Why Do All the Country Girls Leave?

by Myshkin

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Myshkin trying on a plethera of musical styles like pretty hats, with the help of some of New Orleans best players, and they all look good. Packaged in a jewel case with a 12 page booklet including all lyrics, and original collage artwork by Myshkin.

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    Get all 10 Myshkin Warbler releases available on Bandcamp and save 10%.

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1.
janie never ever said boo to us 
she only ever talked to dogs and books 
she wore her pants too short some days too long 
no matter what she wore janie just looked wrong 
wrong janie wrong janie is a doctor now in hong kong 
she has tea once a week with the grand duchee 
and janie never ever even thinks about me 
why did she leave? annie was so shy it was ridiculous 
she had these chicken white thighs and a messed up face
she’d fall in love with any boy that smiled in her direction
you could get her drunk and feel her up with no need for discretion
ugly annie ugly annie is a model now in sydney
she has tea once a week with the grand duchee
and annie never ever even thinks about me
why did she leave? see how the mist it clings to the hills the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen see how the wet leaves cling to the gum trees that’s how a woman should cling to me louise was the show princess for three years running
wet dream of every teen from here to gundy
we all whistled when she walked by till she married charlie hunter
then she disappeared one wet july and he never did hear from her
sexy louise sexy she’s living in the bush now with a commune full of greenies
she has tea once a week with the grand duchee
and louise never ever even thinks about me
why did she leave?
why do all the country girls leave? see how the mist it clings to the hills the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen. summer 98 Australia
© myshkin 1999
2.
Penn Station 03:14
pulling out penn station sitting backwards on the train
watching the shining dream manhattan grow tiny and decay
into a dawn of steely industry and ruined real estate 
a city fallen like a woman heart hollow edges stained
as if she never saw the drop as if she never thought to look
as if she never heard it calling with every step she took how many times penn station seen this same story of flight 
it could be nineteen twenty seven forty four seventy five
she having left her lover sleeping off his drunk and their last fight
she having walked here broke from chelsea in the middle of the night
this time some angel in the station gave her twenty bucks for free
i guess the air of desperation is stinking strong on me i’m in a steep nose dive and it’s almost too late
got an engine on fire i gotta drop this weight
go on boy you just keep on flying
stay high mistaking altitude for strength
you won’t be the one clenching and crying
when they take what’s left of love away pulling out penn station like it’s the last card up my sleeve
the one that says make haste and you may live if you can leave
send a wish for muscle to all the girls who come this way
hey the hardest hustle is the run away
and he will still be sleeping and he will sleep for years 
and in a week he’ll have a new girl to act out all his fears and soon she’ll be in a steep nose dive and soon it’ll be almost too late
and soon she’ll have an engine on fire she’ll have to drop this weight
and him well he’ll just keep on flying
stay high mistaking altitude for strength
he won’t be the one clenching and crying
when they take what’s left of love away
‘cause poor boy never knew it anyway winter 95 New Orleans
©myshkin 1999
3.
Bojador 03:20
this is where your maps show only dragons walk the continent
this is where your devil rides the waves
this is where your maps say the names of places stop
year of your lord 1434 south of bojador prince henry is a man with too much time on his hands
prince henry is a man who wants to live forever
prince henry told his men sail cross that time honored line
prince henry’s men knew better turn back at bojador this is where the sun rains fire on the earth
this is where your blood will boil
this is what we’ve tried to send as message north
you are not ready to explore south of bojador prince henry is a man who won’t be thwarted in his fancy
prince henry sent his men back out
prince henry’s men returned with a rose of mary
proof of a gentle land south of bojador this is where the fruit grows thick upon the trees
this is where we lived with our families
but when you picked the rose of mary africa began to bleed
this is how the blues will be born conceived south of bojador spring 99 New Orleans
© myshkin 1999
4.
your green house smelled of bumblebees vanilla and sweet yesterday’s beer
on the sunny window sill of a california dream
and it was always warm in winter the beaches were always empty 
there were more stars in the sky than i had ever seen
and you cut driftwood into beauty sleek and oiled and lithe in line
you never seemed like driftwood to me you always seemed to know your mind but beauty cuts us dreadful slow she cuts as slow as live oaks grow
we bleed into her silver bowl i don’t know what it is we owe her
maybe we so readily intoxicated should not be
where the very air is heady mountains sing and oceans breathe your advice was usually good i carry it like sticks of wood
to burn to light the path to see the seven years between you and me
never strike a match towards you never swerve to avoid
that dog in the road will soon be gone but i’ll be here your whole life long
and if that was a promise won’t you try and keep it
i am hereby on my knees begging you to see that fear she cuts us dreadful slow she cuts as slow as live oaks grow
we bleed into her silver bowl i don’t know what it is we owe her
maybe we so stubbornly shrugging off our talents 
seed scorched earth as our legacy that’s no response to our ability and your round face it looks like mine and sometimes my voice sounds like yours
like yesterday i sang a line like what could have come right out your verse
but it has been so dreadful long since i have heard your own true song
unguarded by your tin can army not garbled by your tin can throng
so cut your dead wood into beauty i’ll burn these sticks up in rhyme
don’t mean to speak of debt and duty some habits just outlive their time and habit cuts us dreadful slow she cuts as slow as live oaks grow
we bleed into her silver bowl i don’t know what it is we owe her
maybe we can tear this tree up by its roots and fuck the pain 
we’ve bled enough to feed an ocean i want to hear your voice again spring 99 Port Fairy Australia
© myshkin 1999
5.
the last year she was beautiful she set sail across the plain
with a compass and a six pack and nobody at the reins
pure horsepower
and all the wide and gleaming land caught in the boundaries of her wanderlust
every road map ripped up by her hand adding up to prove that she was finally lost
but it was only just beginning and the last year she was beautiful she turned the mirrors to the walls
sat down with a scissor and a glue pot she set out to recombine it all
nothing pure about it
and all the features and the facts they look so stupid when you flip them on their backs
like horses with their hooves up in the air
like she had come to the absolute end of caring
but it was only just beginning and the last year she was beautiful everybody said remember when
the world was kind and green and blind and free back a generation or two or three
pure as the driven horse driven to it’s knees
and all the righteous and the wicked caught up in each other’s definitions
all nostalgia and all prophesy adding up to prove that this is finally the last year
but this is only just beginning spring 98 Memphis
© myshkin 1999
6.
Apricot Tree 03:31
i didn't like the way you moved, all jerks and bumps
and the way your sneakers stuck out from your rolled up cuffs
cause i was sitting in the lonely sweatshirt of the boy you left behind
but we started talking and we locked, we gave each other all each other's keys
we talked about that boy, you and him, him and me
all the way to your house under the apricot tree and every day after work that is where we'd be
in that little tiny house under the apricot tree
you and your new junky boyfriend and me falling apart under the apricot tree  and i did like the rush and the silvery speed
but i could never handle all that belly full of need
cause my life then was like some very pregnant seed
that could not find any soil to scratch a hollow in and breed and every day after work that is how it'd be
in that little tiny house under the apricot tree
you and your new junky boyfriend and me falling apart under the apricot tree and i would drive home at the end of every shaky night
all strung out cross the desert like some sad holiday lights
and listen through the wall to the sighs of the boy you left behind
and i know a fruit that's too ripe will never last too long
and maybe two weeks after all the apricots had come and gone
came that bleeding screaming night when it all went so terribly wrong 'cause every day after work that is where we'd be
and that night the boy you left behind just had to come and see
you and your new junky boyfriend and me, and we all fell apart under the apricot tree now i know that for you the nightmare it went on and on
but for me everything after that night was denouement
cause after i had saved his life i oh so slowly fell all out of
unrequited love with the boy you left behind
and by the way i like the way you move, all jerks and bumps
and the way your sneakers stick out from your rolled up cuffs
and we never even needed all that dope to be tough girl, we were tough already and one day when our work is done i'll tell you where we'll be
some little tiny house under an apricot tree
you and your true love and my love and me just eating apricots under the apricot tree winter 98 Austin TX
© myshkin 1999
7.
i would be sad if not for you 
you would be blue if not for me 
good thing we travel well together 
birds of a feather in the shivery breeze i would be sitting in some station waiting
you would be riding on some aeroplane
we would have no one to turn to
when the fine weather turned to rain now if i ever am unkind
please know i’ll never be untrue
‘cause even when you’re nowhere near my side
no one comes as close as you and if the journey should take us separate roads 
for a week couple months half a year 
well then in turn we can only suppose 
that the time we spend together 
will be ever so much more dear, dear i’ve put away my pipes and bottles
i’ve put away my childish things
the only chemistry that interests me
is the smoke and fire when you and i sing i could be walking down some city street
you could be driving up some motorway
we would have no one to break into smiles with
when the sunshine break through the gray and then i would be sad were it not for you
and you would be blue if not for be
good thing we travel well together 
birds of a feather in the shivery breeze winter 98 New Orleans
© myshkin 1999
8.
Ruby Ann 02:43
ruby ann she’s about 16 feet tall
ruby ann don’t take shit from anyone at all
ruby ann where you gonna go
when the saloon open ruby start to roll slippery susan she ‘s back in town
slippery susan she’s got a brand new raccoon fur gown
slippery sue i saw her down at that saloon
scratchin’ at a lottery ticket with a blackened spoon jimmy john lee’s gone west again
jimmy john lee don’t give a shit about the rest of them
jimmy lee he’s always got girls never got friends
but those girls have wheels and those wheels have wings ruby ann she’s out looking for her man
jimmy john lee he done long ago left town
slippery sue you should have put that ticket down and looked around
you got red red flowers blooming on your raccoon gown slippery sue she was buried in a pauper’s grave
and ruby ann died of old age in a prison cage
jimmy john lee that bastard got away
but wait till sue and ruby see him again down in the devils den
wait till sue and ruby see him again now they’re the best of friends
wait till sue and ruby see him again spring 98 New Orleans
© myshkin 1999
9.
Yvonne's Bar 03:51
kids pass on pogo sticks the ripped screen door
of yvonne’s old bar there on the corner
two block off the avenue and there’s no oaks at all
and the houses are small and the houses are cut in two 
and kids aint played with pogo sticks since before me or you existed and there’s weeds in the bayou will pull a boy under 
if he tries to go swimming or diving for treasure
and there’s boys in the street who will give you hard looks
they are trying to compete with the cops with the crooks
and yvonne is gone she passed on last december 
and that bar has been empty for a fifth of a century she got herself a job selling chicken think that’s gonna keep her alive?
she got three kids they want things they keep the t.v. turned high
she got her bit of hope for the future in a pretty room in her mind
one where she can open the shutter catch a little wind off the bayou
you can’t eat fried chicken every damn night
watch your baby girl turn into woman right before your eyes people round here don’t know how to let go
of the things we held on to to keep us afloat
we got cars in our back yards we got roads in our ruts
and we love to run in them we’re in love with the rust
and there used to be a show here aplace for kids to go
before they put the highway where the oaks were cut the cities throat dear and now kids pass on pogo sticks the ripped screen door
of yvonne’s old bar there on the corner
two block off the avenue and there’s no oaks at all
and the houses are small and the houses are cut in two winter 98 New Orleans
© myshkin 1999
10.
Colored Corn 02:24
lips curled round that rural past
arms curved round that gunny sack
she ain’t never going back
she’s full of colored corn wade out into that parking lot
cold steel sun riding over the truck stop
she’s blue as a baker she’s bright as a pepper
she’s full of colored corn ships in loving anchor rest
trucks all turned to face the west
love is spurned love is tested
love is never scorned, colored corn dollar spent and a coin tossed 
treasure that is buried can be lost
fish spin across that parking lot
never to be born but treasure that is buried can be reached
flights fallen from air and vessels beached 
she is blue as a baker she’s bright as a pepper
she’s full of colored corn, colored corn summer 98 Sydney Australia
© myshkin 1999
11.
oh dear diedre were your forests deeper
were your skies not wider before you crossed the water? when the ship puts into ellis after the heaving in the steerage
and they put you through the wash and the rine and the wringer
and the little man from immigration sneering 
at your papers gives you a new name cause he can’t pronounce your mother’s
and it’s a ferry to the city it’s like a beehive full of honey and it is tall and full of buzzing and you are small and clean and rusty
from the atlantic or the seven seas or the 747
and you’re foreign and you’re frozen and your forever just caught up with you
you fall behind just standing still while the bees they buzz about you oh maria were your thoughts not clearer
were your breezes kinder before you left the island and all roads lead to alphabet city that’s the kind of place for a drone like you 
where the streets they look like alleys and the one room rooms they have no view
and the radiators hiss like a dragon and the streets breathe steam like there’s life below and the radiators moan and ring like a jail like the city is a jail not a honeycomb so you find a piece of work in the bowery in a failing all night chop house 
chop the onions whistle tangos wait on tables and the impulse to get moving
throw your apron down roam the streets to the private sound 
of your mama’s old accordion blocking out the honey making buzz of this town to cut a dash in the city must you be flash or pretty
or harder than a harley driving sailor riding her hog out to sea? so you hear about the tracks and the trails and the trains and the black dirt for the taking and you’re a farm girl from the balkan ukraine netherland mountain range
anyway you buy a ticket stick your thumb out trade your cooking for a wagon seat
cause everyone knows that the rivers run gold and the hills are full of silver like a treacly sweet but everywhere you go it’s the same show sure the sun it drips like honey
and the rain weeps on the young grain like a generous flow of money
but the black dirt for the taking’s all been stolen sold and lost
as if the very wealth of milk and honey turned honey bees into paper wasps
so you scratch out a living on an acre or ten
if you can keep it from the banks and the whistling wind
and you’ll never see the fiords or the steppes or the fens
or the alps or the yellow river again
and you’ll love the country cause you gotta love
but you’ll die a foreigner in a foreign land
with a snatch of your mother’s song in your lung
and a fistful of dirt brown dirt in your hand oh my molly what is this folly what do all the country girls see far beyond the sea? spring 1999 sydney australia
© myshkin 1999
12.
Headstrong 02:21
you’re just like your father, you’re headstrong
get away but you can’t get along
wanna lay low you wanna slip through the cracks
but your eighteen and pregnant honey there’s nothing subtle about that you’re just like your old man you’re beautiful
got a heart like an ocean watch your eyes overflow and are you just like you’re father are you will weak?
that’s something your dad always had in common with me
used to be they could offer us anything we’d say yes please
even if anything did knock us down to our knees now i never knew your mother and i don’t expect we’ll ever meet
but are you just like your father and me do you already have sore knees at eighteen? and if you’re just like your father well then you’ll survive
you’ll know how to find the well in the desert honey
you’re always gonna make it home alive ‘cause you’re just like your old man you’re beautiful
got a heart like an ocean watch your eyes overflow fall 97 New Orleans
© myshkin 1999
13.
Sugarman 01:54
one day i’m gonna get tired of sugar, cane beet and corn sweet and bee honey too
one day i’m gonna get tired of sugar, sugar man i won’t never get tired of you one day i’m gonna get tired of travelling, gas station gourmet and highway haiku
one day i’m gonna get tired of travelling, travelling man i won’t never get tired of you never get tired never get tired sugar man i won’t never get tired of you one day i’m gonna get sick of this city, traffic and trash people acting so cruel
one day i’m gonna get sick of this city, city man i won’t never get sick of you and when i get bored with the city i will find a valley home 
and when i get too old to ramble round i will stay there all year long
and when i get sick of sugar i’ll eat crackers beans and tea
oh but sugar man sugar man, don’t you get sick of me never get tired never get tired sugar man i won’t never get tired of you winter 98 new orleans
© myshkin 1999
14.
Market Town 04:44
james went down to the market town perched on his father’s knee
for to sell their cotton and buy their livestock and trade their tobacco for coffee and tea
it was market day in the market town by the red clay riverside
and the street was full of strange sights and sounds and james his eyes were wide there were farmers and merchants and dogs in the dust
there were pigs and cattle and horses in harness
there were sacks of white sugar and tins of molasses
cotton in bales and trees cut into planks was a man named green in the market town
bound for new orleans the last stop down
and james and his father went to see the man’s wares
in a little yard hidden from curious stares now green the soul driver a whip in his hand
set his stock to dancing said look aren’t they happy 
but even young james could see the difference in style 
between a grimace of pain and a smile was an old man of sixty boot black in his hair
for to make him look forty still plenty of work in there
was a woman with two daughters and a girl with one son
and jim’s father’s eye fixed on that little one now all down the street of the market town
you could hear the girls scream as her son was sold
over the barking and bleating over the haggling and cheating
her wailing should turn the blood cold but green plied his whip till his both arms were tired
and james watched the life leave her eyes
and james and his father took their property away 
and the scars have not healed to this day so take care what you do for your market town
for your oil in barrels and your money in banks
you can kick dust over the blood on the ground
but you’re still whipping people to dance
and even a child will see that
and then you will see what you get fall 98 New Orleans
© myshkin 1999
15.
Sleep 05:42
and when i watched you sleep
i heard the ancients weep
tear their hair and gnash their teeth
for never having known you sweet and when the soldiers came
and the bombs fell like rain
i cried not for pain nor hunger
i could only cry your name now men in offices
will have their reasons
but what purpose could it serve this
taking you away from me and when you rocked away
i heard the harbor waves
slap the sides of silver sailors 
say that you were gone now safe now men in offices
will make their treatied peace
but i wonder could they have unleashed their guns dear
if they’d ever watched you 
how could they if they’d watched you
they could not if they had ever watched you sleep spring 99 New Orleans
© myshkin 1999

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released January 1, 2000

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Myshkin Warbler Astoria, Oregon

Myshkin and an ever-evolving crew of restless gamblers—string, horn, drum, key, and and wave players. Passions range from tango to electronica, folk-noir to gypsy-swing to modern classical to rocknroll. Literate & spooky. Myshkin mostly plays guitars. When warm, she sings like a shiver down your chakras. Like a heart breaking all wide open. Like one in utter control of uncontrollable things. ... more

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