Amputation
What would I have done
If I had lost my true love
In my soul’s summer
Your love has made another person a part of you. To have that other person ripped away is like an amputation. The aching stump makes sleep impossible most nights. Disturbing dreams accompany brief periods of fitful rest. Waking up you have that fleeting hope that she’s beside you. Or perhaps something you can do today will bring her back. Walking down the street she might be with you, a shadow self. Talking to her you’re aware that she’s a phantom now. You miss the best part of her, the part that responds to you.
Or perhaps you simply miss how she looked in a hat, or the smell of her, or the warmth and relaxation you felt when you embraced her at the airport. At that moment it didn’ty matter whether you or she were leaving or whether you or she had arrived, because there you were hugging happily. Do you remember the way she laughed? Wry chuckles. Open throated expostulations. A smile.
Love is like war. It’s often hard to assign a cause. The beginnings and the endings are fuzzy. Veterans often appear calloused, self protective, adopting behaviors that they hope conceal the depth of the feelings they’ve experienced.
The artist is in a peculiar position. The best have shed their integument and become one with it all. There’s a risk associated with this shedding. The nerves are exposed. A few tears can burn like acid. It’s like…
Johnny’s in the basement
Mixing up the medicine
I’m on the pavement
Thinking about the government
The man in the trench coat
Badge out, laid off
Says he’s got a bad cough
Wants to get it paid off
Look out kid
It’s somethin’ you did
God knows when
But you’re doin’ it again
You better duck down the alley way
Lookin’ for a new friend
The man in the coon-skin cap
In the big pen
Wants eleven dollar bills
You only got ten
Maggie comes fleet foot
Face full of black soot
Talkin’ that the heat put
Plants in the bed but
The phone’s tapped anyway
Maggie says that many say
They must bust in early May
Orders from the D. A.
Look out kid
Don’t matter what you did
Walk on your tip toes
Don’t try “No Doz”
Better stay away from those
That carry around a fire hose
Keep a clean nose
Watch the plain clothes
You don’t need a weather man
To know which way the wind blows
Get sick, get well
Hang around a ink well
Ring bell, hard to tell
If anything is goin’ to sell
Try hard, get barred
Get back, write braille
Get jailed, jump bail
Join the army, if you fail
Look out kid
You’re gonna get hit
But users, cheaters
Six-time losers
Hang around the theaters
Girl by the whirlpool
Lookin’ for a new fool
Don’t follow leaders
Watch the parkin’ meters
Ah get born, keep warm
Short pants, romance, learn to dance
Get dressed, get blessed
Try to be a success
Please her, please him, buy gifts
Don’t steal, don’t lift
Twenty years of schoolin’
And they put you on the day shift
Look out kid
They keep it all hid
Better jump down a manhole
Light yourself a candle
Don’t wear sandals
Try to avoid the scandals
Don’t wanna be a bum
You better chew gum
The pump don’t work
‘Cause the vandals took the handles
Copyright © 1965; renewed 1993 Special Rider Music
