1. about the name
We got the name
from drunk-thin air,
told everyone it was
the name
of a ghost-witch girl.
It’s fine with me
that you’ve forgotten,
or never knew,
that it was meant to be
the name of the band.
2. pretties for you
The smeared makeup,
the witch-derived moniker,
and our darkside noise that
cleared rooms — looking back,
I can see we were
the flipside of Stevie Nicks,
a few years early.
3. easy action
Pull tab,
place can to lips,
tip head back,
rock out.
Repeat.
No one was listening anyway:
with the album not charting,
the gigs stopped coming, so
pull tab, discard tab (we could
in those days,) suck it down,
crawl to bed alone or not,
rock out, repeat,
repeat, repeat…
4. love it to death
…repeat. And then, no more.
We were different. We were
the same and different at once —
like it, love it, like it, love it.
But the best thing was
the last track, the last chant on side two
about the rising sun, the one
we didn’t write —
creepy and comforting
at once.
Exactly.
5. killer
They’d better love this snake.
They’d better love this face.
They’d better love these things we’ve pulled
out of death and sick disgrace.
Under the wheels,
the last vestiges of love and peace.
Things that fight, bleed, and decay
ought to hold their eyes and ears.
6. school’s out
We’ve got the kiddies now
and all the gory money
that comes our way
along with the vicious stares
of every parent in America —
who miss the point entirely.
We’re the perfect treat
for the perpetual Halloween
that every kid desires.
And to top it off,
flammable panties
in the album packaging!
What could we possibly do
to top that?
Anyone?
7. billion dollar babies
Rock out, repeat, repeat, repeat…
but damn, such a fine,
marketable cover on the thing. And
the hits kept coming, even though
we’d said it all before:
the main message of it:
“Please love the dead.”
8. muscle of love
We’ve shot the wad, burnt out the fuse,
we grossly pushed for the movie theme
and failed to get it in. Hell,
we dragged in Liza Minelli
for a cameo.
That stain on the cover
says it all: waterlogged and
trying to stay afloat.
9. looking back
A little rock, a little roll,
a lot of golf in the Arizona sun.
Boomer’s dream retirement,
and only one regret,
one comment to be made:
fuck you,
David Bowie,
for taking the smirk out of us,
for taking the mascara
somewhere I’d never imagined.
Dark Matter 