I'd give you the shirt off my back
just not this one
I'd show you the formula
and no method
I'd be in your musical revue
but I'd lip-sync
I'd act in your one act play
as a tree
When you get right down to it
I'm no good
I'd make you coffee
from crystals
I'd pass you the cream
it's Coffee MateTM
I'd give you cocaine
just one line
I'd wash your feet
with spit
When you get right down to it
I'm no good
No happy ending
Punish the Evil Merchant
The clan had had no choice but to take the job, the flood had wiped out any hope of a harvest. Oda Haruki had been sent out to the world that he might punish an evil merchant, Echigoya. The clan was being paid by a group of women from a village close by the network of caves they called home. He knew that the old man had taken too much from the villagers, but he did not know the details, and did not wish to know. All that he knew was encompassed in farming and silence.
Haruki crouched under the merchant's window, contemplating his plan. He had chosen a good night for bad work. It was raining hard, and he had not seen anyone nor been seen. The catch on the merchant's window had snapped off easily. The merchant was drinking and gambling with his cronies, his braying laugh audible even through the pounding rain. Echigoya was winning. All that he had to do now was wait for the evil man and his companions to drink themselves to stupefaction on rice wine and stumble to their beds.
Haruki heard the sharp voice of dissent from below his feet and knew the game was finished for the night. He listened as the merchant made his way to his room and prepared for sleep, and waited until he heard the stertorous breath of alcoholic slumber from inside. Haruki readied himself for his attack, emptying his mind. He slipped open the window and lifted himself through. After a scan of the room, he drew his sword and took two quick steps to Echigoya's bedside and set it on the floor. He shook his scabbard out into his hand, retrieving the cord. Then Oda Haruki garroted Echigoya and vanished into the night, leaving the corpse of the evil merchant as it was, one hand reaching for his neck and the other for his gold.
Haruki crouched under the merchant's window, contemplating his plan. He had chosen a good night for bad work. It was raining hard, and he had not seen anyone nor been seen. The catch on the merchant's window had snapped off easily. The merchant was drinking and gambling with his cronies, his braying laugh audible even through the pounding rain. Echigoya was winning. All that he had to do now was wait for the evil man and his companions to drink themselves to stupefaction on rice wine and stumble to their beds.
Haruki heard the sharp voice of dissent from below his feet and knew the game was finished for the night. He listened as the merchant made his way to his room and prepared for sleep, and waited until he heard the stertorous breath of alcoholic slumber from inside. Haruki readied himself for his attack, emptying his mind. He slipped open the window and lifted himself through. After a scan of the room, he drew his sword and took two quick steps to Echigoya's bedside and set it on the floor. He shook his scabbard out into his hand, retrieving the cord. Then Oda Haruki garroted Echigoya and vanished into the night, leaving the corpse of the evil merchant as it was, one hand reaching for his neck and the other for his gold.
Yes, I am Familiar With the Band You're Thinking of
your diesel VW so quiet
like a riot
muffled so safely
can't chase me
truffles in dreams
overachieve
experts in schemes
you best believe
like a riot
muffled so safely
can't chase me
truffles in dreams
overachieve
experts in schemes
you best believe
The Golden Furnace
I need you to be
as police must have crime
fresco secco and lime
or ears and a falling tree
I yearn for your soul
like Moloch waits for sin
can opener and tin
or a pauper and the dole
I miss what I never had
a deaf man dreams of Handel
a blind man, light from a candle
a mute screams of his scandal
I am all three and love-mad
I wait for your look
like shoots follow the sun
zero and number one
or glasses and an old book
I want you to rise
as the bird on the pyre
summer and wood smoke fire
or a picnic and the flies
as police must have crime
fresco secco and lime
or ears and a falling tree
I yearn for your soul
like Moloch waits for sin
can opener and tin
or a pauper and the dole
I miss what I never had
a deaf man dreams of Handel
a blind man, light from a candle
a mute screams of his scandal
I am all three and love-mad
I wait for your look
like shoots follow the sun
zero and number one
or glasses and an old book
I want you to rise
as the bird on the pyre
summer and wood smoke fire
or a picnic and the flies
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