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Viaje

by Jason Webley

/
1.
Prelude 02:02
The weeks slip through our fingers like the dry sand blowing across the dunes, Swept into a cardboard box filled with forgotten photographs and abandoned songs. The past few years are illuminated only by the dim glow of a sun setting in the east It's almost night. I scour the landscape trying to make out your familiar shape against the horizon. But it's amazing how rarely our paths cross considering we share the same bed. The sand stings my face and I keep walking, keep looking. And I can barely make out the sound of my own voice beneath the wind: Maybe we'll be alone.
2.
Without 05:01
The darkness will be here in an hour, To leave me completely alone with my fears, insecurities, And the ghost of a face that walked into a crowd, And out of this chapter of my life. You've come a long way, you've got a long way to go. Ain't nothing steady about the rhythm of the road. And in fifteen seconds, the years flash by and I'm gone.. Brand new highway, the world on my back, And nowhere to go but on. Tilt back my head, listen to the motor moan. Look back, look ahead, baby we'vebeen alone. And baby we'll be alone. But that's alright, I'll hold you tight Through the long arms of the night. And maybe in the morning, I'll call you on the phone. On the edge, I'm gonna jump. See I've got to, the ticket's bought and I've already checked my bag. But we've got half an hour, let's sit and have a drink. Talk a bit, a little kiss, then it's into the abyss. I've fallen before, I've got a few falls to go. Once you start falling, you know you never really know. You can overthrow the world, pass the day upon its thrown, But you wake up in the morning, thinking maybe you've been alone. And maybe you'll be alone. Baby, we'll be alone.
3.
Halloween 03:10
Do you hear that sound Beneath the rustling autumn leaves? You can't hear the word, But you know just what they mean. You've gotta tap your toes against the ground, So all the bones can hear the sound, To let them know below that you believe. When you hear those spirits calling, There ain't no use to fight. We'll trade faces with the shadows And change voices with the night. Do you feal that glow behind the rottingwillow tree? Something in there knows muchmore than you can see. It says there's a task ahead of you, So dawn the mask and down the brew, And peer into the sphere of history. Icklemuck puddlewuck, ting ling zsu. Chulatat Psilophat, mug wump chu. When the church bell sounds And the sky drips down, ain't nothing is a sin. So we'll taste the ground while we dance around Underneath each other's skin. When the raven calls your name And the barn owl starts her flight, We'll trade faces with the shadows And change voices with the night. When you hear those spirits calling, There ain't no wrong or right. We'll trade faces with the shadows And change voices with the night.
4.
La Mesilla 01:53
On an empty bus at midnight at the border between two worlds, Neither of which knows my name. Mosquitos and the driver's snores weave a lullaby around my wrists, That feels like handcuffs. After hours of motion, watching the world spin by Through a one and a half foot by one and a half foot portal, I am in complete stillness. And I feel that I am suffering from lack-of-motion sickness. I close my eyes and the world spins by, Taking me to the edge of my mind. I open my eyes and the sky unfolds. There's no more mystery about eternity.
5.
Postcard 05:45
This is where I am. Where are you? Message in a bottle or a time bomb? It's hard to think it matters when everything is on, A delay line three weeks long. This is a picture I never saw. And these are words I never said. This is a lie I could never tell. This is where I am, where are you? Send me a postcard.
6.
We're on a rocket to God. Agatha's on a rocket to God. etc...
7.
Wake up in a room where steel guitars, Turn to steel bars,. You know I've lived here to long. Try to write these songs about being bored, Why am I so surprised when they all prove boring songs? The second hand holds still while the hour hand slips by. I don't know just how long I've been here. I'll just stare out the window and contemplate the sky, While I grow older than my years. Plucking strings at the site of my bed, By a stack of books most of which I've never read. I want to capture in sound the way things are, But I'd regret it in the morning if I smashed my guitar. Well they're never going to tell us just what's coming around the bend, But there's one thing I can count on, That's that old man time is not my fucking friend. For the reaper lurks in stillness, but motion too is death. Me, I float between them, moving in and out to the rhythm of my breath.
8.
Put our children in this ground, You were in the kitchen while I sat and watched them drown. Put the killing in this sound, So I could have it handy, 'case those devils come around again. Cut the poison into thirds, Held it to our lips and drank to chat with the absurd, There's a kind of song I heard, I think that I could sing it if I knew just how the words begin. Thought I was a violent flame, The longer that I stare I think that flame looks pretty tame. So if this is really just a game, I'm going to need a hand now, 'cause the pieces aren't the same this time. Now it's going to take a miracle I buried time inside your breast. I had to, it felt like it was kicking in my chest.. I put a lie inside each breath. I've been sleeping all these years now, but I never really seem to rest. Now it's going to take a miracle.
9.
I want music that tears itself apart And takes the lot of you with it. I need a catchy tune like a bullet in the heart. So come on old and young, Sing while your teeth grind through your tongues, We're making music that tears itself apart. I want sobs that shake my spine like an earthquake. I want to laugh like cities crashing down. While a thousand slender dames Keep chaniting out my name, So loud the gods will never forget my sound. I'll practice breathing fire in missle silos. All the ambassadors admire me for my tact. I've sailed all seven seas And every port's made of ricotta cheese, And it's time we start acknowledging the fact. I'll roll the earth into a cigar and smoke it, Just after I've made love with the sky. I'll have a little chat with time before I choke it, And teach all theeartworms how to fly. I've got an army of lunatics armed with CB radios patrolling the subways, And a warehouse full of underpaid workers transcribing everything they say. So if you're lucky and I feel the itch, maybe I'll go through those manuscripts, And publish the Great American Novel someday.
10.
I think that we can breathe now, the world is over. Send all the children over now, Red Rover. I guess the world stopped spinning when supply somehow met demand. Uncashed paycheck in my pocket, atom bombs in Pakistan. Now I'm sitting on a bus, a shade too tired to be annoyed... While two human avocados a shade too loudly discuss Freud. But that's okay, The experts say, At least the air is clearer now. I think that we can breathe now, the world is over. We're standing in a field of nine-leaf clover. Sipping tea in an oasis, while we watch the desert spread, And we're counting on our virtues, 'cause it's too hard to count the dead. There's a pretty girl beside me, I think she wants to hold my hand. But she's speaking in a tongue I think I'll never understand. But that's okay, The experts say, At least the air is clearer now. I think that we can breathe now, the world is over... We had our chances to be fighters, Now we're burnt out twenty something poetry writers. Yeah, I guess we all can breathe now, the world is over. Guess there's nothing really left to do, But seal our eyes and nostrils up with glue, And observe the sticky residue that's all that's left of me and...

about

My first album, recorded quickly and simply in the kitchen. This isn't my best work, but it is the rawest and maybe the most honest. "Viaje" contains several of my signature songs: "Without", "Old Man Time Ain't No Friend of Mine", and "Music That Tears Itself Apart".

"Insightful and earnest songs bring you to tears. Make you sob like your mother died. Then, with his genius showing like toilet paper on the shoe of a priest, Webley turns his music into a drunken bar fight." - Pop Culture Press

credits

released July 3, 1998

All songs ©1998 by Jason Webley.
Recorded in the kitchen.
Mixed & Mastered at Emerald City Productions.
Cover photograph by Sean Lyon.
With: Vernallis (8, 9), Sean Lyon (7), and a bunch of drunks.

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Jason Webley Seattle

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