Tape and Old Crepe Paper

In the splendor of the twilight,
Just a distant vapor —
A trailin’ Tradewind passes by.
Such a long way from the midway to the midnight.
Tape and old crepe paper,
Is my farewell party in the sky.

But I always cry
At a long goodbye.
I guess it’s somethin’ I saw in a movie.
So let the credits roll
On a good time toll.
I can’t take it so bring it to me.
Bring it to me.
Nail my feet back on the ground.

I been hammered, I been drilled and welded,
Into some sad stranger,
Into a restless conversation piece.
And every fingerprint of every debutant who ever held it,
In some manilla manger —
Sacred files my soul cannot release.

But there aint no peace
With the soul police.
They always already heard your story.
Well they just bust your trust
And there aint no justice.
Shades of Peter Lorre.
Peter Lorre
And the peace I never found.

I seen Jesus Christ in a vision of a blues club basement.
Like Howlin’ Wolf and Dante,
Wearin’ Robert Johnson’s thorny crown.
But that vision’s gone now and there just aint no replacement.
So don’t play Three-Card Monte,
With your soul in a cup somewhere downtown.

And it goes around
And it comes around
And the game’s all speed and fury.
But the fix is in
‘Cause there aint no sin.
It’s just a man and a buck in a hurry.
Hurry, step right up.
Young man you’re glory bound.

In the splendor of the twilight,
Just a distant vapor —
A trailin’ Tradewind passes by.
Such a long way from the midway to the midnight.
Tape and old crepe paper,
Is my farewell party in the sky.

 

“Tape and Old Crepe Paper” appeared on The Bathroom Tapes demo, 1987.


© and ℗ 1987 Marques Bovre