13/8 On the Shoulder of the I-95

[Intro]
[Verse]
(Speak-sung, snarky)
The alternator gave up the ghost
Between the exit and the coast
We’re staging a miracle play
On the shoulder of the highway
My Telecaster hums a Locrian tune
Under a pale and mocking afternoon
The fuzz pedal’s cracked like a dry bone
Making a sound I can’t call my own
Is this a soundcheck or a seminar?
Stuck in the ribs of a dying car
[Build-up]
(Whispered, jittery)
Check one, check two, check why
Is the monitor telling a gold-plated lie?
My stage fright has teeth like a saw
Gnawing at the edges of a jagged law
I’m counting beats in thirteen-eight
While we wait for the tow-truck of fate
[Verse]
(Full-throated scream)
The scrap metal bucket begins to ring
Like a choir of ghosts trying to sing!
My bass player’s thumb is a rhythmic lead
Watching the cracked pavement start to bleed
Look! Guitar picks sprout from the tar
Growing like weeds where the heavy trucks are
And the Farfisa organ is a tape-echo blur
Turning the world into a nostalgic whir
[Breakdown]
[90-Second Sudden Silence Gap]
[Verse]
(Abrupt cut-in, feral joy)
Cables form Orion on the van floor
I don’t want to be lonely anymore!
The road signs are printed in tour-bus jokes
Laughter and carbon and cigarette smokes
We lost the setlist from the basement gig
In a micro-grief that’s starting to dig
A hole in my heart where the songs used to live
With nothing left for the audience to give
[Interlude]
(Melodic bass solo with scrap metal percussion)
[Verse]
(Soft, exhausted amusement)
My hands are shaking from the caffeine buzz
Wrapped in a blanket of electric fuzz
I’m dreaming of pancakes at four in the morning
Without any logic or any fair warning
Blueberry syrup on a cracked plastic plate
In a diner where time is a heavy weight
We’ll talk about the show that we never played
And the beautiful, broken mess that we made
[Build-up]
(Whispered)
Constellations in the copper wire
Setting the soundboard on a holy fire
Constellations in the copper wire
Setting the soundboard on a holy fire
[Verse]
(Screamed)
Eat the setlist! Burn the map!
We’re falling right into the rhythmic trap!
The 13/8 is a heartbeat skip
A jagged edge on a sinking ship!
I love the way the Farfisa moans
Echoing through my shivering bones!
[Break]
(Staccato Farfisa chords, tape echo feedback)
[Verse]
(Speak-sung, fading)
The tow truck arrives with a golden chain
To pull us out of the Locrian rain
I’ll keep the secret of the pancake stack
Until the lights on the stage go black
One more check for the road signs’ grin
Let the next miracle finally begin
[Outro]