The Brockenwilde Beast
Long time ago there lived a man a hunger artist by trade…
The cage he had built the bronze begging plate and remnants of the role he once played…
It’s said he was once a man of taste with a passion for garments and girls…
But games that he fell to in moments of haste drew black circles to enter his world…
All he wanted was to live free in the will and the way of the gentry…
A favored angel to hold his lamp a generous god in his land…
With an eye to his comforts his fondness of flesh he escaped the ambition to wed…
With an easy refrain that his fresh fallen maids weren’t white as the sheets on his bed…
Each festive spring he’d bridle his mare in the leather and brass of the hunt…
With chase to the mountain of legend and lore to the brockenwilde boar…
Darkwood taverns amber steins
She pours the master’s brew…
And tends his pipe a flaming brand
And leads him to his room…
He ventures to have her at any cost
She asks but to join on the morrow’s ride…
The inn and cobbles long behind
The hounds upon the trail…
She sits her steed with a certain ease
Through the darkness of the dale…
And rides to the heel of the brockenwilde
Sings to the hounds like a bitches child…
Round a deep glade tall shadows collide
Where the wild sisters dance on the eve…
To the circle he falls like a lamb to their lust
Machine to a madness conceived…
Walpurgis astride the dim fire of the moon
They scatter the brockenwilde seed…
To the priest he rendered his sable gowns and deeds to the family estate…
He lived in the cage that had housed his hounds and begged from their battered plate…
Salvation secured by the state of his art blessed in his wretchedness begging his feast…
Till the pity and bread he received from a lad with the eyes of the brockenwilde beast…
Flagg and Butchvarov
Down To Earth
I heard the radio…
Making heroes live on plastic wax…
Bring them down to earth…
Well who needs love when you’ve got rock and roll…
Well who needs love when you’ve got god to thank
For giving you your soul and it cries a lot…
I read the paper…
Telling lies about the daily news…
Bring them down to earth…
Well who needs love when you’ve got money in the bank…
Well who needs love when you’ve got god to thank
For everything you’re not you’re not satisfied…
Come on girls won’t you gather round…
Come and dance to this funny sound…
Spin your partner deep inside your heart…
Come on girls now don’t break down…
Come on girls won’t you gather round…
Come and dance to this funny sound…
Spin your partner deep inside your heart…
Come on girls now don’t break down…
I watch the network…
Making lunacy a common bond…
Bring them down to earth…
Well who needs love when you’ve got color TV…
Well who needs love when you’ve got god to thank
For everything you dream and you dream a lot…
Come on girls won’t you gather round…
Come and dance to this funny sound…
Spin your partner deep inside your heart…
Come on girls now don’t break down…
Bowers and Butchvarov
Gentle Messidor
I know a bachelor a good man at that
He liked to go to the public bath…
He would sit in the steam and his mind would decay…
His thoughts as hazy as the vapor…
His thoughts drifted back to a time
When life was something more…
Gentle messidor the shady wood…
The divine charms of a young woman…
Oh if only once could be sure of marrying a good natured girl…
Oh if only once could be sure of marrying a good natured girl…
She had the poise and arrogance slimness
Of a model right out of the storefront
In true life she was probably a whore
But whoa how was he to know…
Oh if only once could be sure of marrying a good natured girl…
Oh if only once could be sure of marrying a good natured girl…
With his luck he’d get a harridan
An old bag without any sense…
She’d blame him for her afterpains
As long as she lived…
Oh if only once could be sure of marrying a good natured girl…
Oh if only once could be sure of marrying a good natured girl…
CP Butchvarov
Mama Oh Mama
She lives on the mountain she lives in the sea…
She’s under your skin she’s in your deepest thoughts…
She wakes you in the morning she puts you off to sleep…
She makes you don your raingear she feels it when you hurt…
Mama oh mama Oh mama oh mama I’m comin home…
She walks in the shadows she bathes in the river…
She roams around the pasture she takes the pain we give…
She wonders why we hurt her when she’s all we’ll ever have…
But to the bitter end she gives us all her love…
Mama oh mama oh mama I’m comin home…
She loves us her children and lives to watch us grow…
She laughs at the fools we are she cries at war and hate…
I live with single purpose and I see I’m without power…
Before that gal I’m weak and I’ll gladly ride the road…
Oh mama oh mama oh mama oh mama I’m comin home…
She guides us in our dreams she fills our cups with wine…
She knows our secret wishes she keeps our clocks in time…
I saw her on a hillside her wings were poised for flight…
She sang a song of mourning and flew off in the night…
Mama oh mama oh mama when you coming home…
Oh mama oh mama when you comin home…
CP Butchvarov
Permanent Peace
A banana regime a right to bear arms
Nationalistic pride to protect your farms
God damn the men who would take your life
To satisfy their search for truth…
Would you give Laura my number
Would you give permanence to peace
Would you please tell her I love her
Love isn’t something that goes to the grave
With one who is willing to give…
Would you throw down your arms
To make your retreat
Or would you die hard in a fiery heat
You believer of things so often unclear
To pass the cultural test…
Would you give Laura my number
Would you give permanence to peace
Would you please tell her I love her
Love isn’t something that goes to the grave
With one who is willing to give…
Would you give Laura my number
Would you give permanence to peace
Would you please tell her I love her
Love isn’t something that goes to the grave
With one who is willing to give…
CP Butchvarov
Poster Boy
Wanna be your poster boy
Thumbtack me to your wall
And I’ll be yours tonight…
Wanna be your poster boy
Thumbtack me to your wall
And I’ll be yours tonight…
On the road to Cheyenne town to visit Sarah Rose
I’m lonely and I’m crazed wanna hold you in my arms tonight…
It’s raining on the Dakota stretch the cars pass in a blur
I’m a lover and I’m a zombie I’m on orders from the doctor…
Wanna be your poster boy
Thumbtack me to your wall
And I’ll be yours tonight…
Wanna be your poster boy
Thumbtack me to your wall
And I’ll be yours tonight…
The girl is calling she wants me there I’d better not delay
The coyotes moon beside the road they know how much I care…
The girl is sweet the girl is warm the girl is smart and fast
She knows I’m coming for her she knows our love will last…
Wanna be your poster boy
Thumbtack me to your wall
And I’ll be yours tonight…
Wanna be your poster boy
Thumbtack me to your wall
And I’ll be yours tonight…
On the road to Cheyenne town to visit Sarah Rose
I’m lonely and I’m crazed wanna hold you in my arms …
CP Butchvarov
Tell Me A Story
Smoke waved past the empty glass
Tell me a story I said
She looked in the air to find it there
And painted my story instead…
Tell me a story I asked again
Tell me a tale of your home
She looked at her hands with eyes in a dance
And made my story a poem…
I wanted a story she looked straight ahead
Played the guitar instead…
I started to worry and asked for a story
She finally looked in my eyes
Without a word that I ever heard
She told of the fools and the wise…
Wanted a happier ending I said
She widened her eyes like a scream
Go home she said go on to bed
And maybe you’ll have a dream…
Tell me a story…
Bowers and Butchvarov
The Officeworker
I woke to the heat of an august sun
My head split open from the evening’s fun
The bedgear stank from the pools of sweat
My eardrums bloody from a passing jet…
I watched a roach run across the floor
And cursed the world outside my door
Lamenting how the years had passed
I swore this shave would be my last…
I heard the howling of a bitch in heat
And ran for the bus on my aching feet
I’m tired as hell of this stupid game
I’m just a number without a name…
So maybe it’s true my hair’s too long
And maybe my thoughts are just a bit strong
I do my job as well as the rest
My clerical skills rate with the best…
The girls at work think I’m really strange
They never ever see my outfit change
They tease me about my uniform
I must have worn it when I was born…
The man at the top was my childhood chum
He’s of the impression I’m a dirty bum
He says I’ll be due soon to get a raise
If and when I ever change my ways…
I heard the howling of a bitch in heat
And ran for the bus on my aching feet
I’m tired as hell of this stupid game
I’m just a number without a name…
So maybe it’s true my hair’s too long
And maybe my thoughts are just a bit strong
I do my job as well as the rest
My clerical skills rate with the best…
The noise of traffic masks the song of birds
I lunch on crackers and stale cheese curd
Somewhere in this city of glass and steel
The girls ran off for a low-cal meal…
I heard the howling of a bitch in heat
And ran for the bus on my aching feet
I’m tired as hell of this stupid game
I’m just a number without a name…
So maybe it’s true my hair’s too long
And maybe my thoughts are just a bit strong
I do my job as well as the rest
My clerical skills rate with the best…
CP Butchvarov