I Woke Up Blind

I Woke Up Blind

2013, 06:00

Recorder with Various Whistles, Bells and Small Toys and Soundtrack

Written for Susanna Borsch



I woke up blind this morning, blind as a sack of potatoes.
I woke up blind this morning, blind as a three corner’d hat.
Blind as a church key.
Blind as a dog’s balls.
Don’t ask me.
Don’t ask me about it again.

I woke up blind this morning, blind as a bear in a blind bear cave.
Like a whole cave of blind bears, playing hide n’ go seek.
Seekin’ ye with findin’ no me.
Who forgot to pay the electric bill?
Who shut off the lights ‘round here?
Don’t ask me.
Don’t ask me about it again.

Don’t ask me how.
I don’t know how it happened.
How’s a word for people too lazy to look it up for themselves.

I woke up blind!
Blind in my own bed!
What bed? Whoa! My bed hath been taken from me.
The light of the world has left me in darkness.
Where’d everybody go?
I’m filing a missing everybody report.
I don’t know how it happened!
Don’t ask me to tell no story.

I woke up blind, too blind to get up.
Movin’ or lyin’ under the sheets – it comes out to the exact same thing.
Like a man runnin’ out of a burning barn and takin’ his boots off at the same time.
Like runnin’ out of a collapsin’ house when you was just about to hang yourself there.
You goin’ in two opposite directions at once.
Ain’t no highway sign that’ll point the way.
That’s a quandry in a doubtful situation.
That’s a state of no state I know.

Don’t ask me why.
Why’s the first word in “Why you asking me?
How should I know?
Don’t ask me about it again!

I woke up blind, too blind to fall outta bed.
Stuck like a moon in a picture frame.
Hanging up by some rusty nail, going nowhere fast.
I’m here stuck like a frozen turkey waiting to get shot.
Too cold to move.
Too cold to kick away the stool.
Too cold to leave a note.

Maybe you’re thinking you wouldn’t mind being blind for a day.
Strollin’ thru the city with a fancy cane and dark glasses.
Having everybody look out for you.
Listen to a bird or something you never took note of before.
A new world for a day.
A new morning.

Maybe you better just get your mind changed.
Change it right now.
‘cause your mind and your eyes ain’t seeing mind-to-eye.
Flying in the face of common facts.
Blind to the common sense of it.
One time somebody called me “lucky.”
“Lucky to be alive.”
People that can see put up their ignorance in the front yard like a Christmas tree.
Luck’s no friend of mine!
Blind luck can’t follow no country road to happiness.
Blind luck can’t climb no tree of money.
No rich man’s evenin’ breeze ever cooled my brow.

Stop asking me when!
One day we’re born, the next day we’re dead or dying.
Isn’t that enough philosophy for one day?

Listen to me!
It’s the sound of the words that tell you what they’re intendin’.
You can’t write that down.
That ain’t in no reading book.
Even a poor sucker with two eyes can hear that.
Listen to the words.
Cain and Abel.
Chicken bone.
Sea salt.

Don’t make me listen to no old wive’s tales.
Old, baggy tales with no rope to bind ‘em.
Don’t start no story without no rope to hold it together.
You ain’t got no rope, there ain’t no hope
for your sorry-ass, mother-hubbard-and-her-bare-bone-cupboard tale.

What else you need to tell a story?
What you botherin’ a blind man for?
Like it was rocket science or building some damn pyramid in the desert.
You don’t need much.
You writing this down?
You need a heavy bag.
You need a big coat.
You need maybe a pocket watch or something.
And a kick in the shin.
Oh, you heard me now.
Yeah, a hard kick in the shin.
‘cause the tears of the world are a constant quantity.
Whenever one sorry-ass dog stops wailing, another starts up.
Just like your questions.
Don’t ask me no more questions.

I ain’t got no story to sell you.
I ain’t no non-profit prophet, neither.
I wore not always these tattered clothes.
I had not always these bleary eyeballs,
only good for seeing some other man’s pity.
What’s your tongue hanging on the floor for?
Never seen two sightless eyes?
Well, they never seen you neither.
Stop asking me questions, I woke up with problems of my own.
Why just this morning: a dog come in the kitchen
Steals a piece of bread.
You can write that on my tombstone:
“A dog stole my breakfast.”

Don’t ask me how.
How’s the first word in “How’d you think up such a stupid question?”
How’s the first word in “Howard Hughes.”
How’s the first word in “How ‘bout closin’ the door behind you?”