I remember a girl from Tallahassee
And she was 21 and beautiful and sweet
And she took me to Jim Morrison's old house near Florida State University
Where we went into the dark, dank basement
There's an old chandelier covered in dust and rust
It was not then but later that we'd finally touch
Best to leave, I'm reaching for crystal's picture untouched
So yeah, we each pulled a crystal from the chandelier
And we both said we'd save them for the rest of our lives as a souvenir
To remember our moment, our mutual love for the Doors
I'll need a home for that crystal in a hundred years
It's somewhere in my half-century's worth of sentimentals
I must find it and take stock of my guitars and their serial numbers
And organize my boxes of my Christmas cards and photos
I've got trunks' worth that will eventually have to go
To the Mark Kozelek Musuem
It's to the Mark Kozelek Museum
I just need to find the right location
Cause home for me has been many places
It's been station to station
Street to street, bed to bed, town to town
My home is many places
My feet cover many miles and miles of the ground
Not sure what my museum will be
Maybe it will be a chain all around the nation
Your modern home is plainly aesthetic
To when you're on the tour bus in Almost Famous
And I dreamed I saw you one night in Boise, Idaho
You were a very different girl than the girl I used to know
There's was a darkness that had fallen upon you
A nervous twitch, and your breasts were so much bigger
Your back was covered with tattoos
You were not 21 anymore, you had lived a hard life
In your eyes, it showed
Your lipstick was thick, your remarks to me had a wicked sting
As if some Las Vegas pinker had taken you under his wing
I didn't ask what else you did for a living
But my heart was broken thinking of all the possibilities
What was the turning point?
What was it that could have happened to your warm, loving hug?
And I thought back to your young, 21-year-old fingers
And you said, "Oh my god, I just fucked my favorite lead singer"
And that innocent memory of you and I still lingers
In my dream, something had possessed you
Your soul was so hard
"It is your right to passage," I said to you in the dream
"It is your right to passage," I said to you
Finished the book The Boat to Los Angeles
Just as my flight landed in SFO from Los Angeles
Reminded me when I was living in Ohio in my teens
Working humiliating jobs that I knew were beneath me
When no one in the neighborhood much believed in me
"Sure you're gonna make it, Mark, sure you're gonna sing for a living"
"Sure you're gonna make it doing the California musician thing"
"Sure you're gonna make it playing guitar, Mark, sure thing"
Work up to the smell of smoke from the Sonoma fires
Gotta get up there and play a benefit and raise some money and inspire
Saw Ariel Pink last night, I said, "How you doing, my brother?"
His voice sounded shy, he said, "I'll be on another planet"
I could feel tension backstage, there was something going on in his eyes
He's my brother in music and I told him it's gonna be okay
Ariel Pink ain't your run-of-the-mill indie rock
If it was 1975, he would be a household name and we'd be neck-and-neck
He would be David Bowie famous and I'd be Neil Young famous, selling out arenas
But that ain't the case here in 2017
Backstage with our Crystal Geysers and Oranginas
He's a Spotify king and his biggest song is "Another Weekend"
And I'm on Spotify too, they tell me
My biggest song is "Chili Lemon Peanuts"
Next time I see him, will probably be some indie rock festival in Europe
At some cafeteria, port-a-potties outside that reek of diarrhea
And while most indie rockers are onstage
Doing the most to keep their fans snoring
No one could accuse me or Ariel Pink of ever being boring
Diarrhea, diarrhea, diarrhea, diarrhea
Diarrhea, diarrhea, diarrhea, diarrhea
I thought back to our night that always lingered
I forgot to mention she was married
And God's voice came to me in the night
And said, "You will both be punished, sinners"
I said, "I don't believe in you, God, I never did, not even maybe"
I was a singer in a band, she was an impressionable young lady
And God said, "I am real and you will be punished for this sin"
And I replied, "Even if I am, it was worth it to feel the touch of her precious fingers"
I told her God came to me in the night and said we'd burn in hell
Before she broke her vows
She said, "I don't believe in God or my marriage much anyhow"
That's me on guitar, Steve Howe-style
I'm in the seventh grade, listening to The Yes Album
I love you, Steve Howe, you inspired me
Like how hopefully I'll inspire others
I got a Gibson ES-175 Sunburst just like yours, down to the very year
Actually that's not true, it's a '66, I wish it was a '64
One day, I hope it will be hanging in the Mark Kozelek Museum
And maybe that crystal that I took from Jim Morrisson's chandelier
Maybe postcards sent to my father from around the globe
I just gotta find a spot near my home
Or my other homes far away from home
Maybe Sweden, cause I believe I lived there in another life
Maybe further up northern California
Because my happiest memories were fishing up the coast
Maybe my birthplace, Massillon, Ohio, because that's where it all began
I don't know, but my guess is right here in San Francisco
If my legacy can afford it
10:35 AM, 10/27/2017, Telegraph Field
Meeting Jack and Nathan at Trieste at 11:30
Gonna sing me a book to a piece of music today
To quote Tony Montana, I've been quoting him a lot lately
I don't know why, but the line in the movie where he says
"Then what? You're 50, you got a bag for a belly"
Never resonated until I turned 50
Anyhow, I dreamed last night that I was in the war in the Philippines
It may have been inspired by the photo I saw
A flash of Elorde at the boxing gym yesterday
That, and the movie Hacksaw Ridge
I watched with Caroline last night right beside her in her bed
I didn't pay attention to the movie much and said
"All war movies look the same"
But really, I've been thinking bout all my things this year
And wondering what will become of them when I'm no longer living
I need to take steps for this inevitable thing
Like Jack Dempsey from Colorado, I'd like to be like him
I'd like to leave a few things behind for the Mark Kozelek Museum