Soul Coughing - El Oso


I'm rolling. I've got to get a new balm. I've got to get a tight tension on. I've got to slip it
up before the rush gets gone. I've got to feel it with the hot mind on. I'm rolling. Hey
Norman, was it thrown with a broken arm? Bottle it up, to keep it warm. I'm rolling. I
know you got it but you got to go; I'm gonna get into the batter so the mix might glow. I
hate to do it, but I did it though; I'm gonna bite into the body like the risk is no risk. I got
the souped-up car and what you call tripping on the boom-bap etymological. I ride the
fader and I ride it low; I'm gonna slip into the field like Han Solo. I'm rolling. One, two,
into the amplifier, the electrified two, into the amplifier, and you got to get to, into the
amplifier, one-two into the amplifier. I'm rolling.


His eyes go funny, you can't place why. All dolled up in bellhop drag.

It is like a burden to the beat, to the long gone.

I was once misinformed about your intentions.

Were you right to burn the rock star? Were you right to drop the roster?

One dollar bill, one dollar bill. Nah nah nah.


When you were languishing in rooms I built to foul you in. And when the wind set down
in funnel form and pulled you in.

I don't need to walk around in circles.

And when the ghostly dust of violence traces everything. And when the gas is drained,
just wreck it, you insured the thing.

But I can't sigh now that you made the move; it has gone and gone to dogs; lay down on
the floor. For the right price I can get everything; slip into the car; go driving to the
farthest star.


Is the cure
Cure anything
Throw the rudder down
Throw the rudder down
Broad latitude
Throw the rudder down
Throw the rudder down

St. Louise Is Listening


                   I stopped the thought before its drip became insistent. I rubbed it out and loved the spot
                   where it was missing. She's widely known, the only maquereau that pays her taxes. I got
                   to box her for the money.

                   You don't use words like that--St. Louise is listening.

                   You rang the Eskimo to meet you at the station. Oh he's like milk to you, half-Swedish
                   and half-Asian. And your aphasia strikes a bargain with the barter yardie. I got to box
                   you for the money.

                   I could be your baby-doll. I could be your doll, baby. I could be the thing you want. I
                   could do it all for you.

                   Let me get up on it. Let me. Let me.