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Sparkhead Blues [from the "​¡​.​.​. Take a Bride​!​" sessions]

from ¡Lonesome Electric Honky Gabacho​!​: 7​/​1 of The Jugband Cannibala by Honky Gabacho

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lyrics

Taste of ozone in the air,
His definitions are a throbbing fuzz
'n' There's a snap and a hum
Between his cheek and his tongue, as
Slender fingers start to shiver 'n' buzz.
His lungs ignite like a neon wreath
While staving off an attack of those
Electric teeth, as
Brilliant as it may be brief,
His life flashes by in magnetic relief.

Sparkhead Blues, aw, tell me
What can you do
When your mouth light' up the dark in a
Crackling hue;
Sparkhead eyes burn like vacuum tubes, he got those
Neon-splattered,
Static-smattered,
Shattered sparkhead blues.

Neon veins 'n' capillaries, he got
Nerves of copper wire;
Tiny bulbs all through his
Motherboard skull, he got a
Light-Emitting Desire.
Hands take human form 'n' cool as his
Eyes meet a tableaux of
Snickers 'n' sneers,
Ya know a beer stein of cheers
Versus an ocean of jeers has left
Many a better man thirsty for years,
But in the name of the Father,
Son of the Child, and of that
Holy Ghost inside the radio dial,
He'll give the heckles and taunts
The kinda answers they wants
As his crackling lips work to fight back a smile...

It happened so fast, nobody could've known,
As his atomic sigh stretched through the night,
Just one bright green flash, now the smoke from their bones
Is dancing up in slow coils by his incandescent light.

Sparkhead Blues,
Deaf, dumb and obtuse as
Hands from the either start to
Tighten the noose, 'n'
Nowhere that you've been seems to have much use for those
Neon spattered,
Static-smattered,
Scattered Sparkhead Blues.

"¡Ooh, Sparkhead BLUES!" she cajoles 'n' taunts.
She dares to split hairs with the
Kid Savant,
She'd better get herself grounded, 'cuz he's
Gonna get mean, 'n'
Light her up like a twenty-five cent
Pinball machine.

¡Oh, Sparkhead Blues, I have the touch!
Though it's ever-fleeting
And never much,
It's the only way Mere Mortals 'n' such can achieve
Bent-circuit blowing of the fuse.
¡Oh, Sparkhead Blues, when you give 'em the juice, you're a
Fluorescent Werewolf on the loose!
And all the factions of dischord shall
Come to a truce by that
Neon-splattered,
Static-smattered,
Howl-'n'-patter of
Feedback chatter; they'll
Dance in chaos
For ever-after by those
Shattered Sparkhead Blues.

Music and lyrics by Andy Klosenski, ©2008, recorded 2011.

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Honky Gabacho Dover, New Hampshire

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