In those murderbeds of men and wives Final quickest trip She took a gun

In those murderbeds of men and wives
Final quickest trip

She took a gun, a thirty-one
Put her tongue to the bluesteel tip

Oh funky cities
Mobile's paper mills
I swim in the bay
And get laid by day
And cry for my love all the night

Protestant Work Ethic Blues

Rising up in the morning
Looking down at yourself in bed
Oh rising up in the morning
Seeing your pale old body matter-of-factually dead
Oh blue
Never too white to sing the blues

Getting yourself together
Pulling day and night apart
Oh getting yourself together
Staring hard at your laminated astrological chart
Oh blue
Never too white to sing the blues

Sitting up in your plastic chair
Swallowing down some frozen toast
Oh catching that old broken window train
Take you to the place
The place
The place
Take you to the place that you hate the most

Oh yeah

Protestant work ethic blues
You got those white collar blues

Dropping down behind your desk
Crumpled in a puddly heap
Oh dropping down behind your desk
Waiting for the strength to take that existential leap
Oh blue
Never too white to sing the blues

Falling off to sleep and weep
In your three-poster bed
Oh falling off to deep dark sleep
You find yourself wearing a mask over your original head
Oh blue
Never too white to sing the blues

Protestant work ethic blues
Tough to shake those blues

Diamond Stylus

Sounds I see
Breaking through the hard light
Razor notes
Close to someone's throat
Re-ject
Is the mark along the arm
Long-play
Is the enemy

Songs I touch
Wheeling through the soft night
Tracking force
Is the way I die

It scratched out lines on my face
Test pressing time
It pained me so it pained me so
Drying out the vinyl

Sound is hard to child-bear
Skin inked black
Turning into burning thing
Circling into wordtime

Words I taste
Dripping through the knife's bite
Needle tracks
Marking up the snow
Re-volve
Is the time I have to live
Ma-trix
Is the mother-cut

Notes I play
Twinkling through the bird's flight
Tracking force
Is the way I die

They give me five hundred hours
One thousand sides
Numbering down the broken sounds
Scratching out a life

Sound is hard to child-bear
Skin inked black
Turning into burning thing
Circling into wordtime

Sounds I see
Breaking through the hard light
Razor notes
Close to someone's throat
Re-ject
Is the mark along the arm
Long-play

Is the enemy

"Cold War Lover"

Words-and-music Bucky Wunderlick
Copyright ? 1969 Teepee Music
All rights administered Transparanoia Inc.

"Protestant Work Ethic Blues"
Words-and-music Wunderlick-Azarian
Copyright ? 1970 Teepee Music
All rights administered Transparanoia Inc.

"Diamond Stylus"
Words-and-music Bucky Wunderlick
Copyright ? 1970 Teepee Music
All rights administered Transparanoia Inc.

Complete transcript of interview conducted by Steven Grey, editor-in-chief of Ibex, a Journal of Rock Art,fake uggs.

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