you don’t know... you carry it softly, sweet’n low... sweet little bird... Like you never heard; That somewhere “The Genius” is buried on this farm. Yeah, somewhere the — “The Genius” — he is buried — on this very ever-loving, good-for-nothing, run-down, white-trash farm. I guess somewhere over the pain-bro’ I’ll find the end of this goddamn rainbow... I’m collecting lies and other hymns. I’m injecting secret medicines. Into arms so deep that the big tarbaby, he cain’t say yes or even maybe, ’cause he knows “no” in my only... state of mind... God, I’m so lost in the pines... I cain’t find “The Genius” that's buried on this farm. Somewhere “The Genius.” Where is “The Genius”? I’ll never find “The Genius”... I know he is buried, buried deep on this, somewhere on this... somewhere ever-loving, good-for-nothing, run-down, scum-sucking, ricky-ticky-tavvy hating, crash-to-earth-like-a-sacka-hot-china-breaking, screw you up and screw you down and take your cash and leave you down, shine drinking bellywashing your arm will never heal, horrible little place called a white trash farm.