sweet potatoes

If I'm a sweet potato, then so are you.
And I will just try to do everything you do.
From the highest cliff to the toughest riffs,
between us something good will become truth.
You can't forget the sweet potatoes.
And you can't forget our songs.
We don't play for anything,
nor do we sing for any one.
So as a couple sweet potatoes,
I feel that we can do no wrong.

find a home

The choices we make don't seem to go to rest in our heads
and the lies we tell ourselves don't let us sleep in our beds
there is pain in every day, there's hurt in every smile.
smiling isn't always worth all of the memories it revives
find a home

i'm a good friend of yours, so i'll always have your back
and i always have some extra granola bars buried in my knapsack
i can't see where i am going, and it hasn't started snowing yet
maybe i'd be a little bit warmer if all of my insides weren't showing
maybe i'd be a little bit warmer if my love for life would start growing
instead of fading away like conversations at the end of the day
when there's nothing left to say, we just lie awake
and we find a home

the rainclouds spot me and then they drop it all on me
i ask my friends if they've got me and most of them walk away
we get drunk and start falling
i find a phone and start calling myself
trying to remember the things that i used to say
when i had a home
the things i used to say when i had a home

pass the wheel

If we live too fast, you know that we'll get caught.
If we act too slow, you know it will all drop.

october

a silky motion of coolness moving in to me,
following me.
and though i turn my head often,
back and forth and back,
i can't see it.
i won't ever see it.
these aches compress time,
impress the hurt upon me,
and they stick.
the large question being from me, posed to myself,
and the answer being nowhere to be found.
the grass, the trees.
the light cradled in branches.
my young heart gets lost, my young heart just dances.
i will never be pleased.
and so i stumble along,
looking for some giant evergreen to hide me.

the last trip to tulsa

Well, I used to drive a cab, you know
I heard a siren scream
Pulled over to the corner
And I fell into a dream
There were two men eating pennies
And three young girls who cried
The West coast is falling,
I see rocks in the sky.
The preacher took his bible
And laid it on the stool.
He said: with the congregation running,
Why should I play the fool?

Well, I used to be a woman, you know
I took you for a ride,
I let you fly my airplane
It looked good for your pride.
'Cause you're the kind of man you know
Who likes what he says.
I wonder what's it's like
To be so far over my head.
Well, the lady made the wedding
And she brought along the ring.
She got down on her knees
And said: Let's get on with this thing.

Well, I used to be a folk singer
Keeping managers alive,
When you saw me on a corner
And told me I was jive.
So I unlocked your mind, you know
To see what I could see.
If you guarantee the postage,
I'll mail you back the key.
Well I woke up in the morning
With an arrow through my nose
There was an Indian in the corner
Tryin' on my clothes.

Well, I used to be asleep you know
With blankets on my bed.
I stayed there for a while
'Til they discovered I was dead.
The coroner was friendly
And I liked him quite a lot.
If I hadn't 've been a woman
I guess I'd never have been caught.
They gave me back my house and car
And nothing more was said.

Well, I was driving down the freeway
When my car ran out of gas.
Pulled over to the station
But I was afraid to ask.
The servicemen were yellow
And the gasoline was green.
Although I knew I couldn't
I thought that I was gonna scream.
That was on my last trip to Tulsa
Just before the snow.
If you ever need a ride there,
Be sure to let me know.

I was chopping down a palm tree
When a friend dropped by to ask
If I would feel less lonely
If he helped me swing the axe.
I said: No, it's not a case of being lonely
We have here,
I've been working on this palm tree
For eighty seven years
I said: No, it's not a case of being lonely
We have here,
I've been working on this palm tree
For eighty seven years
He said: Go get lost!
And walked towards his Cadillac.
I chopped down the palm tree
And it landed on his back.

the last trip to tulsa - neil young