Camper Van Beethoven: Peace & Love

Restless, and three days without sleep, his mind wrapped in a barely perceptible haze, he continues east, shaking, the sputtering convulsions and near death throes of his endearing 1962 Chevrolet. The storm follows him closely, as it has for three days. In the pouring rain on the long dark highways he sees roadside casualty armadillos on their backs, and owls and bats fly out of the corners of his eyes into the blinding horizon.

Despite the solitude of his dear car, he feels he is being watched by more than just the curious deer and west Texas highway transients. At dawn, he begins to feel the first nearly imperceptible signs of the drugs taking effect. As he crosses the border east into New Mexico, there is now no question in his mind about the flavor of the coffee and the sardonic smile of the crusty over-made waitress. As he's crossing more than two states at once, his watch stops. He picks up a hitchhiker -- some young lady -- but unfortunately, as he's been expecting, his car breaks down. It's an abandoned shanty town known only as Brubaker.

"Just remember," she says. "I'm holding you responsible for all this."

He cringes at the tone of her voice. A quick glance in the rear view mirror reveals to him the vision of the 3rd unattached eyeball. A star of dried cream at the bottom of the Styrofoam coffeecup on the dashboard smiles at him and somehow, in her loneliness and boredom, her twelve-pack dwindling in the midday heat, he forces her into sex. The Chevrolet temporarily fixed, they drift on and fall about a small bar in no place specific. Drunk by evening, she complains of morning sickness, and by morning has noticeably grown in size. Two days later, still heading east towards the holy angelic temple he has been envisioning in his sleep, she is nine months pregnant. Later that day she gives birth to their son. Born with gingham snakeskin cowboy boots and three umbilical cords he is within hours cursing his parents in some otherworldly alien language. And he mutters in perfect English in his sleep, while sucking his mothers breast, his twisted Utopian visions. She looks at him terrified and says, "Remember, I'm holding you responsible for all of this."

LEFT CHANNEL BACKGROUND LYRICS
Too much open space
Makes me nervous
Too much ginseng
I go to Wyoming
Then they cull the whole fucking state
Then they doctor some fucking open spaces
Give some cowboys some acid

Too many good things
Makes me nervous
Nothing seems right now
Too many open spaces
Makes me nervous
Yes, Wyoming can make me nervous



So we're gonna go up to Wyoming
And open some fucking open spaces
And call for some hotel rooms
And look at the turd in the open spaces


Don't say it's a good thing
Don't say its a bad thing
You don't know what you're doing
You can do anything
Yeah you can do anything
Yes you can do anything

You don't know what you're doing
You do nothing at all
Because there's dry wide open spaces
And voodoo children
Cos you can stay here forever

Yeah I can see enormous cowboys upon the horizon
They're all on acid
They don't know what they're doing
So they can do anything in hotel rooms

...horizon
Enormous cowboys on acid
Enormous cowboys on...


RIGHT CHANNEL BACKGROUND LYRICS
Peace and Love
Love and Anger
Brotherly Love
Fatherly Love
I thought I had something to say
But I forgot what it was
I'm gonna try and say it anyway

Too much ginseng
Makes me nervous
Organization
Shortened sounds
Too much ginger
Takes me over
John the Baptist
Comes to mind

I've got to drive faster
The road is falling
In front of my eyes
I've got to drive faster
If I want to get home

If I don't look where I'm going
I'm gonna get killed
If I don't look where I'm going
I'm gonna get killed
If I don't look where I'm going
I'm gonna get killed

I've got to drive faster
The road is falling
In front of my eyes
I've got to drive faster
If I want to get home

I've got to drive faster
The road is falling
In front of my eyes
I've got to drive faster
If I want to get home