tom jessen's dimestore outfit
redemption
©1996

highway 3 west     [Windows Media]   [Quicktime]

eating that slice of moon from an open car window
made you howl
let's see how fast this thing can go
put it to the ground
the radio's kind of busted, you gotta mess with it a bit
to get a good sound
pull it over let's go get lost in the cornfields
with that bottle of royal crown
no sign of life on either horizon we lay down on that dividing line
it cuts us in half go forward or go back
either way just don't seem right
what about jenny, you left her standing alone back there
she'll wonder where you are
you say you'd love to lie there forever
idled there on the tar

I'd give five hundred dollars for something true
everything I got in this pocket change too
I keep thinking about when she slipped her hand in mine
hard to find anything that seems more right

gabrielle    [Windows Media]   [Quicktime]

I was so pumped I called my girl gabrielle
I told her I was picking her up on my new motorcycle
and we're gonna drive around town
feel so high nothing's gonna bring us down
sneaking in the night trying not to make a sound
sitting in the dark kissing on the couch
oh I love my girl gabrielle
oh I love my new motorcycle
oh I love my new gabrielle
oh I love my girl motorcycle

shitforsaken    [Windows Media]   [Quicktime]

stop the car and I'll ask this guy where we are
you said we can't go on like this
well I think it's fun just driving in the sun
happy to vacate the nest
that town was a dead end where everyone tried to pretend
that they weren't all chained and bound
well I tired of not knowing where I'm going
but at least we're not sitting around

throw your stuff in the back of my car
don't leave your regards
then no one will know where we are
every road's right when you don't have a clue
but the best thing now, judy, is just being with you

the pavement's there for anyone who dares
making it one their own
with what little money we got we can do one hellava lot
but we got to find a new home

can you see the lights coming up this town is ours for the taking
the people back there they were going nowhere the town was shitforsaken
so come on judy, you know I love you truly
you're driving my car and I'm playing your guitar
singing country music to you all day long

57 chevy      [Windows Media]   [Quicktime]  [Real Audio]     

surrounded by snow and friends I don't know
I drive by that 57 chevy in the lot
I'm putting in my time but it's too slow going by
pretending to get wise and quit my job

got enough money to buy that 57
turn the radio on and I'm just floating over the pavement
there ain't nothing back there
I haven't already found

Bobby's found work as a daytime cook
but that don't make him any less lost as me
behind the black-barred prison
lacking in decision
easy to settle for blind picket fence security

judy is scared thinking she's in love with someone else
her pictures lying shotgun next to me
I'm going to write her a letter
telling her maybe it's better
than a straightjacket smile in the passenger's seat

some other day    [Windows Media]   [Quicktime]

slumped over the bar with my
head down
three cheers for the last six beers
they gave me momentary loss of my pain
build a barricade around that
pay phone
thirty-five cents and whiskey encouragement
but I ain't got nothing to gain
pushing two in the morning where's
the next round
foley is shaking his head
he thinks I better go home
it's coming on snow but I want to be
face down
pull the blanket over my head
and bury me in the gutter all alone

well my brash contradictions got me in trouble again
fish flip flop on desolate dry sand
whistling drunk lies through the holes in my teeth
all too deadpan

tell her dry that I
left town
I taped her photograph to the dash
I'll forget her some other day

do as yer told    [Windows Media]   [Quicktime]

I bought a 69 dodge dart it cleaned me out dry
raining so hard the wipers hypnotize
I left a wake of leaves
a girl on the sly
a chained up mutt
and the sheriff sleepy-eyed
I'm going to hide under leaves and live in sidewalk cracks
my double take ghosts, they're straining their necks
tie your shoelaces tight
and spit on your soles
wooden nickel pinch of salt
do as yer told
momma had a baby and his head popped off

no place unlike home    [Windows Media]   [Quicktime]

with a half a pack of smokes
and a hand shake from my folks
I left that old town buried
scarecrow phone poles
but I set the cruise control
these Iowa plates tell the best story
with my feet on the dash
and tilted rearview mirror past
it seemed to make sense at the time
I thought there'd be a place some where
with a rail on the stairs
to keep me from falling over the side

well I'm in a new place but wearing the same old lost face
I guess it don't matter where you go
on the street in the rain, well it all seems the same
I guess there's no place unlike home

18th and davis review   [Windows Media]   [Quicktime]

well my home town paper is sitting in the box today
there's this article on the third page saying my old high school girl is getting married
my higher hopes are like bicycle spokes
we go round and round
she's become just another product of prop and circumstance
the girl I'm with now says I couldn't write my way out of a paper town like this
I'm an old dog at twenty-three scraping for new tricks
well my boredom reminds me I'm getting old
looking out on a city I don't know
newspaper clippings they've turned scared yellow
the romantics talk semantics only after a couple of glasses of vintage wine
and me I'm just trying to deal
people by the hand full are clinging to intangibles, I'm envious
when did I leave my naiveté to the previous
charlie has gone to minneapolis
he said he'd save a place for us

sad to think that time and place has digested
everybody is passing through my life like shots that almost hit
well I wish they would have wasted me away
spending too much time with drunks who've had their time
a story for everyday of the week
their half opened eyelids and yellow stained fingertips
so quiet sometimes you can hear their bones creek
odds are slim I'll be seeing them again
everybody has had their day
not to much to think about and even less to say
back in the midwest there's boys causing incidents
where backseat drivers rule
they got all night to kill
the book of murphy's laws
beneath the tires of their cars
driving far away

it was those fireflies eyes that tripped me back into summer...back when I took a phillips screwdriver and I carved my name in the soft brick behind the popcorn stand...then I headed back down to the carnival and watched all the lights and sounds spray out all over the town like some kind of unmanned fire hose that nobody wanted to control.

on the cuff    [Windows Media]   [Quicktime]

this town is slowly breaking my back
I can't pay for the drinks that I just drank
frankie is sitting here laughing about the checks he collects
that five dollar bill thrown around without regret
her talks the tall tale tongue
holes in pockets this lint ain't worth a dime
shooting nine ball with les just trying to waste time
going to go home and lay down for awhile
these dreams are the only thing that ease my mouth to a smile
suppose to rain tomorrow too

midwestern dreams
the front porch shade in old blue jeans
let's take that three fifty for a spin
I heard dawn will give it to you if you ask her to
she's faster than that piece of shit you got
I just got paid, what do you say
we'll grab some cigarettes and waste the day away
lying in the grass, you're talking out your hat
I think jane has got the perfect ass
It's hard every time she passes by

I got sleep in my eyes the sun went down and died
I head down to the matador lounge
lottie is going to give me one on the cuff
She's been there everyday of her life, she knows that it's rough
somebody is sitting on my stool

another saturday night   [Windows Media]   [Quicktime]

I hang up my apron and then I slide on my coat
hope the bus ain't too late it's my only ride home
well my old man left me his boots, now they're covered with grime
they're buried in the closest but tonight they'll spit shine
I drove those slave wages throughout the week
and nothing could be better than letting them all go free
and this town is full of has-beens before their time

well I ride my uncertainty like a hobo train
waiting for that boxcar door to slide
a hip pocket pint fuels thoughts of outside
settling for a crack of Saturday night
the lights always bleed when the townies scoop the loop
gus bruises with a gillete shave twitch and a red light punch lead foot
and alton hasn't moved since the last time I was here
he's stinking of cigars and whiskey sours
growing roots and a five o' clock beard
and the girls are painted like clowns playing the show
their three ring shenanigans assures a backseat ride home
and nobody here is thinking about Sunday night
well fate may deal me the darkest of deaths
and I suppose that'll have to suit me just fine
but the boys are all here and its in these moments I fear
that there will never be another Saturday night
there it went another Saturday night

sanctuary    [Windows Media]   [Quicktime]

mom keeps sending me rosaries
the world's barely standing on wooden legs now
activist complaints and atrocities
there's dust collecting on my window blinds

in Iowa you can see for miles
the sun's coming out it's a good day for a drive
everything looks fine behind this windshield when you're driving by
but everybody's got their two cents worthless
leave this town with the window down tonight

soapbox strangers are boring me
with anecdotes and confessional soliloquies
talk about the weather, shit, their waxing hurricanes
tornado gut wrench, well we're due for some rain
old friends stopping by unexpectedly
just more explanations I'm not up for
I don't have the passion to recap and convert
through silent reactions I can see I was expected more
leave this town with the window down tonight

one by one all my heroes turned soar
they say your taste buds are the first to go
you just can't trust much when each day something else crumbles
no need to know much when you're all alone

everybody's clutching better ideas idled in pockets
the devil's playing with lint balls these days
can't even hear myself think over their talking
would be cooks with hand-written recipes
leave this town with the windows down
a four-wheel sanctuary
all I need in my room is a broom and I'll keep it crystal clean

supply and demand   [Windows Media]   [Quicktime]   [Real Audio]

you wonder why I can never look you in the eye
well I've memorized every pattern on this floor
her eyes are so naked I feel as if I'm intruding
if I look at them too long
I projected you deceptive emotion like a summer vacation slide show
but I guess there was something else behind that holiday smile
your ballet mirages and my one-way economics
falls prey to wistful invention
I'll supply the expectations and demand that you be true
I know I'm talking clichés and turning verbal tricks
but even the cheesiest love songs in a bar
turn profound when your three sheets to the wind
I could change this whiskey to water
but to you it's just pathetic heresy
sometimes when there's nothing left to do
I sit stacked and smoke myself silly
and make myself break down
because I guess I feel it's the thing I should do

I could toss around the word love like a boomerang
but I lost my catcher's mask
and you wear your skepticism with rubber boots
and chastity wrapped in a cast

maybe the mailbox might hold simple salvation
I've seen the future in a crystal glass of beer
and I ain't pretending that I understand a thing
but this ignorance is blistering
but open wounds dry clean

blanket, tombstone, feather   [Windows Media]   [Quicktime]

looking for the big trees and crooked sidewalks
the hideaway porch that sees all
cunning relics of autumn street corners
sitting incognito under amber waves of leaves
spider branches hanging high in the Indian wind
I can feel your soft shoulders under flannel whispers
with a dream in my hand
I can build my blanket, tombstone, feather
there's a table against the window
my jackknife pathos is finding in the shade
and from behind the screen door well it's sounding like
a victrola kind of rain
listen to the rain

prodigal son    [Windows Media]   [Quicktime]

well I look to the sky but all I see
is that big blue umbrella
that's keeping cathartic rains from falling on my head
silhouette snippets and thoughts like crickets
making all kinds of racket
with rationalizations of time well spent
well my head's been filled with blanks and bullets
and I don't have control of either one
all of these head wounds are self-inflicted
and maliciously situated
like that lonely chair propped up against heaven's doorknob
self-induced religions bare fruit only when faith falls floundering

well I've waded through false beliefs
and seeping skin from the girls along the streets
balancing the bible and the american dream on my head
with outstanding debts in the passage of time
but old photographs are epitaphs with a little grace and insight

I've seen it on my faces
estranged redemption with all its blemishes
being backed by popular demand
well what good are these heroes
riding ideas on downward spirals
their words are from no language I can use here

thirty miles shy of omaha
I wondered what I'd just done
then I realized I'm finally living in the moment
this highway is pink with conversion
lord have mercy for these hometown citadels
the prodigal son is home, won't you wish him well