mojo man...

it’s all true you know

those things you hear

about him

about what it is

that he does

what it is

he really does

you know what i mean

those “things” that he does

with that stuff he has

the stuff you can’t get nowhere else

you know the stuff

that stuff his stuff

it’s all true you know

those things i hear

when he comes near

when he whispers in my ear

when he pulls out that little

indigo instrument of his

when he stirs up his magic mojo

stirs up all those crystalline dreams

stirs ‘em all up into crimson streams

ties ‘em together with corrugated strings

all them beautiful things

you know what i mean

you hear ‘em too

don’t you

yeah, i know you do

you hear ‘em too

you know what i mean

when he pulls out his little stash

THE stash

yeah, THAT stash

all that sweet sugary stuff

that ain’t none never enough

that makes us beg for more

that trips us to that other shore

the one where life ain’t so bad no more

or the one where life’s shut all the doors

it all depends on his stuff of the day

the stuff of come what may

the stuff of findin’ the way

the way into the heart of things

into the guts'a things

into the deep dark black'a things
the divil'a things
the burnin' hell'a things
into the truth'a things
the beauty'a things
the real'a things
the real deal things

yeah, those things
those “things” that he does
your know the things
those things
that most of us
never even hear of
never know of
never deal
never feel
never fill
never will
never experience
even in the blackest night
let alone on a sunlit day
when life’s gone astray
has slapped us in the face
stingin’ our flesh like a squirt of mace
has robbed us deserted us
left us alone in the desert sands
without ev’n no layin’ on of hands
without no map no drink
sendin’ us straight over the brink
no shelter from the storms of life
leavin’ us in the midst of all that strife
when life has lost its everlovin’ mind
beatin’ us down and all our kind
but then just like the sunrisin’ on a misty morn’

like a breath'a fresh air
with all kinds’a love to spare
here he comes
yeah, here he comes
carryin’ his little magic wand
his magic mojo wand of indigo ink
danglin’ it in front of us
wavin’ it 'round
makin’ those marks of his
marks can’t no one else even compare

marks no one else would even dare
marks that take us round and round
makin’ us think we’re heaven bound
and just like pavlov’s dogs
there we go pantin’ and pawin’
salivatin’ motivatin’
whimperin’ whinin’
lappin’ up his stuff
all his stuff
lappin’ it all up off those virtual paper plates
sniffin’ snortin’ inhalin’ exhalin’

all of it 

all his stuff

yeah, you know what I mean

that stuff

the stuff that ain’t never enough

the stuff of all them magnificent mystical tales

you know what i mean

his STUFF
that indigo ink stuff

yeah, that stuff
every single drop every last drop
till there ain’t nothin’ no more
till all those words'a his
just slam shut the door
SLAM it shut
right straight shut
yeah, shut!
shut!
shut till the next time
you know what I mean
the time
yeah, that time
THE time
the NEXT time
when he next comes ‘round
makin’ us think we’re all heaven bound
givin’ us a fix on what is what can be
what should be
a fix on love an’ light
an’ all things right
slap through the day into the night
takin’ you to all them pearly heights
when he does his thing

you know the thing
that thing he does
with his stuff
that stuff that more ain’t never enough
that thing that he does
when he pulls out his magic pen
and it all begins
again!

again
with him...
and his magic mojo pen

for all’a us
yeah, you know who i mean
you know the ones - US
us - his junkies...
his WORD junkies 

[to jimmy in glasgow]