Vic Chesnutt - Is The Actor Happy (2004) by Vic Chesnutt (보컬) on maniadb.com

Well we blew past the army motorcade-and
It's abnormal load haulage the gravity of the situation
Came on us like a bit of new knowledge the bubbliest bubble bath
Broke down on the bank the gravity of the situation
Is why our old thought bubbles sank humble
And gracious the gravity of the situation

Well, a fat hungry english crow is picking at a badger carcass
The gravity of the situation is hard to focus and harness well,
We met Bill Lowery at the Queen's Hal lthe gravity of the situation
Became apparent to us all

Humble and gracious the gravity of the situation

It's the plan of most to discover that magnificent ghost
When did I get perverted and my innocent eyes diverted
From a view so grand imbued with distractions
I'm greedy like Senior Babbitt I'm just chasing that electric rabbit

I'm a reluctant rebel I just want to be Aaron Neville
With a crown on my head and my denim shirt all dark with sweat
I'm just pushing the paint around on advice from your lying mouth
You touched me and then you ran and left a sad Peter Pan all alone
And awkward but a transformation I swear it will occur

Up on the bluff, where I wish I was
Twisting up the pages of history
My cold feet dangling, my bony arms gesturing
To summon up a little chunk of that history

In the corridor the shadows are long
And it messes with my equilibrium
And there's strains of a strange language

Up on the bluff, where the hardwoods jut
Out toward the gusts of history
My crusty mind cracks, my restless heart tracks
The fractal lines of history

In the corridor the shadows are long
And it messes with my equilibrium
And there's strains of a strange language

In the corridor the shadows are long
And it messes with my equilibrium
And there's strains of a strange language

Thin and unshaved, drunk and mysterious ooh,
I must say lifestyle is curious with
A little touch of the sniffles and filthy socks gnawed,
Crumbled fingernails never doing tomahawk chops
A flaky head dandruff is distinguished lacquer is red vain
Is the varnish what is at the root of this, she'll say,
Whatcha got what participle do you possess
She'll say, which I have not

One blustery day we rode out to the meadow lands we saw
And were amazed then hauled it back into town again
Mississippi is a mess sometimes and not only when it rain show come
You went back to that malaria island cause our friendship is strained
Those were the days when you were so cosmopolitan these are the days,
My letters they're so maudlin I wrote you an eloquent postcard once
About this most exquisite onion soup but of course I never mailed though
Cause it was your turn in the loop

Those were the days when you were so cosmopolitan
These are the days, my letters they're increasingly maudlin

I was supposed to tell you about the point of departure
With the aim of a drunken archer I will probably stray
But you can see in her bold eyebrow
You can see in that fancy cup
That even her freakish nipples are a kimbo
No doubt she is a doubting woman
No doubt she is a doubting woman

There's a little matter of the bathing beauty
She's such a little cutie but she's shy
She has a special sponge that is optional
To hide her painterly nipples from our eye
No doubt they are, doubting women
No doubt they are, doubting women

I was supposed to tell you about the case of a cult
It's called the cult of inspiration and it is rewarding
You can be filled with the tingle of euphoria
Of total animation and of wonder
No doubt we love the doubting woman
No doubt we love the doubting woman

The doubting woman

Oberheim, Yamaha, Steinway
And the lot I must have played the wrong piano
Cause it left me with, I don't know what

So don't talk to me about mistakes yes
We all simply have got to take precautions
I must have played the wrong piano
'cause now I just feel nauseous

Some sexual turned into some biblical and then
Became a game of just trivial pursuit I used to gnaw on every word
But now I don't, what's the use

Ruppert Murdock and Larry Flint Bob Guccione
And the U.S. mint I took out the wrong subscription and
I don't know what I'm gonna end
Up spending

Betty Lonely lives in a duplex of stuccoon the north bank of a brackish river
Her ears omit the noise from a nearby air stripher mind floats beyond the snapper boats
Betty Lonely, her green eyes are roughly staring at a point
Through the sliding glass door her heart live over a drawbridge
Her brain is wet like a throw net

Betty Lonely, she will always think in Spanish
Though I know her Spanish black hairit will start to fade
She sunk her past out in the surrounding salt flat
Sher maidenhood was lost beneath the Spanish moss
Betty Lonely just talks to her grand baby everybody else
She blots them out but her words stick like a flounder
Gig her dry laugh is like a gaff

Take a light bulb from the closet
And replace the one above the faucet scrape
The whisker from my face nick my lip in pointless haste
Take a magic marker black darken a spot on the map of a county on the coast

Where I was born out of a ghost
Underneath the ceiling fan contemplate a master plan
Breathe a sigh of recognition for a childhood superstition
Push a thumbtack in the wall pierce the picture I did draw
It's a graphic portrait from my you this hurts my heart this forced review

It's a battle of the culinary arts in that boiling land you
Met your mate over across that river and some good old heroin
In Thailand

Into our lovely story, who do we insert but the mighty,
Mighty Steve Willoughbyhe went searching for that big Buddha in a raincoat
And met a wife half the size of he
In Thailand

Where are you Mr. Mustache noveliers,
I'm in need of such a little assist
I'm in need of some of your little wisdom
Where are you Mr. Yankee a physicist,
I'm in need of some of your physical sneers
I'm in need of some of your ohysical wisdom
Where are you Mr. Latin folk artist,
I'm in need of some of your glossy ?
I'm in need of some of your ? wisdom

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Written By VIC CHESNUTT
<i>Lyrics &copy; BUG MUSIC</i>

It's a battle of the culinary arts in that boiling land you
Met your mate over across that river and some good old heroin
In Thailand

Into our lovely story, who do we insert but the mighty,
Mighty Steve Willoughbyhe went searching for that big Buddha in a raincoat
And met a wife half the size of he
In Thailand