"Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth,
but that which is good to the use of edifying, that
it may minister grace unto the hearers."
Ephesians 4:29

Comprised mostly of uninteresting travel content from the "Runaway Truck Tour" in 2011 (which is interesting in the context of a music video), "Certain Stratospheres" will always be an A-list tune in my set. Fortunately, I was able to change the lyric to "toasts are for vassals with castles and moats;" like it or not, respecting Ephesians 4:29 is a higher priority than preserving the sanctity of a song lyric so people think I'm cool. I've put all my songs to the test, and fortunately most of them can be salvaged. If I can't change the lyric (if the lyric can't be changed), I can't play the song. I'm not going to DELETE it and pretend I didn't write it, but I'm not there anymore, and the song is in the rearview where it belongs. Singing bad language would be like moving into your girlfriend from high school's house like it's home. Losing bad language is the beginning of Ephesians 4:29. It's the easy part. "Ministering grace unto the hearers" of your speech isn't necessarily natural for some of us, but losing the habit of using bad language is a start. Even if I start down that road limping, I'm going to take the steps.

All I ask is that you reserve your judgment on the finer points of religious adherence until you're on that path yourself. Once you're actually on it, you'll find your focus will be on staying upright and moving forward. You will lose the capacity for condemning others for not getting an A+ on every test. You will be grateful to God for tutoring you along the way, and not abandoning you.

Whether they're punk rockers or Southern Baptists, people who point their broken finger at you for not performing at 100% capacity 100% of the time almost always are angry that someone has raised their bar above an easy, comfortable 0%. Having standards higher than the gutter or the grave is offensive to many. Let them scoff, and scorn, and laugh. Their derision is their problem. It's none of your business.

Thanks for listening.

Idaho (all the diamonds you can eat)

I left her back in Idaho
what she’s doing, I don’t know
whatever it is, you know she ain’t’ doing it for me
I think about her every day
from Chicago to L.A.
thank God that I’m in Phoenix, maybe now I’ll finally get a break

no I haven’t lost my mind
I just left most of it behind
and whatever’s missing, baby, I don’t need it anymore
I’m so far away from home
under clouds of styrofoam
everything is made of sugar, but nothing’s very sweet

I am not complete
and I have got no time
but as long as I’m here
I think I’ll stay
as long as you’re laughing at me
as long as we’re both having fun

love your enemies
drown ‘em in the seven seas
won’t you spend another night with me on the kitchen floor?
if I should die before I melt
I’ll see you in the Bible Belt
but we both know that’s it’s what you got below the belt that counts

I wish I had a drink
I wish I had some weed
I wish I had a wife
I wish that I could read

so baby, take off your advice
baby, name your price
laugh at my expense
sit up on my fence
you can spend all the money in your mind
on a cheap pair of rhinestone-studded shoes
baby’s got them high-heeled blues

lick yourself off the floor
kick yourself out the door
and cash your very last paycheck in the sky
set fire to a swarm of bees
the insults grow on trees
but I’m so close to bliss, ain’t nothin’ left to understand…

do you drink every night?
do you steal?
do you fight?
do you feel like a meal?
are you strapped to the wheel?
baby you look so fine
when you look me in the spine
you’re pretty
you’re cool
you’re petty
you’re cruel
and I never felt so clean, yes it’s true
as I did when I was rollin’ in the mud with you
baby, we got a wheelchair built for 2

I got a mouthful of mud
a bottle of Bud
I lost 5 pints of blood in a game of 5-card stud
and I know you’re having fun
but wake up my son
it’s time yes it’s time to feed the pigs

I don’t care if you’re the light
I don’t think that you’re so bright
I ain’t never comin’ back
I ain’t never comin’ back
I ain’t never comin’ back
I ain’t never comin’ back
I ain’t never comin’ back
put your money in my sack
all the tricks you can treat
all the diamonds you can eat
all the drivers in your drunk
all the bottoms in your bunk
all the traps in your trail
all the buckets in your pail
all the stale in your mate
all the clean on your plate
I’d rather wake up naked in a bathtub full of snakes
than spend another minute living under
the cloud
of your incredibly fascist way of life

my food is full of fleas
I feel so at ease
when you call and when you throw your broken dishes on the floor
and I feel so good
‘cuz I know you understood
when you walk away and point your broken finger at me
when you point your broken finger at me…

©Nathan Payne
November 2001-June 2002
Los Angeles