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GREEN CHEESE MOON MAN
Words and Music © 2009 by Larry Baran, Ralph Forst
SPOKEN
....now take a picture of this. (uh huh) I'm in Vegas, doin' blackjack.
Man I'm hitting 12's and 13's and getting nothing but face cards.
I'm thinkin', I've got to get back to LA. (been there)
So I'm on interstate 15, stopping for gas at exit, uh, you know,
that desert town with the Marine Corps supply base. (uh huh)
There's this guy down there begging for change.
I stopped to talk to him.
Man, he reminded me of those Japanese soldiers you
here about sometimes still fighting WW 2 up in the hills of Okinawa. (right)
They didn't get the memo. Hey!
Uncle Sam dropped a couple uranium bombs on your little island over there.
Hirohito kissed MacArthur's ring. (yep) war's over man!!
So I should have said to this guy.
Hey man! war's over! The hippies are all gone!
Final score: Government 1, Hippies nothing. (yeah yeah) Get a hair cut!
No more hash brownies and peyote buttons with mescaline sauce for desert.
(gotcha gotcha) oh man..!
CHORUS:
He don't remember the '60's. He was having too much fun.
Can't tell you about the '70's. Can't remember a single one.
Is he a street corner prophet or a space cadet?
Or maybe the chosen one.
Lives life with the beasts in the alleyways, laughing at the sun.
Verse 1
Driving one night thru Barstow just like I always do.
Exit the hiway at Main Street instead of driving straight on thru.
I see a figure standing in the shadow with a tin cup at his feet.
Ya know, I 've seen this guy before. He looks familiar to me.
"Hey man, aren't you Aqualung?", I asked with mock respect.
"I've seen you here many-a-time before - ain't you tired of this yet?"
"If you have the time tell me about yourself. I'd really like to know
how you wound up beggin' at the exit ramp -
Don't you have nowhere else to go?"
He told me about his daydream; of soaring eagles high
of injuns on the white plains and mushrooms in the sky.
I was surprised by his candor; the baring of his soul
but I ain't heard nothing yet - as he was about to show
He looked me straight in the eye with that Manson/Manson glare
"You just listen here now boy, I got something real to share" and he said:
"Utopian visions of an empty sea; sunken ships listing on a pharoah's knee.
Blue iced water with a tinge of blood; sunken hopes drifting on sea of mud"
Perplexed and amused by his startling news, I needed some clarification.
I asked him to explain what he meant by his lucid bipolar recitation. And he said:
" Cats crawling sideways but their mice can't run. Beasts in the alleyways laughing at the sun.
Dirt dries the pavement but it still won't rain from clouds made of sulfur in our atmospheric drain."
Oh now I get it. It's abundantly clear to me now.
Now I know where he's coming from and right where he's been.
CHORUS:
Verse 2
This was all such a revelation, an enlightening evening too.
This man had something important to say concerning me and you.
He's either a raving loony madman with a secret known to us all
or a guard at the gates of sanity trying to catch us before we fall.
" Hey man, say Aqualung?", I continued the interview.
He really got my curiosity up. "I need to hear some more from you."
I never expected such lofty prose - such eloquent verse and rhyme.
from an old man wandering lonely obviously near the end of his line.
He told me more of his daydream; of angels on the road.
but he questioned their authenticity: "Angels usually don't fly this low"
I was ready for the rest of the story. Could it get any better than this?
but I ain't heard the best of it yet - this you don't wanna miss
He looked me straight in the eye with that Manson/Manson glare
"You just listen here now boy, I got something real to share" and he said:
"Truth equals peace but the peace won't last in a world made of fossils from our prehistoric past.
History remains locked behind closed doors and teaches us to learn while men still fight wars"
Well that was something I could relate to in spite of him being obtuse
On some level I agreed with the sentiment. "Which end-of-the-world is this?" . And he said:
" Gold is the new God; Banks are the churches.
Silver buys the saving grace. Priests are the merchants.
In the cold steel canyons of the halls of money's creed,
the future sons of worldly grace count stacks of their father's greed.
Oh now I get it. Damn that was good!
Now I know where he's coming from and right where he's been.
CHORUS: (twice)
Hey, yoo da man, or somebody like him. So, what did you say your name was? Hey man, what's your name?
"I'm the green cheese moon man with the silver-spaded claw hand"
"I'm the green cheese moon man with the silver-spaded claw hand"
"I'm the green cheese moon man with the silver-spaded claw hand"
"I'm the green cheese moon man"
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