Come and ride the road that links the cities of the sun:
It's the Tucumcari‑Albuquerque‑Flagstaff‑Phoenix Run.
Bad times came and bad times went and left us here alive;
Desert folks have histories of learning to survive.
The troubles took the cities, and the rich farmlands beside,
But they skipped our land as barren waste, so here we all abide.
We have no oil worth digging for, just wide jojoba plains.
The sun is like a hammer here, and twice a year it rains.
But we know where the waters hide, and where the stock can feed
So we survived and prospered while the old world died of greed.
The pack trains and the wagons bring the goods down to the road.
We dicker over prices, then we convoy up and load.
Now, some of us like steam wheels, and some drive alcohol,
But when it comes to weaponry, we've no arguments at all.
We drive out of the city, and the desert floor unrolls.
We meet the road repair crew, and we pay them out their tolls.
We swap the news and gossip through the CB on our way,
And that's the only taxes that we're ever gonna pay.
Bless the cool of nighttime, though it makes the driving slow,
The heatscopes warn of trouble long before the gangs can show.
A couple rounds of rockets makes the bandits go away,
And that's the last of trouble till the coming of the day.
The sun comes up in banners and the heat comes down like lead.
Our heatscopes now are useless, and there's trouble up ahead...
Some gang has set a roadtrap; do we fight or do we pay?
Hell, fire the big recoilless ‑‑ we ain't payin' tax today!
We come into Albuquerque with our armor full of holes.
But we brought all our cargo safe, and the market street unrolls.
We'll take our pay in car repairs, more ammo, and more shells,
For the next stretch goes to Flagstaff, and that's a dozen hells!
So now we've got a passenger‑‑some kind of preacher man.
Who sneers at our crude violence, and boasts about his plan
To bring back laws and government, and all that whole shebang.
Oh, put him on the tail‑gun quick; here comes another gang!
We stagger into Flagstaff late, wounded, scarred, and racked.
We've fought three gangs since morning, but our cargo's still intact.
Our passenger is leaving now; I guess he's realized
That freedom's wild and wooly; we don't want it civilized.
So pour the drinks, you merchants, for the heroes of the road.
We wouldn't swap our rolling lives for all the goods we've towed.
So patch our wounds and armor, and make our ammo true....
For the next stretch goes to Phoenix, and that's a mother, too
If there's one name that's practically synonymous with filk (Science Fiction folk music), it's Leslie Fish. Leslie has
written literally hundreds of songs covering almost every subject, from the space program ("Hope Eyrie"), to Star Trek ("Banned From Argo") to urban life, history, and space fantasy ("Carmen Miranda's Ghost")....more
Lush, moody folk-derived music sure to appeal to metal fans, the latest from Wolcensmen is awash in gorgeous keys & mournful melodies. Bandcamp New & Notable May 2, 2020