Midnight on the boulevard, you know that I been looking hard
For someplace I can rest my bones
The dumpster’s growing tentacles and the alley’s drawing animals
And my shoes are filling up with stones
headlights all around me flash and splash and try drown me
as invisibly I make my way
billboards, with their promises of futures bleak and ominous
saying everything’s gonna be okay
there’s holy men in beggar’s clothes, schoolgirls in their pantyhose
policemen dressing for the raid
anyplace I sit or stand I’m in the way of the marchingband
or some exclusive VIP parade
Got a ticket to ride the rocket putting a hole right through my pocket
They say they’ve got her loaded, gassed and primed
With nothing else to recommend, and no regards to leave or send
I think I’ll go and get in line
If tomorrow I just disappeared,
I’m not sure that I’d be missed
The answer’s not a part of me
I only know there’s gotta be more to life than this
The sheriff and his band of droogs is out tonight in one of their moods
They say they’re looking for the saboteurs
Nobody seems to know a thing, and as for the fellas in the ring
They’s just settling up old scores
Diamond Joe and his brother Ace spoke of meeting up someplace
As an act of service to their queen
They’d been assigned a mission that may have required demolition
By now they’re probably blown to smithereens
There’s blood smeared on the mantlepiece of every house on Market St
I’ve heard it’s precautionary for the plague
But as for how it’s sposed to help, you gotta figure that one out yourself
The instructions left were pretty vague
You can follow the road to nowhere or you can take it from one who’s been there
who drank the kool-aid from the source
haul in your anchor, hoist your sails, don’t look back, if all else fails
shout for “Mercy!” til your voice goes hoarse
If tomorrow were all I had
I’d blow it one last lover’s kiss
I’m not one to act modestly
I only know there’s gotta be more to life than this—
I got here around six o’clock, the breadlines already down the block
The hopeless ones have placed their bets
The early birds have all skipped town, the ones a little bit further down
don’t even know what they’re in line to get
The grocer’s peddling contraband with a stick of dynamite in his hand
He’s always asking for the time
We’ve been through the whole thing twice, but even if he lowered the price
Could anybody spare a dime?
Patience is a virtue, too much of anything will hurt you
Therefore—whatever’s a man to do?
I’m just waiting on my payday, but even so it’s only Monday
And I need something to look forward to
Disguised as one of my former selves, I followed the casino bells
dealer told me fate was mine to choose
I had the king, the ace, the ten, but I told him to go and hit me again
Cause I only ever play to lose
If tomorrow I struck it rich
I’m not sure I’d feel bliss
Accustomed to my poverty
I only know there’s gotta be more to life than this
You can take pill to get out of bed, another one’ll clear your head
A third will get you out the door
I once had a prescription that fit precisely that description
If you need some, I can get some more—
There’s a drink to keep you awake all day, another to take the pain away
And another yet to help you get it back
There’s a problem solved by every drug, but as for never knowing love
I don’t know if I can help with that—
The doctor’s out, he called in sick, took something he thought would do the trick
But that was way back in july
His secretary says she’s his friend, but I’ve heard her tell a few since then
he’s just been waiting around to die
Left alone with his memories, transfixed in his reveries
The prisoner, in his cell, stands tall
Reflects upon coincidence, weighs the price of innocence
And adds another tally to his wall
If tomorrow, I walked out of here
I’d be happy just to exist
Meanwhile there’s a lotta me
That only knows there’s gotta be more to life than this
feeling like a change of scene, I moved into a submarine
I tried to write you though I was feeling full
The envelopes, still unaddressed, accumulated in a chest
That I ejected through the torpedo hole
someday when I’m dust and ash, they may wash up like so much trash
decorations for some pristine beach
To whomsoever findeth these, I send sincere apologies
I’m still out here, somewhere, out of reach
With nothing but my strength of will, my boulder and my stretch of hill
I once more for the thousandth time
Set my weight against the rock, imagine, but don’t check the clock
And gradually begin to climb
In the event I plummet sometime before I reach the summit
I hardly think it’s worth a frown
When you’ve only ever had it bad, the only thing that’ll make you glad
Is seeing the weight you dragged up roll back down
If tomorrow I wake up dead
I’d not protest, but I’d still wish—
that someone had only thought of me
reminded me that there’s gotta be more to life than this
Sam Steffen is a Pennsylvania-bred, Boise-based singer-songwriter whose songs are the torch-wood for a new generation of
folk music that has learned from the best stuff in the tradition and aims in spite of everything to keep the human spirit alive and kicking. A versatile musician and skilled finger-picker, Sam is at heart a story-teller, and a prolific one....more
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