W.A. Fite
Courtesy James Villa Photography 2012
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Stream "Poisoning The Medicine Tree" @ Bandcamp.com
"Poisoning The Medicine Tree" long play by W.A. Fite, 12 song streaming available @ http://wafite.bandcamp.com .
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
My Hand The Handle
I was afraid to open the door. Afraid of the handle and of the turn.
I was afraid to open the door. Afraid of what I knew I would learn.
Looked at the handle, looked at my hand. Noticed it's paint chips, noticed it's slant.
I was afraid to open the door. Thinking it's stance was maligned, but true.
I was afraid to open the door. Thinking I'd stumble, slip right through.
Reached for the handle, gave it a turn.
It's bolt clicked at going and finally I knew...
As I stood looking through that open door, the nothing I saw was simply the floor.
I was afraid to open the door. Afraid of what I knew I would learn.
Looked at the handle, looked at my hand. Noticed it's paint chips, noticed it's slant.
I was afraid to open the door. Thinking it's stance was maligned, but true.
I was afraid to open the door. Thinking I'd stumble, slip right through.
Reached for the handle, gave it a turn.
It's bolt clicked at going and finally I knew...
As I stood looking through that open door, the nothing I saw was simply the floor.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Lyrics: Sergeant F. Head
Sergeant Head walks his line to view his prisoners; smell their crimes. His stick goes click from side-to-side, his lips smacked hard, his teeth clenched wide.
He picks the ones who live or die. He picks the ones who make him smile. The whince and beg is what he'll claim, the pride in which keep him sustained. He's riding high up on the wind. That Sergeant Head's old dirty grin.
Sergeant Head walks his line to view the women in their prime. His stick goes click from side-to-side, his tongue wagged hard, his teeth sneered wide.
He picks the girls to be his bride. He picks the ones who like to cry. The whince and beg is what he'll claim, the pride in which keep him sustained. He's riding high up on the wind. That Sergeant Head's old dirty grin.
One day he woke up from his sleep to see a new line forming deep. He combed his mane and wiped his eyes and stepped outside to greet the line...
"Move aside and take him from my line. Move aside and take her from my line."
That's the sign, to take a wife.
"Move along and take him from my line. Move along and take her from my line."
That's the sign, to take a life.
"What's her name? Please take her from my line. What's her name? I'll put her by my side."
Now's the time to beg with tears.
I'd say, "Pause. Take a breath try again from here."
"Oh, just take him from my line. What a wreck. I'll put him on this line."
Now's the time to say a prayer.
I'd say, "Stop. Hold your breath try again from here."
"Oh, where's that pretty little one? Such a tease...always crying on my feet."
I'd say, "Stop. Hold your breath, count it back from ten."
She'd say, "Please...OH NO, no no no no no!!!"
That's the sign, to take a life.
He picks the ones who live or die. He picks the ones who make him smile. The whince and beg is what he'll claim, the pride in which keep him sustained. He's riding high up on the wind. That Sergeant Head's old dirty grin.
Sergeant Head walks his line to view the women in their prime. His stick goes click from side-to-side, his tongue wagged hard, his teeth sneered wide.
He picks the girls to be his bride. He picks the ones who like to cry. The whince and beg is what he'll claim, the pride in which keep him sustained. He's riding high up on the wind. That Sergeant Head's old dirty grin.
One day he woke up from his sleep to see a new line forming deep. He combed his mane and wiped his eyes and stepped outside to greet the line...
"Move aside and take him from my line. Move aside and take her from my line."
That's the sign, to take a wife.
"Move along and take him from my line. Move along and take her from my line."
That's the sign, to take a life.
"What's her name? Please take her from my line. What's her name? I'll put her by my side."
Now's the time to beg with tears.
I'd say, "Pause. Take a breath try again from here."
"Oh, just take him from my line. What a wreck. I'll put him on this line."
Now's the time to say a prayer.
I'd say, "Stop. Hold your breath try again from here."
"Oh, where's that pretty little one? Such a tease...always crying on my feet."
I'd say, "Stop. Hold your breath, count it back from ten."
She'd say, "Please...OH NO, no no no no no!!!"
That's the sign, to take a life.
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