Talkin' Blues

Lyrics: Robert Hunter
Music: Robert Hunter

Robert Hunter is known to have sung this twice. The first time was on 2 May 2002 in Philadelphia, when he introduced it by saying "I wrote this a long time ago and at soundcheck today I just happened to see it in the book here and I thought to myself, yeah I'll spring this on 'em tonight."

The second time was on 8 May. He started playing something else but after a few seconds stopped and said "Oh no, this wants to be in double-D tuning. I can't do that. Here's one. I did do this in Philadelphia but I stumbled over it a whole lot."

Any help deciphering the lyrics gratefully received

If you want to get to heaven let me tell you how to do it
Got greasy feet and a little mutton suet
Slide on out the devil's hand, ooze on over to the promised land
Take it easy

Talkin' blues in the air, underfoot they're everywhere
Running down the street like dogs, neck for neck and cheek by jowl
They're losers, leavers, private dancers, true believers
Swimmers, sinkers, glitter stars and heavy thinkers
Lightning, thunder, deeds of mercy, acts of wonder
Over, under, duck your head here comes another
Rubber chickens orchestrated, communists, collaborators
Marble stairs and elevators, morning stars and sunset traitors
On your marks, curtains rising, get a move on

Nothing much makes sense today, maybe I'll just strum and play
Just try to catch the drift of things, behind these hills where freedom rings
Like a hound dog, like a [?]

I let my deal go down again, that could be bad, it all depends
On facts that no one can predict, but I can't quit until I'm licked
[It's all fun], like an ice cream [by your side]

Even money says the game, it's fixed I know but all the same
It's what you do not what you don't, it's what you will not what you won't
That gets you out of bed and down the stairs

I look around with desperation, seeking for some inspiration
If not that, at least a sign that somewhere there's a grand design
Or maybe just a hit on notebooks paper

As I head down my strip of fate, I trust and pray I'm not too late
To make the difference I could make to ease the pain and heal the ache
And still the amazing motion picture

I stumble on my shadow, fall, throw myself against the wall
Slap my face and kick my ass like they say this too shall pass
Why beat up on myself when I got friends

Well they put me in my hall of fame and then they kicked me out again
And put me in the hall consigned to all those who force a rhyme
Like fame, a game, consigned and rhymed

But I don't mind, it just gets worse, cram all I can into a verse
Say whatever I want to say, and let the English language pay
That dialect of American, no one speaks so good anyway

Decided to write a song so long it wouldn't miss me when I'm gone
Since it's getting pretty clear, it's hard to miss me while I'm here
It's a logical paradox

I leave behind my unpaid bills, and strike out for those distant hills
If I should fail to come around to say I'm Alabama bound
If anyone really needs/wants to know

A thousand monks, a thousand churches, a thousand parrots on their perches
All agree on one damn thing, it takes a crown to make a king
Be careful what you're putting on your head

I would not bite the hand that feeds, and sometimes there are other needs
Like confidence, good will and trust, before these ashes turns to dust
Don't bother me with glass, I'll take the bottle

One thing I think I've learned by now, there's nothing else, don't ask me how
Just take my word go ask your mother, if it ain't one thing then it's another
If it isn't that, it's pretty nearly always time for something else

Rebellion for rebellion's sake tends to keep the kids awake
Leaves the writing on the wall, leaves the garbage in the hall
All written in the letters of your name

Out in San Francisco town, they bake the biscuits upside down
Then they butter them with candle wax, don't confuse me with the facts
I'm just trying to sing an honest song

Over on Manhattan shore they bake their biscuits on the floor
They eat them with a knife and fork, throw out the wine and drink the cork
And that's what I love about New York

Well Boston is another case, they bake their biscuits on your face
They serve them with a gob of phlegm, left even in doubt no sin condemn
Get back in line and keep on grinning

Monday's child is short and fat, Tuesday's crazy as a bat
Wednesday's child is lost in space, and Thursday's is a basket case
Friday's child likes harmless fun, like drinking to oblivion
And as for Saturday's disgrace, their mother could not love it's face
Thank God for Sunday's child

Now Sunday's child was smart and cute, sexy, rich and sweet to boot
In fact there's nothing she ain't got, or if there is, then I forgot
Just be sure to watch your wallet

It's all about tension and release, and steering clear of the police
I know that's been said before, but it bears saying one time more
Don't go in the shower with your shoes on

Sign said everything must go, we quit, no offer is too low
I pulled out a roll of twelves, bought everything that was on the shelves
Now I'm going out of business too

Now i packed up my new used guitar, I checked my bag and travelled far
Play my songs for everyone who's set aside the time to come
To hear what I might have to say about this sorry world today
I got [?]

There's none so blind as will not see, so enslaved as won't be free
I see the faces, shake the hands, rock the place, check the bands
Return to my hotel alone, and take the cradle off the phone
Never call for assistance before noon

I got locked out of my own show, they stopped me at the door, you know
I didn't look like they thought I should, my hair was thin, my shoes too good
They said you gotta prove it fella, sing us something a cappella
They had to let me in, who else sings that bad

The crowd poured in by ones and twos, I tuned up, sang them Born To Lose
Your cheating Heart, Yellow Moon, Jump Jack Flash, [Rosie's tune]
Shake It Shake It Sugar, Love Me Tender and [orally]
They had to pull me off, I was having too much fun

They say the road to true success, lies down the same road as distress
Which is which I cannot tell, some paradise some will tell
At least unto the casual glance, to prove I value sweet romance
They all seemed fine until she unzips her face

Don't try to crash the promised land, slip the bird that's in the hand
Pick the cherries on the tree and leave the burning bush to be
Heaven sent is heaven bound, shut your mouth and hold your ground
Be a hard time in the old town tonight

After the show but before the fall, I packed and trickled down the hall
Picked up my check which was signed with tears, smallest crowd they've seen in years
I said I hope you'll have me back next time I roll into Hackensack
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