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• Artiste: Eric Andersen
• Titre: Ghosts Upon The Road
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Sometime the typical song format gets limiting and boring. There's the urge to push out and redefine the boundaries. So in this piece I tried for something different. I wanted length and breathing room. Something closer to a narrative without melody, like a short story, set to rhythm and music, that would incorporate abstract sounds. It takes place in Boston and New York. Places I had lived when I started out as a song writer. ---------------------------------------------- I was stranded up in Cambridge Mass it was the winter of 64 Before that in a torn down building up on Beacon Hill I made my money mowing lawns that fall and junkin in a band The air was full of energy only a few could understand Now I was lucky in my building because the city had forgot To board up all the doors and windows and shut the electric off An abandoned dog had earlier destroyed the first and second floors I found some country records there but I had no stereo But sometimes I'd heard noises in the night On the 3rd floor there I was living by candlelight crashed out in the corner of a room Afraid to draw attention I was eating cold out of cans Later they said I was livin like a rat Now the crowd that I hung out with well they were outcasts too Suzie alone and pregnant with my best friend's kid Johnny Boy just got thrown out of the local looney bin And Brian was rentin out apartments that didn't exist Then one night alone I wrote a song about something that I knew About the black faced miners it was tune from a man named Blue Ghosts upon the road They were ghosts upon the road Just ghosts upon the road Soon I moved across the river and got a roommate right off of Cambridge Ave Alfredo was from no man's land he danced his car over the moon His eyes were full of Latin smoke and his wall was full of knife holes He had a job as a maitre'd and I didn't have enough to keep in cigarettes His pockets were always lined and his bed was always full my soul felt like an empty lot And people were hidin their stash and stuff underneath their floorboards Back then everybody was paranoid of the cops Then there was Diana she took me under her hat She's happily married with three kids now So I won't go into that Ghosts upon the road They were ghosts upon the road Just ghosts upon the road Now the jungle war and politics was on everybody's mind They rejected me on mental grounds so it was not my lot to serve That August day down on Whitehall street I ran into some post beat hippies I'd known I must have looked so weird to them they only waved to me I'd been lucky to have been advised from some higher sources That I'd known and managed to keep the circles under my eyes I knew that fear could make a man crazy even more than make him scared You didn't need a blood hound to know the smell of blood was in the air Soon I was asked to leave the place the rest were made to stay Both my head and I were dressed like Holden Caulfield on that day But ridin the rails of subways was far safer from the time I tried Like takin matters into my own hands down on the Lower East Side That summer's night down on Avenue B He almost jumped off a 6 story roof Next time I got a piano but I fell in love too soon But sometimes I'd hear noises in the night Ghosts upon the road They were ghosts upon the road Just ghosts upon the road It was then I knew that death was death that life was life maybe there was an in between Not just some French and Russian novels or the love of a poet's life Or the need to give everything a name Three had tried to kill me and three had saved my life Life and death were indistinguishable til death put an end to that I dreamed my life would roll on forever like some great plain in the west My lovers I'd count like billboards on ribbon route infinity Cryin out Dean Moriarty Sweet Marilyn here I come In our fast cars our rockin boots meet the sons of the dharma bums Til one went into the bathroom he took his belt off And never came out and Melissa put one up inside the soft roof of her mouth Ghosts upon the road They were ghosts upon the road Just ghosts upon the road Now and then I think about Rachael who I once followed up some steps And I think it was Georges Clemenceau who once said That the highlight of making love first time Was to watch a woman from behind climbin up the stairway to her room But that was 1914 and this was 14th Street In the Spanish neighborhood by the river But it was long ago She said she took a lot of acid then but she ended up okay Besides many I knew ended up much worse And Ramblin Jack was wild but Lowell Jack was first and I still shiver from the words But it's these times I wonder when I'm alone and I don't see you Did I lose my way or did you lose yours Ghosts upon the road They were ghosts upon the road Just ghosts upon the road