Williamsburg Will Oldham Horror

Today I went to Major Matt's
To remaster my old album
And on the L train in the morning
I was pretty sure I saw Will Oldham
He was wearin' the same sunglasses he had
On stage at the Bowery Ballroom
Had he come to walk among
The Williamsburgers of his kingdom

And like the burghers of Calais
Will a sacrifice be demanded?
To offer up our dreams and
Beg for mercy empty handed?
And hapless in our hipness crowded
5 to an appartment
Relegate our dreams to hobbies
And deny our disappointment
Cause The Stones in '65
Want total satisfaction, kid
But The Stones in '69 see grace
In just getting what you need
But if that's a victory then I'd hate
To see what I'd look like defeated
Cause I know there are those among us
Who seem to get their dreams unimpeded

Today I went to Major Matt's
To remaster my old album
And on the L train in the morning
I was really sure i saw Will Oldham
He was wearin' the same sunglasses he had
On stage at the Bowery Ballroom
Had he come to walk among
The Williamsburgers of his kingdom

And you might say now there's a guy who seems
To have their world laid out before him
Or you might say, he's just a rich kid or
A fascist or a charlatan
But either way you say it if you look
At indie-rock culture you really
Can't ignore him
And even if at first dismissive
After some listens you'll enjoy him
I was thinking this on the L train
Intend on bursting my own bubble
How long should an artist struggle before
It isn't worth the hassle?
And admit we aren't fit to be
The one inside the castle
This quest for greatness or
At least hipness, just a scam
And too much trouble but then what makes on
Human being worthy of an easy ride
Born to be a natural artist you
Love or hate but can't deny
While us minions in our millions
Tumble into history's chasm
We might have a couple of laughs
But we're still wastes of protoplasm

Today I was gonna waste some time and
Money to remaster some dumb old album
And on the L train in the morning
I was really sure I saw Will Oldham
He was wearin' the same big sunglasses he
Had on stage at the Bowery Ballroom
Had he come to see the strife here
In the gutters of his kingdom?

Where us noble starving artists are
Striving to feed our ego
Our mothers like our music our our
Friends come to our shows
And if our friends become successful
We'll consider them our foes
Go home to our 4 roomates after
Payin' big bucks for rockstars shows
What a nightmare! what a horror! i
Don't want no part of this
Get me off this crazy ride i'm gonna puke
I'm gonna piss! I'd rather kill myself
I'd rather just relax or not exist
But you say you wanna do an e
Mail interview? Oh what the heck
I can't resist! "Hey, 'ma, guess what today
I did another magazine interview!
Honey, that's great
You're really famous!" yeah and I'm 27 too!
I kinda thought I was gonna grow up
To do stuff that would benefit humanity
But it's getting harder to tell if this
Artist's life is even benefitting me

Cause I was gonna waste some time and money
Today to remaster some dumb old album
And on the L train in the morning
I was totally sure I saw Will Oldham
He was wearin' the same big sunglasses he
Had on stage at the bowery ballroom

And since I was feeling in need of answers
I just went right up and asked him, i said
Will Bonnie Prince
Palace or whatever "What do
You think about it?
Is it worth being an artist
Or an indie-rock star
Or are you better off without it?"
Cause I mean maybe the world would be better
If we were all just uncreative drones
No dead child, hood dreams to
Haunt us, a decent job, a decent home
And if we have some extra time we
Could do real things to promote peace
Become scientists or history teachers or
Un-corrupt police at least "Come on Will
You gotta tell me!" I grabbed and
Shook him by the arm
The L train was leaving Bedford with 10
000 white twenty-somethings crowded on
He opened his mouth to speak but it was
Lost in the rumbling of the wheels
We were thrown together in a corner
And I yelled "Tell me, man, for real!"
You're living comfortably, I assume
Even if you're not quite a household name
You've reached a pretty high level
Of success & critical acclaim
The L train got to first avenue and
A bunch of people piled out
I was starring into his sunglasses and I
Was really freakin' out i was like
Steamboat Willie Bonnie Prince of
All this shit
You're like the king of a certain genre
But even you must want to
Quit like if you hear
A record by Bob Dylan or
Neil Young or whatever
You must start thinkin' "People like me
But i won't be that good ever"
And I'm sure the thing is probably Dylan
Himself too stayed up some nights
Wishing he was as good as Ginsberg or Camus
And he was like "Dude, I'm such a faker
I'm just a clown who entertains
And these fools who pay for my crap
They just have pathetic punny brains
And Camus probably wished he was
Milton too or whatever
You know what I'm sayin'?!" so Will
Will you be straight with me now that
It's just us 2 on this train?
Cause I was gonna spend some time and money
Today to remaster some dumb old album
And I saw you here on the L train
And I was like "Hey, is that
Will Oldham?" he must at least
Have some perspective cause it's like
Living in this town I get so confused
& wound up & up tight
And I just don't know up from down
And then we'd reached the last stop
And the subway was deserted
There was a long moment of silence and
I let go of his shirt
I started to think that maybe I'd
Made some kind of big mistake
I tried to walk out onto the platform
But by then it was too late
His sunglasses seemed to grow darker and
Still he hadn't even spoke
He just came right up behind me and
Put his hand around my throat
And threw me down onto the concrete and
Kicked my face in with his boot
And dragged me down onto the train tracks and
Tied my hands back with his coat
And I was slipping out of conciousness as
He was slipping down my jeans
And he was punching me and humping me
And I slipped off into a dream
So it might have just been a delusion
But I thought I heard him say
Something like "Artists are pussies"
Then he climbed back up and ran away
So I lay there in the darkness on
The train tracks cold and broken
The hours passed and I thought
Well maybe I won't remaster that old album
And then I started thinking maybe it
Really hadn't been Will Oldham
Even though he did hold my arms and fucked me
Just like Will sings in "A sucker's evening"
But whether it was him or not I
Couldn't forget the words he'd spoken
"Artists are pussies"
Like we're wusses or we end up getting fucked
And other kinds of folks are dicks, tall
Smart and strong
And born to fuck us up I know
It sounds really sexist and stupid
It's a terrible analogy but at that
Moment on the train tracks
It made a lot of sense to me maybe
It's just some kind of natural balance
Like 2 types of mental gender that's
Gone on in all societies
In one form or another like some
Dicks were born to conquer
I probably would if I could but
If I'm just a pussy, that's okay
Cause in a few months maybe
I'll put out something good