All Lyrics written by Rennie Sparks

GOLD
Got a tattoo of a snake and a ski mask on my face, but I woke up in a ditch behind the Stop ’n Go.
Lying in the weeds with a bullet in my gut, watching dollar bills fly away in the dust.
Now the sun’s sinking down, spilling gold on the ground, but I’m going out tonight, out past the last lights of town.
There was a girl with dark eyes and hair shining black. It ran like a river wild down her back.
But these wide empty streets, the air shaking with heat, they made me hungry, hungry to do something mean.
Now the sun’s sinking down, spilling gold on the ground, but I’m going out tonight, out past the last lights of town.
The Stop ’n Go’s closed. The coyotes they moan and the wind’s rolling beer cans down the street.
But the sun’s sinking down, spilling gold on the
ground, and I’m going out tonight, out past the last lights of town.

THE SILVER LIGHT
There is no day or night in the forest of slot machines, flashing lights and cigarettes, free refills on your drink.
But if the golden deer of luck never leaps the black jack felt, past old men with their oxtygen feeding quarters to the slots,
Will you see the silver light? Can you see the silver light? Can you see it hiding there in your empty hands?
Beefy nachos, chicken wings, all you can eat buffet.
A bar shaped like a racing car, neon glow stick in
your drink.
And if the angels never come, soaring down on
golden wings to anoint your shaking fist with a pair
of paper kings,
Will you see the silver light? Can you see the
silver light? Can you see it shining there in your
empty hands?

BACK IN MY DAY
We had maps that unfolded back in my day. You could drink from the river. We had gods made of clay.
There were mile-high glaciers, no locks on the doors. The stars burned brighter. We never counted past four.
The birds were always watching. There were monsters in the sea. We wore watches on our wrists. There were ghosts in the trees.
Way back in the days, you’re too young to have seen when the nights were darker, longer and deep.
There was no time or space when I was growing up. We had summer all winter. The moon rose with the sun.
And music sounded better. We recorded on rings
of ice and as the songs turned to water we couldn’t
help but cry.
Way back in the good days, the ones you didn’t see, when everything was better, darker and deep.


TINY TINA
Last September at the state fair, past the ferris wheel and bumper cars, the hypnotist, the jumping goats, forgotten country music stars.
There was a sign for Tiny Tina, from the wild’s of Arizona.  Drinks just a thimble of water, eats just a handful of straw.
Tiny Tina, the world’s smallest horse. Just a dollar to go see her. Just a dollar to see that little horse.
I rode the teacups, the tilt ’o whirl, shot water guns at grinning clowns. I ate funnel cakes, chili dogs, fried beer. I saw the largest ear of corn.
But as the fair lights shone at dusk, I stood there in that field of dirt, thinking only of those little hooves trotting circles in the dark.
Tiny Tina, the world’s smallest horse. Why didn’t I go see her? Why didn’t I go see that little horse?
Why didn’t I go see that tiny horse?
Why didn’t I go see that little horse?


UNDERNEATH THE FALLS       
The green one sleeps underneath the falls.
Deep in the roar of water he slowly dreams the world.
And those who venture close to that shadow ’neath the sea, they fall asleep forever in the eddy of the reeds.
Don’t listen, don’t listen to the call. Turn away, away, from the whisper in the falls.
On the first summer nights the windows open wide.
The world expands in darkness, black waters rushing by.
There are hunters in the hedges. There are whispers
in the green. The soaking mud is hungry, closer now
it seeps.
Don’t listen, don’t listen to the call. Turn away, away, from the hissing in the walls.
Be careful summer nights. Keep the windows closed. Outside the yard is crawling. The heavy branches bow.
In heat the world remembers when all rushed with the sea. In heat the old waves rise again to claim what has crawled free.
Don’t listen, don’t listen to the call. Turn away, away, from the one beneath the falls.

THE SEA ROSE
Wrapped in the weeds of the shallows. In the moon’s drifting light. Calling from the cold, wet rocks, the sea rose of the low tides.
A passing ship along the coast heard her sadly calling and turned its sails to the sound, the rose, the sea
rose calling.
In the waves, the waves she’s calling.
Lonely, lonely, my heart is dark the rocks lie cold beneath me. Come closer, closer darling one. We’ll marry in the sea weed.
On the passing ship, a sailor boy, he heard the sea rose calling and from the bow he dove on down to the waves, the waves, falling.
The waves, the waves were falling.
Come, come darling boy into my arms awaiting. Down, down in the cold, dark sea I’m waiting here to love you.
To her arms, her lovely arms, the currents pulled him splashing, but her body was only foaming waves and her voice just water rushing.
In the waves the sea rose falling. In the waves, the waves, my darling. The waves, the sea rose calling.


THE RED DOOR
You appeared upon the white shore on a dark and moonless eve. I led you through the stone gate, torches spitting in the breeze.
All around our palace glistened, splashed with waves up from the sea, but you shone bright as a thousand suns in your gown of ivory.
One thing, I asked of you my love as I combed your white-gold hair. Only stay your hand from the red door, the red door beneath the stairs.
The red door under the stairs, the red door ‘neath the stairs. Stay your hand from that old, black lock. There’s nothing to see in there.
Why do you stand so many hours staring out across the sea? Why do you slip out past the black drapes when I pretend that I’m asleep?
And even in the bright sun as we walk the bone-white beach. You put your ear to the whispering shells and turned away from me.
Red in your dress’s hem tonight, a red flash in your
eye. Why the tremor in your soft hands when I pull
you to my side?
The red door and what’s inside, the red door and all it hides. Stare away across the ocean waves, but I know what you’ve seen tonight.

GENTLEMEN
Gentlemen, I tell you now, I swear the truth.
I saw the table rise, the teacup flew.
From tempered glass I built the apparatus to alight in the presence of phantasmus. Filaments within detect a change, in aero-pressure, barometric waves.
Gentlemen, in the name of science! Gentlemen, I now can prove:  the unseen world is close, it pushes through.
Gentlemen, the lights blew out! Gentlemen, the curtains moved! A world of light resides just past our view.
Within the crooks of vacuum tubes a caged spirit lit aglow the room. Burst forth from the shattered tube. It thinned my blood, burnt me, ravaged cruel.
Gentlemen, the lights do flicker! Gentlemen, the air it cools! Who’s with me here, listening in this room?
Gentlemen, the world grows dark! Gentlemen, the curtains moved! Who’s with me here, whispering in
this room?

KING OF DUST
I dreamed that I was flying above the glittering world, but I woke up in the bar ditch, car ready to explode.
Hanging upside down in the front seat of my truck.
The scream of grinding metal. 40 cars piling up.
Nothing rusts in the desert. The air is full of ghosts. Cliffs painted with the old gods, rabbit brush full
of bones.
Oh, Coronado, king of dust, the desert never cared
what you saw when you stared into the sun.
Ancient oceans have been lost beneath this shifting
clay where conquistadors in silver hunted Cibola
across the plains.
But there are no golden cities only trailer parks and dust and angels only fly here when you drive into the sun.
Nothing rusts in the desert. The air is full of ghosts. Cliffs painted with the old gods, rabbit brush full
of bones.
Oh, Coronado, king of dust, the desert never cared
what you saw when you stared into the sun.


GREEN WILLOW VALLEY
Like the moon pulls on the water and the water pulls the sand. Like starlight drifts a billion years to flicker once above your head.
The cicadas in the oak trees are singing to the sky and I am calling out to you across this silent night.
Come back to the valley, the green willow valley. In the cool of the evening , I’m waiting here for you.
Can you feel the wings of birds whisper cross the sky? Can you hear the blades of grass calling to the light?
There are rivers underground rushing cold and wild and I am calling out to you from across the lonely night.
Come back to the valley, the green willow valley. In cool of the evening I’m waiting here for you.
We’ll lie under the willows in a bed of fallen leaves. I will bring you apples and water from the stream.
I will pull the thorns from your blistered feet. Can’t you hear me calling in the whisper of the trees?
Come back to the valley, the green willow valley. In cool of the evening I’m waiting here for you.