The only song you need to listen to at least once today.

Well, it’s that time again, when in lieu of actual content I leave you with a mix cd to download. So, uh, yeah. There you go.

01-Pavement- Spit On A Stranger

02-Q And Not U- Wonderful People

03-Superchunk- Slack Motherfucker

04-John Frusciante- A Corner

05-Lifter Puller- Manpark

06-Guided By Voices- I am A Scientist

07-Brainiac- hot seat can’t sit still

08-The Zombies- She’s Not There

09-Commander Venus- Bow To The Prom King

10-Springsteen, Costello, Van Zandt, Grohl- London Calling

11-Phil Ochs- The Highwayman

12-Black Eyes- Deformative

13-The Hot Snakes- Think About Carbs

14-Husker Du- Love Is All Around

15-The Mountain Goats- Going To Georgia

The eye had quite a bit of space to it and had been much like an open field. Though they were no longer confined to the eye it was becoming apparent that they were not finished with their journey yet.

This time Henry and the Talking Box found themselves in a sort of cave. The walls of the cave were sticky and covered in small hairs. There was a constant breeze moving through the cave and almost a little bit of a wheeze in the background.

“I think,� said the Talking Box, “That we are on the inside of a nose now. Perhaps even the nose that we could see in the horizon.�

“I wish we’d been whisked away into a forest,� said Henry. “This is getting ridiculous.�

“I agree,� said the Talking Box.

It was damp and cool inside of the nose. Unfortunately, it was also loud as the nose kept snorting.

“Perhaps we should move towards the nostril,� said Henry. “Besides it’ll be brighter there.�

“That’s a good idea,� said the Talking Box.

So they started moving towards the nostril. The ground was wet and sticky with snot and more than once Henry tripped over nose hairs. He was tempted to start plucking them, but realized that plucking the nose hairs of a being with large enough nose hairs to trip over, could quickly dispose of him without realizing it.

“This is disgusting.�

“What did we learn in the eye?� the Talking Box asked Henry. “Wasn’t it that only we, ultimately, have the ability to change our situations and surroundings?�

“If it was, I sure as hell wasn’t the one who put us in here,� said Henry.

“Touché,� said the Talking Box. “Still, I can’t help but wonder what we’re supposed to be learning in here.�

“Nasal spelunking? I don’t know. Where the hell are we? I don’t mean just as in ‘eyeball’ or ‘up a nose’. This is really starting to bother me.�

“This seems hopeless.�

Henry’s gaze was firmly cast upon the nostril. The thought of it being the light at the end of the tunnel amused him greatly. He chuckled to himself. The Talking Box was thinking something similar and if he had a mouth Henry would have a seen a large grin on it. As stood, reading the Talking Box’s emotions was still for the most part, completely impossible.

“Once,� said Henry, “I fell down the side of a mountain. I rolled actually. I was on a bus trip and we stopped in the Smokey Mountains and were hiking up the side of a mountain. On the way to the top, our tour guide had shown us a short cut. We used it for the trip up the mountain. It was a steep short cut and very hard work, but it cut out several hundred yards from the walk. It was a perfect example of that poem about the road less traveled. Anyway, a friend and I tried using it again on the way back since we were now going down the mountain and reasoned that it would be even faster using that short cut going downward. It ended up becoming the perfect example of that poem about taking the easier road, amazing that this is the exact same stretch of land on the exact same mountain. I ended up falling and rolling down the side of the mountain. I cut my back up quite a bit and got a very attractive patch of road rash across my shoulders.�

“I see,� said the Talking Box.

“What I’m trying to get at,� said Henry, “is that I’d rather have to deal with that again than crawl through this nose.�

“Be careful what you wish for,� reminded the Talking Box. “Especially in here.�

Henry grimaced. One would certainly not find them self with road rash on the inside of a nose.

“One time a young man used me to move himself to and from college. I was one of three boxes he managed to keep during the entire time he was there. For some reason I was never thrown out. He just kept using me and made sure I stayed out of harm’s way and maintained sturdy condition. That young man was admirable.�

Henry wasn’t completely sure where the talking box was going with that.

“That is to say that he wouldn’t have left me to be covered in snot inside of a nose.

It was at this time that they heard some voices. And the voices sounded familiar.

“Digging holes is like science and math. There’s different rules and physics to it. One might not see that part of it on the surface, but if we just work at it, and strip away all of that conditioning that was done to make you view digging as a simple task, you’ll really start to see what I’m talking about.�

“I keep saying the same thing about moving boxes.�

Verbal diarrhea, for certain.

It was the Hole Digger and the Box Mover, but they looked different now. They were wearing long robes like monks and walking with folded hands.

“I think that God digs holes.�

“I’m certain he moves boxes.�

Their conversation was jumping back and forth like that and Henry realized he hadn’t seen such displays of faux intellectualism since he’d taken an introduction to sociology class in college. That was also about the time he’d stopped hanging out in coffee shops.

“There is a natural order to everything: stationary or in movement. That is my purpose,� said the Box Mover. “Movement.�

“Holes must be dug.�

Henry and the Talking Box were more than a little bit confused.

“I thought we’d moved on because we made some sort of discovery about ourselves, but now I’m not so sure of that,� said Henry.

“What the hell happened to those two jackasses?� asked the Talking Box. “How have they gone from garden variety morons to ‘enlightened religious figures’? They sound like they’re drunk on Hare Krishna backwash.�

“The thing that always bothered me the most about religions,� said Henry, “was blind adherence to traditions. There were so many songs and liturgies that people could recite in their sleep, that if you asked them what they were saying they wouldn’t be able to tell you without using the same meaningless words they’d memorized. When they would try to come up with realizations of their own or explain their personal understanding of their faith, it usually came out sounding like those two boneheads.�

“Religion for the Monday Night Football set?�

“The QVC generation.�

“The path of the righteous man is dug with his spade into the ground,� said the Hole Digger.

“You can put destiny in a box and take it with you wherever you go,� said the Box Mover.

Henry groaned and the Talking Box shook his head in his characteristic style which no one, of course, noticed.

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference,� said the Talking Box.

“What does that mean, brother?� asked the Hole Digger.

“It means, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it,� said Henry. “But he means that he’s trying to stay calm enough not to take a box cutter to both of you.�

“He doesn’t have any arms,� said the Hole Digger.

“Thank your lucky stars then,� replied Henry.

“I will give praise to my spade, until the time of reckoning.�

The Box Mover remained silent. Something about the Talking Box was making him very uncomfortable. He couldn’t put his finger on why though, and lacked the intelligence and vocabulary to express why he was uncomfortable. Finally an idea clicked-

“LORD FORGIVE ME AND ALL OF MY SINDS AND FOR NOT IDENTIFYING YOU SOONER I’M SO SORRY I AM NOT A SMART MAN BUT MY HEART IS FAITHFUL TO YOU AND ONLY YOU!�

If the Talking Box had hands to hold his non-existent head in, he certainly would have done that. And he would have been crying. As he didn’t have hands or a head, his confusion went, for the most part, unnoticed.

“WHAT SHOULD I DO MY LORD? TELL ME!�

Henry watched on in amusement and the Hole Digger was tuned in as well. The Talking Box didn’t really know what to say. He was so uncertain of what to say that his response, while rife with sarcasm, came across as a command to the Box Mover.

The response was simple, direct and very to the point:

“Kill yourself.�

The Box Mover nodded his head, tore the shovel away from the Hole Digger’s hands and fell on the head of it, stabbing himself directly through the heart.

“I’ll never forget you,� the Box Mover said.

The Hole Digger watched in amazement, and Henry was completely aghast. The Talking Box was in shock as he didn’t think the Box Mover would actually do it. As was normal to any response he had to anything, no one was able to tell what he was feeling.

“What did you do?� Henry asked, still horrified. “You knew he wasn’t that bright!�

“My friend was shown the way,� said the Hole Digger. “He will now be with his God forever.�

“If,� said the Talking Box, “I have that guy following me around forever, I’m going to find a way to kill him again.�

Everyone was silent.

The Box Mover vanished into thin air.

The trio collected themselves and kept walking. They were almost to the opening at the end of the nostril.

“This cave is a hole,� said the Hole Digger. “It’s not a very good hole though. These hairs are sticking out like roots. When I dig holes and come across roots, I cut them through them with a pair of hedge clippers. If the roots are really big, I use a chain saw. I’m a very good hole digger. My holes are always very well done and clean looking. I think this is the worst hole I’ve ever seen.�

“Will you please just bury yourself?� asked the Talking Box.

“That’s a paradox I’d care to not attempt,� said the Hole Digger.

“We’ll help you. Really.�

“Just play nice,� interjected an aggravated Henry. He was still angry about the abrupt end of the Box Mover.

They finally arrived at the end of the nostril and were able to look down from it to the edge of the upper lip. It was like a cliff and the mouth below was like a canyon.

“I’m not sure how I feel about walking on a sentient landscape,� said the Talking Box.

“Some people would say that you always are,� said Henry. “They believe that everything is apart of one living being and everything in that living being serves a purpose and place.�

“And are those people here right now?�

“Well, no, but-“

“There’s always a special place for holes,� said the Hole Digger, trying to rejoin the conversation.

“Go dig a grave. Preferably yours!� snapped the Talking Box.

“I already have done that. But it’s not here and nor is it my time for that.�

“I’d have to say that I find that rather disappointing.�

“Life is full of little disappointments.�

“That isn’t minimizing my disappointment.�

“Life is full of little disappointments.�

Henry shook his head. He was starting to sense the Talking Box’s emotions much better. He was learning to read the body language of his friend’s flaps and corners and was starting to see some of the gestures his friend was (but wasn’t) making.

“I think this lesson was about acceptance,� said Henry.

“Acceptance of what?� asked the Talking Box.

“The serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.�

“If that’s our lesson, then why can it be reduced to an expression that elderly women cross stitch onto anything that they can get it to fit on?� asked the Talking Box.

With that little bit of sarcastic wit, the trio vanished again. The nose sneezed.

Henry woke up on the surface feeling bedraggled and sore. It was a disorienting way to wake up and the surface was fairly dry. There were large radiating red cracks all along the surface.

Henry ran his fingers though his hair and dug his heels into the surface. He could feel the ground shake beneath his feet.

What the hell?

The ground was white. Towards the center of the landscape was a large blue expanse that looked almost like marble. It was very glossy and soft to the touch. It was even a little slippery. It was sort of like it was an eyeball-

Oh dear.

Henry was frantically trying to think about the last thing he could remember. There was dinner- no, wait a taxi cab- no, the museum- no work- no-

Damn it.

There had to be a reasonable explanation for this. It was certainly a strange way to wake up, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a reasonable explanation for why it was happening. The trick was to remain calm and to think clearly; to not get carried away.

To maintain sanity.

Precious, precious, sweet sanity.

Henry decided that he’d better take his shoes off. Perhaps the ground would stop moving so much if he wasn’t wearing socks. The ground- the eye- he’d have to get used to saying that. The eye- an eye? Why an eye? Why was he walking on an eye?

Henry scratched his chin, sat down, and took off his shoes. He tied the laces together and tossed the shoes over his shoulder. He felt like a Mark Twain character.

His shoes resting firmly on his shoulder, he had a little bit of time to examine the state of his socks. They were in need of being replaced. The formerly white pair were starting to look gray and were also forming holes in more than one spot.

“I really shouldn’t be so cheap,� thought Henry. “I wonder if I’ll ever get to replace these.�

He shook his head. Here he was walking on the surface of an eye, shoes slung over his shoulder like Huckleberry Finn wading through the Mississippi River, and all he could take the time to think about was the state of his socks. He should have been thinking about the landscape.

He could see towards the ridges and folds of the eyelids and eyelashes. Off in the very far distance he could see, standing like a mountain or a god of some sort, the nose. The eye brows stood further away like the faint ridges off mountains lost in the cloud filled horizon. The horizon itself was quite strange looking as everything had a fleshy tinge to it. It looked like a desert. A big, fleshy desert.

He was still soaking it all in when he wondered if he’d bothered to close the garage door. Had he shut off the bathroom light? Did he lock the door? The faucet to the bathroom sink was still running, was it? Did he put the flag up on the mail box so the postman would pick up his telephone bill? Why was he asking himself these questions? Where was he?

The Talking Box arrived at a very convenient moment for Henry. It was almost too convenient as it gave him a way to take his mind off of his situation for a moment.

“Hello, Henry,� said the Talking Box.

“Why does your ‘this end up’ tag point in the wrong direction?� Henry asked the Box.

“Why was that your first question? Most people would have asked why I knew your name without you telling me.�

“I don’t know,� said Henry. “It just sort of bothered me.�

“I see,� said the Talking Box.

There was nothing terribly special about the Talking Box. It looked like a normal card board box. It was brown, had four flaps on the top, a misplaced “this end up� sticker on it’s side, and the word “books� scribbled in permanent marker on one of the flaps in a nearly illegible scrawl. Henry assumed some had used the Talking Box when they were moving.

“Where are we?� Henry asked.

The Talking Box shrugged. That is to say that it did not shrug in a manner that Henry readily recognized as shrugging since the Talking box lacked arms, shoulders, a neck, and the facial expressions necessary to convey the impression of uncertainty. So while it was not a shrug that most would recognize as a shrug, it should at least be noted that the Talking Box didn’t know why it was on an eye with Henry at that moment either.

“I’m not sure,� said the Talking Box. “Texas?�

Henry nodded. That made sense. Kind of. Maybe. No. No it didn’t.

“I’ve never been to an eyeball before,� said Henry. “I’ve stared into people’s eyes before, but it never occurred to me that I could just up and visit someone’s eyeball like I’d go and visit a friend in another city or across town.�

“I like the curves to the landscape,� said the Talking Box. “The way the nose, the cheeks, and rest of the face roll off into the distance reminds me of a Grant Wood painting. This is the most real thing I’ve ever seen.�

Indeed the Talking Box was right. The cheeks were like rolling Midwestern hills and the lips, though far away on the horizon looked like a lovely prairie valley. All that was missing was prairie grass and farmers.

Grant Wood would have been proud.

“Do you get the feeling that we’re supposed to be learning something by being here?� Henry asked the Talking Box.

“Perhaps, but I’m not sure what.�

It was at this time that two men materialized in front of them. One of the men was wearing a hard hat and carrying a shovel. The other wore a back brace and had a crate in his arms. They were in the middle of a conversation.

“Hello,� said Henry. “How do you do?�

“I’m well,� said the man with the crate. “Do you need anyone to move your box?�

Henry looked towards the Talking Box who was again shrugging though no one was able to tell.

“No,� said Henry. “Why do you ask?�

“That’s what my job is,� replied the man. “I’m a box mover. All day long I move boxes from one place to another. I am a champion of box moving.�

“Why do you move the boxes?� Henry asked.

“I don’t know,� said the Box Mover. “My foreman hasn’t told me and I haven’t asked. My job isn’t to ask questions, it’s to move boxes.�

“I see.�

Henry looked at the man with the shovel.

“And what do you do?�

“I dig holes. I am an excellent hole digger. I can dig a hole much faster than most people can.�

“Why do you dig the holes?� asked the Talking Box.

“Your box can talk!� the Box Mover and Hole Digger shouted in unison.

“Yes, he can,� replied Henry. “But why is it you dig the holes?�

“I don’t know,� said the Hole Digger. “I just dig holes. My job isn’t asking questions. I’m not very good at doing that. Not as good as I am at digging holes, anyway.�

“Well,� said Henry. “The four of us seem to be stuck here and the Talking Box and I are trying to figure out why that is. What do you men think?�

“I thought you needed me to move your box,� said the Box Mover. “I’m an excellent box mover. The best even.�

The Talking Box shook his head. This, of course, should be pointed out as merely being a figure of speech as the Talking Box did not have a head to shake and much like his constant shrugging, no one could tell what he was doing anyway.

“Can I move your box?� asked the Box Mover.

“I’m happy where I am and I am no man’s box,� said the Talking Box.

“Do you need me to dig a hole,� asked the Hole Digger. “I can dig the best hole you’ve ever seen.�

“We don’t need any boxes moved or holes dug,� said Henry.

“Have you men ever thought of branching out and learning a different set of skills?� the Talking Box asked.

“My foreman wouldn’t like that,� said the Box Mover.

“Digging Holes is all I know,� said the Hole Digger.

Henry sighed. The Talking Box rolled his eyes, though no one noticed him doing so.

“If you could do something else though, have you thought about what that might be?�

The Hole Digger and Box Mover stared blankly.

“There are other things that you’re good at, right?�

The Box Mover raised his hand much like an elementary school student raises their hand to ask permission to use the restroom.

“I’ve thought about hiding things,� he said. “I could hid things very well. It’s a lot like moving boxes, only instead of putting things in a specified place, I could set them where only I would be able to find them.�

The Hole Digger looked very excited all of a sudden. His eyes were lit up like a four-year-old at a birthday party.

“I’ve thought about finding things,� he said. “Sometimes when I’m digging holes I find things. It would be like a natural extension of the work I’m already doing.�

“Perhaps we could work together,� said the Box Mover.

“Perhaps.�

The Talking Box and Henry stared at each other. Their new found friends may not have been terribly bright, but seemed to have found a reason for being brought to the surface of the eyeball. Just as abruptly as they had appeared, the Box Mover and the Hole Digger vanished into nothingness.

“They were dim, but pleasant,� said the Talking Box.

“They seemed happier than I am,� said Henry.

Henry and the Talking Box resumed staring at the horizon. Henry noticed that the eyelids were closer than they had been before. He was worried that the lids might close over him before he had a chance to figure out whatever it was he was supposed to being figuring out. The Talking Box held a similar fear. The eyelids seemed like a permanent sunset and neither of them wanted to find out what would happen if they were enveloped by them.

“You know, the Box Mover and Hole Digger seemed to find a common bond and purpose much more easily than we have,� said the Talking Box.

“It would seem that way,� said Henry.

“What do you do Henry?�

“I work in an office. Everyday I take phone calls from dissatisfied customers and try to make them into satisfied customers. They tend to vent all of their frustration with life onto me ignoring the fact that they are calling in to complain about a service that they have elected to use and is not something that is necessary for them to have. I don’t feel any loyalty to this job, don’t really care if my customers are satisfied or dissatisfied with my company, and on top of all of that, I don’t really even like the people that I work with.�

“That sounds depressing, how do you deal with it?� asked the Talking Box.

“Well, I read lots of books, I draw lots of pictures and doodle, and use as much company time as I possibly can for my own leisure. At least twice a day I retire to the restroom where I take twenty minutes to shit or read books. Or both.�

“Do they even notice?� asked the Talking Box.

“No, they don’t. I’ve been there for so long and I’m so quiet that they just view me as a model employee and no one questions that assessment at all. I completely resent and hate my job and they don’t notice this, realize this, or even care about this.�

“Is this what you expected from life?� asked the Talking Box.

“Not really,� said Henry. “Actually, no. It’s not. It’s the complete opposite of what I expected life to be like. I feel responsible paying my bills on time, not owing too much money to anyone, not sinking desperately into credit debt, and the like, but there’s a definite lack of adventure and excitement and it hurts to think about it. I appreciate comfort and normality but living by the seat of your pants has a certain charm to it.�

“Yeah,� said the Talking Box. He looked sad, but since he had no face and therefore no way to express emotion physically, it was not a very obvious sad face.

“There’s got to be a line between responsibility and adventure that can leave me satisfied and happy. I appreciate comfort but shaking things up once in awhile would be good too. What’s the happy medium?�

“Once,� said the Talking Box, “ an old woman filled me up with chocolate chip cookies and took me to a church garage sale. She loved that church. She loved the community there and all of the people within that community. She would do her best to visit that building three to four times a week. On the day she died she confessed that she didn’t believe a word about heaven and hell and had only been visiting the place for the people who paid attention to her and made her feel important in her declining years. They didn’t treat her as though she was tired, used up, and outdated. They made her feel alive in that community without her accepting any of their beliefs or tenants.�

“I can’t go to church, I just don’t identify with it,� said Henry.

“I know the feeling,� said the Talking Box. “The whole place feels like a picture of a painting. The meaning has been removed and made into a copy of a print of a copy. I can still see the glare from the flash and a finger tip in the frame.�

Henry looked towards the eyelids again. They were closed further than before. What was going to happen when they lids completely closed? Henry hated feeling like a prisoner awaiting his doom.

“I never went to Alaska,� said Henry.

“I’ve never seen the Mona Lisa,� said the Talking Box.

“I’ve never walked through an Austrian Vineyard or an Italian Villa�

“I’ve never been to Oregon.�

“I’ve never made love on the beach.�

“I’ve never written a novel.�

“I haven’t made any attempts at doing any of the things that would actually make me happy,� said Henry. “If I had I’d feel much more fulfilled. Instead I keep saying ‘tomorrow’ or ‘that can wait’ or ‘I have plenty of time’.�

“And the reality is that you don’t if you never make it,� said the Talking Box.

Henry started laughing and it was almost hysterical.

“I’m digging a hole,� he said. “For myself that is. And I’m very good at digging it.�

“And I’m a box who’s good at moving,� said the Talking Box. “We laugh at the simplicity of the others we meet, but when it comes down to it, we’re jealous of how happy they are in their simplicity and how sincere they actually are about it even though we can’t begin to fathom why.�

“Such is the high cost of narcissism,� said Henry. “It’s unfortunate that I was given an inferiority complex to balance that out.�

“That just adds to the great comedy that is our lives. I hope somewhere a painter is looking back at us on canvas and laughing his ass off.�

“I hope that painter is Grant Wood.�

“I think he’d approve.�

The eyelids were still closing, but not as quickly. Henry was entertaining the idea of plucking eyelashes to use as a rope for an escape.

He was also thinking a man he had once known who had a glass eye. The man had lost his eye in a car accident and every now and then, just to disturb people, liked to pluck the glass eye from its socket and walk around empty. He’s get a wicked thrill from the looks people would give him and his dead socket.

“Why couldn’t this be a glass eye?� Henry thought to himself.

“Once,� said the Talking Box, “two lovers got in a heated argument. The man was throwing things and shouting and the woman grabbed me and started to pack me full of her personal belongings while insisting she was leaving. They shouted at each other in the loudest screaming argument I have ever witnessed for well over two hours, and right when she was ready to leave and walk out the door, everything stopped in dead silence. Their eyes met up, they smiled, and they ran into each other’s arms, stopped fighting and made love right there on the floor. It was filled with fire and passion and was completely honest, carnal, and without any pretense whatsoever. It’s a kind of passion I was jealous to witness and I’ve felt the desire to experience. Unfortunately, my relationships are short and unfulfilling and almost like puppet shows of that kind of raw animal-like lust.�

“I haven’t gotten laid in months,� said Henry. “And the last time I did it wasn’t that great. I felt like an assembly line worker- going through the motions without any thought. I’m surprised I was able to finish.�

“Digging holes?� asked the Talking Box.

“Finding things too,� said Henry.

“This eye is lonely,� said the Talking Box. It’s just like us. Do you think that’s why we’re here?�

“Possibly,� said Henry. “How do we leave here?�

“I think we just have to leave,� said the Talking Box. “We have the ability to move. We’re capable of doing it. Why don’t we just try doing it?�

“You make an interesting point,� said Henry. “And I agree with you.�

With that realization they disappeared into thin air and the eye finally closed.

You are VIOLENCE JACK OFF!

The Engrish Quiz. Find Out Engrish Which You Is.
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This is a pretty damn fancy looking blog. Keef changed servers and updated software as many of you might already be aware and this is how this little slice of the interweb will now be operating.

I’ve been in Oklahoma since Friday and I just got home. I’d like to point out that Oklahoma is a bigger wasteland than Iowa will ever be and I’ve never been so happy to be back in Council Bluffs.

F’real people. F’real.

As you all know, it’s election day. Go vote, OK?

That’s Woody Guthrie. When I drove back from Iowa City on Sunday I listened to an entire 3 cd set of his music that I downloaded via Suprnova. In fact, I’ll link the torrent for you if you’d like to download it. It’s quite large though and might take you a couple of days. It’s all songs about the depression and Woody telling stories about growing up, and the depression, and writing songs.

I enjoyed it a lot. It was the perfect thing to listen to riding across Iowa.

As it is Election Day, I’m also putting up lyrics to his best known song. Along with the ones that they usually leave out of this song. I won’t argue that it is a patriotic song, but the way it’s patriotic seems a lot more meaningful with the deleted verses.

Here we go:

This Land Is Your Land

1940, Woody Guthrie

This land is your land, this land is my land

From California to the New York Island

From the Redwood Forest to the Gulf Stream Waters

This land was made for you and me

As I went walking that ribbon of highway

And saw above me that endless skyway

And saw below me the golden valley, I said:

This land was made for you and me

I roamed and rambled, and followed my footsteps

To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts

And all around me, a voice was sounding:

This land was made for you and me

Was a big high wall there that tried to stop me

A sign was painted said: Private Property

But on the back side it didn’t say nothing

This land was made for you and me

When the sun came shining, then I was strolling

In wheat fields waving, and dust clouds rolling

The voice was chanting as the fog was lifting

This land was made for you and me

One bright sunny morning in the shadow of the steeple

By the Relief office I saw my people–

As they stood hungry, I stood there wondering if

This land was made for you and me

I think it’s an excellent election day sentiment. If you haven’t voted today, go do it now, please.

And the torrent I promised can be located here. This is a guilt-free torrent too, as all of these songs are in the public domain.