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My Blowgun Is My Best Friend (Laura & Ron)
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a blast-up, mad-cap ride in the direction of self-actualization
alternative electronica electronic duo jazz blues experimental keyboards french comedy francais cutting edge improv illness improvisation comic chanson chant chanting bhajan electronique drole experimentale chansons fibromyalgia comedie douleur
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A mix of music, poetry, chanson, bhajan, and a wee bit of madness, with Laura Tattoo at the keyboard (typing) and Ron Walker on instruments of every shape, size
. Laura is also the melodymaker of the team. Musical arrangements and instrumentation by Ron "Magic Fingers" Walker, also known to early fans as "Dr. Wong"... he'll swing you into the sunset with his incredible left-hand bass and beautiful chords. We are featuring some of Ron's instrumental music on Soundclick. Ron wrote music for film and video for many years, and you can really hear that influence in his songs. We're experimenting together and solo. Come fly with us, bebe!
Song Info
Genre
Alternative • Experimental
Charts
Peak #214
Peak in subgenre #41
Author
Laura Tattoo/Ron Walker
Rights
LT, 2008
Uploaded
May 22, 2009
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.6 MB • 64 kbps • 9:59
Story behind the song
Believe it or not folks, this was an older poem of mine that was edited, performed and recorded all at the same time! I sang, Ron followed on the keyboards. It was bone-chillingly synched! xoxoxoxoxo
Lyrics
used to be a crow used to be a big black monolith shooting through the air like an arrow at zero used to be a sparrow used to be a sweet brown darling bushels of them pecking in the bushes in the brushes under cover flitting and fluttering used to be a ghost used to be a raucous rage machine fast sleeping escaping time suicide fast upon the mind dying the easy ride outta town used to be love's passion used to be in fashion, with rations of pillows and pussycats and beautiful eyes that sparkled in the candle light used to be a marriage used to be a baby carriage and all that comes with that diapers and silly shoes peter rabbit and breast milk used to be a teenage nightmare used to be a desperado running from city to town on a thumbed down truck this side of San Antonio used to be a princess and someone else the prince we'd live way off in a rock band on the side of a cliff, we were tipped and tripping used to be a naked child bare-assed and never satisfied lightning bugs at midnight barbecues at twilight, what a riot laughing at Gilligan's Island used to be a baby bunting used to be carried on a hip used to be left in a car seat carsick, a bottle of coke to help bear down with the throttle now it's a blowgun now a blowgun metamorphosis it's easily offended easily upended and shedding its skin it's a poem without a rim blowgun dreams make for midnight screenings, mysteries just say please, don't wait in the shadows, come out with your hands up over your head my blowgun shoots from the hip it rips my skin and reveals bone beneath i've a mind to put it down but it's alive and it's angry and it never will give in from bird to blowgun in one fell swoop, a gun with wings on either side and beady little bird eyes and feathers shed in springtime a blowgun is my best friend? what does that say about me? blowguns can't be rented out they're invented by their bird sisters and shouted out Boom! Bang! Crash! Clang! the end is so very near, and so my dear, I sing an elegy for me because my blowgun is sticking into my mouth down my throat straight into my lungs with its long cold barrel and the metal stings as it flashes out its pellets my blowgun is my best friend I'll sing it to the ocean I'll sing it when I'm old I'll sing it when I'm cold I'll sing it I'll sing it I'll sing it when I'm dead and no longer anyone's friend when I'm ashes and water and sizzling slaughter that blowgun makes one meaty metamorphosis will you recognize me when i'm eighty and three? i'll have a bullet-proof vest against my sagging breasts 'cause my blowgun is my best defense it points only to me it's a weapon of self-destruction no matter how weak i get my blowgun can always single me out of a crowd my blowgun is my best friend it keeps creeping in the halls and is quiet on the steps it's hungry and human and ready for death that is why i say best friend that is why i say best friend that's why i say best friend it's a stealth bomber for the ego i've transformed before i'll transform again but this blowgun is going nowhere she'll stay at my hip she'll keep me a strict diet of cognition, of self-immolation, self-abolition, self-denigration a regime of open-ended consciousness, an all-night vigil for the beloved's breath what? blowgun what? blowgun what? blowgun what? focus aim fire i'm done for copyrighted by Laura Tattoo, 2008
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