If you were cool in high school
you didn’t ask too many questions.
You could tell who’d been to last night’s
big metal concert by the new t-shirts in the hallways.
You didn’t have to ask
and that’s what cool was:
the ability to deduce,
to know without asking.
And the pressure to simulate coolness
means not asking when you don’t know,
which is why kids grow ever more stupid.
-David Berman
Thanks and praises
Thanks to jesus
I bet on the bottle of smoke
I went to hell
And to the races
To bet on the bottle of smoke
The day being clear
The sky being bright
He came up on the left
Like a streak of light
Like a drunken fuck
On a saturday night
Up came the bottle of smoke
Twenty fucking five to one
Me gambling days are done
I bet on a horse called the bottle of smoke
And my horse won
Stewards inquiries
Swift and fiery
I had the bottle of smoke
Inquisitions and suppositions
I had the bottle of smoke
Fuck the stewards
A trip to lourdes
Might give the old fuckers
The power of sight
Screaming springers and stoppers
And call out coppers
But the money still gleams in my hand like a light
Bookies cursing
Cars reversing
I had the bottle of smoke
Glasses steaming
Vessels bursting
I had the bottle of smoke
Slip a fifty to the wife
And for each brat a crisp new five
To give me a break on a saturday night
When I had the bottle of smoke
Priests and maidens
Drunk as pagans
They had the bottle of smoke
Sins forgiven and celebrations
They had the bottle of smoke
Fuck the yanks
And drink their wives
The moon is clear
The sky is bright
Im happy as the horses shite
Up came the bottle of smoke
