Homerica the Beautiful
Released in 1999. Depth of Field Records
Tracks:
"I Like That" written by Barbara Barg
"Fisher Girl" written by Maggie Dubris
"The Dragon" written by Maggie Dubris
"Sandyland" written by Maggie Dubris
"Zoom Golly" written by Barbara Barg
"Late 20th Century Sexuality" written by Barbara Barg
"Ebola Militia" written by Maggie Dubris
"The Real War" written by Maggie Dubris
"Temporary America" written by Barbara Barg
"King of the Ghosts" written by Barbara Barg and Rachel Barker
​
Videos and Lyrics can be found below, or click the links below to find their music on these platforms:
"I Like That" written by Barbara Barg
You don’t treat me like a creep, I like that
You don’t tell me I’m sweet, I like that
You don’t always tease and bait me
You don’t even hate me, I like that
You’ll even take a leak in front of me, I like that
You don’t blame all your problems on me, I like that
You don’t open doors for me
You don’t close them on me either, I like that
and That! That! That That That. That!
I-I-I-I I-I-I-I I like that I-I-I-I I-I-I-I I like that
You don’t imagine
what life would be like with me dead!
I like that.
And you make love so slow-oah-oah
And you know-oah-oah
I like that
I-I-I-I I-I-I-I like that I-I-I-I I-I-I-I like that
And you make love so slow-oah-oah
And you make love so slow-oah-oah
And you know-oah-oah
I like that
And that! That! That! That! That That!
I like that
"Fisher Girl" written by Maggie Dubris
​
What do they call you? They call me the fisher girl.
What do they call you? They call me the fisher girl.
Where were you born? In a man’s horn.
Where were you bred? In a man’s head.
Where will you die? In a man’s eye.
But where will you fly? Where will you fly?
It’s raining, it’s raining, all along the rocks
And all the little fisher girls are lifting up their frocks
It’s raining, it’s raining, all along the rocks
And all the little fisher girls are lifting up their frocks
What do they call you? They call me the fisher girl
What do they call you? They call me the fisher girl
Where were you born? In a blue morn.
Where were you bred? In a blue bed.
Where will you die? In a blue sky.
Then where will you fly? Where will you fly?
It’s shining, it’s shining, all along the docks
And all the little fisher girls are lifting up their frocks
It’s shining, it’s shining, all along the docks
And all the little fisher girls are lifting up their frocks
They call me the fisher girl.I was born in a wishing well.
I was bred in a rose’s thorn. I will die in a spindle thread
They call me the fisher girl.I was born in a wishing well.
I was bred in a rose’s thorn. I will die in a spindle thread
And I’m flying, I’m flying, out across the rocks
And all the little fisher boys are pulling up their socks
Oh I’m fly fly fly fly fly fly flying, out across the sea
And all the little fisher girls are wishing they were me.
Yeah, all the little fisher girls are wishing they were me
What do they call you?
"The Dragon" written by Maggie Dubris
Who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna be on your side?
Who's gonna stand when you cross that line?
Who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna be on your side?
Stick out your thumb and grab a ride.
What you gonna do when the tigers turn? When the shadows fall?
When the prisons burn? What you gonna do when the dragon starts to fly?
What you gonna do when the soup gets thin? When the night is long?
When the tide comes in? What you gonna do, just hang your little head and cry?
Who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna be on your side?
Stick out your thumb and grab that ride.
Who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna be on your side?
No where to run, no where to hide.
What you gonna do when the money 's gone? When the daddy's dead?
When the wind gets strong? What you gonna do when the plaster starts to show?
What you gonna do when the baby's grown? When the house is clean?
When the grass is mown? What you gonna do, just pack your little bags and go?
I learned my lessons well I learned my lessons well
For each one I rescued Another one fell
I learned my lessons well
One season in heaven One season in hell
I learned my lessons well
Who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna be on your side?
No where to run, no where to hide.
Who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna be on your side?
Hold up your head when the bullets fly.
What you gonna do when the blood runs dry? When the man walks out?
When the roses die? What you gonna do when the car goes up in flames?
What you gonna do when the shelves fall down? When the dogs get old?
When the kittens drown? What you gonna do, just close your little eyes and pray?
I learned my lessons well I learned my lessons well
For each one I rescued Another one fell
I learned my lessons well
One season in heaven One season in hell
I learned my lessons well
Who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna be on your side?
Who's gonna stand when you cross that line?
Who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna be on your side?
Stick out your thumb and grab a ride
Who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna be on your side?
No where to run, no where to hide.
Who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna who's gonna be on your side?
Hold up your head when the bullets fly.
I learned my lessons well.
"Sandyland" written by Maggie Dubris
We make our living in Sandyland
Take what’s given in Sandyland
Right and left, on to the next
Sweep that kitchen in Sandyland
We cast our shadows in Sandyland
Shake our rattles in Sandyland
Sift the meal, save the bran,
Dust those mantels in Sandyland
Do you cast a shadow
when you walk into the afternoon
the sun behind you rattling like a snake.
Do you cast a shadow
or is it just the apple seeds
that pock the earth with every step you take.
Night is coming in Sandyland
Time for loving in Sandyland
Black and white, on to the light
Light that oven in Sandyland
Light that oven in Sandyland
Pushing and shoving in Sandyland
Black and white, on to the light
The light is coming in Sandyland
The light is coming in Sandyland
Light that oven in Sandyland
Black and white, on to the light
The light is coming in Sandyland
"Zoom Golly" written by Barbara Barg
Who are we? We are no one
What do we want? A human head!
Who are we? We are everyone
What do we want?
A large portable fan AND
A nice comfortable house AND
A big field tent AND
An eager desire AND
A settlement of a dispute AND
A body of soldiers AND
A felt or cloth hat AND
A music or dramatic entertainment AND
An air-o-plane SO
We can go:
Zoom golly golly golly / Zoom golly golly / Zoom golly golly golly
Zoom golly golly golly / Zoom golly golly / Zoom golly golly golly
Life takes off like a jet!
Those little lies I let survive They line my head Fill me with dread
Those little lies I let survive They line my head Fill me with dread
Those little lies I let survive They line my head Fill me with dread
Those little lies I let survive They line my head Fill me with dread
Who are we? We are no one
What do we want? A human head!
Who are we? We are everyone
What do we want? What do we want?
Zoom golly golly golly Zoom golly golly Zoom golly golly golly
Zoom golly golly golly Zoom golly golly Zoom golly golly golly
Life takes off like a jet!
"Late 20th Century Sexuality" written by Barbara Barg
Going to the chapel and I’m gonna get married
Going to the chapel and I’m gonna get married
Ooooh, I really love you and I’m gonna get married
Going to the chapel of love . . .
I’m not a homo, I’m not a bi, I’m not a boring hetero
My sexuality cannot be defined by who I’ve got in bed-ero
He’s an agri-sexual, he likes em young, he likes em green
He’s a Vietnamvetero-sexual, he likes it bloody and he likes it mean
She’s a slomo-sexual, she loves to take her time
He’s a porno-sexual, he only digs it if it looks like it’s a crime
She’s a mojo-sexual, she likes to do it by the light of the moon
He’s a Perry Como-sexual, he hops in bed and croons a little tune
Lalalala lalalala lalala ouch
Lalalala lalalala lalala Lalalala lalalala lala
He’s a mystery-sexual, he likes to do it breathing into a phone
She’s a Garbo-sexual, she’ll only do it if she’s home in bed alone
She’s a cowgirl-sexual, she like spurs and a ride on the range
She’s a Norway rat-sexual, sleep with her, you get a case of mange
He’s a Jesus-sexual, he likes the guilt he can feel in his nuts
He’s an irate-sexual, he can’t get it up if he doesn’t hate your guts
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Lalalalalala ouch!
Isn’t it romantic-tick-tick-tick-tick….
aaaah want some of this?
I’m not a homo, I’m not a bi, I’m not a boring hetero
My sexuality cannot be defined by who I’ve got in bed-ero
Lalalalalalalalalalalalalala OUCH
"Ebola Militia" written by Maggie Dubris
At the turn of the century everything was different
Coney Island lit up like a star on the beach
On the beach, on the beach, oh everything was different
The past was over and the future to be
The rain forest hangs on the edge of dawn
Some of it burning, most of it gone
But out of the flames come a strange revenge
One last gift from the earth to men
The streets of Zaire streak red with blood
No more fire, no more flood
The streets over here the same slick mud
Don't touch it, don't touch it, don't touch, don't touch
We took what we wanted, killed what we pleased
Out of the ruined came a strange disease
One last gift from the earth to men
To take us all down and start over again
It's the turn of the century, everything is different
Bodies lit up in a fire on the beach
On the beach on the beach, oh the sands are shifting
The future falling far out of reach
The streets of Zaire streak red with blood
No more fire, no more flood
The streets over here the same slick mud
Don't touch it, don't touch it, don't touch it, don't touch it!
"The Real War" written by Maggie Dubris
Where I was living we didn't do much, we talked about the war
Some nights we drank and we went out driving
Most night we just passed out on the floor
If I tried to leave, where would I go? Ride a nightmare down
Down those roads that run in circles out of this two-bit town
What do you want when you don't want the money?
You don't want the things they're selling tonight
Your house is on fire, it burns as you run
And you run 'til you drop in the yellowing light
I watched the sun move across the yard, I watched the sun go down
A rough cafe where the lamps are burning
A better place where fires don't go out
If you want to leave just run away, by the light of the silver moon
Pack your dreams in some old suitcase, tie up your hair and move
"And she bent, and stirred the soup in rough cafes
When brown water ran in streams across the plains
When you shiver and cross yourself, in the arms of a dream
And you follow an echo across the still canyon
And you pull up the covers and dive into the sun
And the sentry is frozen. His rifle cuts the air
And I come awake at the sound of your voice
A rabbit freezes in the milky light of the moon
Saddle up your horse and go. What do you live for Uncle Joe?
You are a vagrant or you are my savior. You will never go
This is the venom of summer, dry, and it will all ignite
But don't mind the weather when the wind don't blow
Come on way down yonder we'll go"
Toss your shoes behind the railroad tracks Red train, blue moon, rolling in the grass
Roll like thunder, fall like rain Burn like the summer again again
Burn like the summer again
What do you want when you don't want the money?
You don't want the the things they're selling tonight
Your house is on fire, it burns as you run
and you run 'til you drop in the yellowing light
"Temporary America" written by Barbara Barg
Hey Girl / Where you going with that gun in your hand?
God Bless America / Oh say can you see . . .
First they bust the unions
Then they bust my ass
In Temporary America
Don't want no organization
In the working class
In Temporary America
Contempt for the worker
Is what we get
In Temporary America
No job security
No benefits
In Temporary America
I'm s-so t-tired of l-living in T-Tempor-rary Am-m-merica
In Temporary/ In Tempor-r-rary Contemporary
Contempt Contempt Contempt For Temporary America
When frustration is high
People they go insane
In Temporary America
They be picking up guns
blowing folks away
Contemporary America
It's not the TV
makes violence thrive
It's Temporary America
I lay awake in my bed
As the bullets fly
Through Temporary America
I'm not looking for an evolution I'm not looking for a new solution
I'm gonna let them kill me Day by Day
I don't want no worker to unite me If they downsize, pray it's not me
I'm gonna let them kill me Day by Day
Oh Day by Day Oh Day by Day I'm gonna let them kill me Day by Day
I'm not looking for the worker's power I'm just waiting for the final hour
I'm gonna let them kill me Day by Day
Oh Day by Day Oh Day by Day I'm gonna let them kill me Day by Day
I'm not looking for the worker's power I'm just waiting for the final hour
I'm gonna let them kill me Day by, I'm gonna let them kill me Day by,
I'm gonna let them kill me Day by Day
The food is fast
And the work is dumb
In Temporary America
The workers praying
for Christ to come
To Temporary America
My rent is high
And my ink is red
In Temporary America
I never seem to
Come out ahead
In Temporary America
I'm s-so t-tired of l-living in T-Tempor-rary Am-m-merica
In Temporary/ In Tempor-r-rary Contemporary
Contempt Contempt Contempt For Temporary America
In t-temp-pa-pa-rary ama-ma ama ama / ama-ma ama ama
a-ma-ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma ma-ma ma-ma
ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-merica!
"The King of the Ghosts" written by Barbara Barg and Rachel Barker
Outside my window, the rain's coming down
And if I had wings I would fly like a moth from this town
The roaches all run as I pull on the light
in the heart of the city tonight
Outside my window, the men lie so still
Tossed up like shells on the edge of the streets that they fill
I think they got used up a long time ago
in some small town that nobody knows
Outside my window, the men drink their fire
they swear and they laugh as the sun in the sky rises higher
It sails every night in the veins of their arms
and burns like a port in the storm
He spelled his name like Jesus
They called him Hey-Zeus Hey Hey Hey
You'll go down so many times
before God comes around to cut you loose
Did you come up here from Mexico?
On that big wide open road
Then one day One day One day you just got old
If I burn with a fever or die from the cold
Outside my window are so many tales to be told