[Sample: wind, boots on ash, "Mail call!" - three knocks on steel - a song leaking up through the hatch - then the record is seized] [Collage: a damaged 1950s rockabilly 45 chopped apart - twang guitar sliced into stabs over a stomping dusty breakbeat, slap-back vocal stutters, upright bass slaps looping, boot-steps and geiger clicks as percussion, needle skips] [Verse 1 - young-old storyteller through slap-back echo, wistful and quick] I was fourteen with a Schwinn and a canvas sack Tossing Sunday papers from the railroad track I knew every porch light, every dog by name Every screen door slamming was a nickel's worth of fame And the radio was singing something 'bout a girl And I pedaled and I whistled at the top of the world [The untouched record breaks through - full rockabilly rave-up, wild and joyful, slap-back and twang] Walk on, walk on, wanderer The mail don't stop for the end of the world Walk on, walk on, wanderer From a hole in Kansas to an Abilene girl Somebody's gotta carry the words around For everybody living underground [Collage seizes it: "walk on" stuttered - walk-walk-walk on - twang reversed, geiger clicks, dead air, the train-beat slams back] [Verse 2 - darker, the edit twitching between lines] I was three streets in when the sirens moaned Fifty papers folded, never got thrown Read the headline later in the fallout gray PEACE TALKS PROMISING — [spoken]anyway I left the Schwinn where the schoolyard was I guess I left the kid there too, because [The record breaks through - chorus, bigger, handclaps] Walk on, walk on, wanderer The mail don't stop for the end of the world Walk on, walk on, wanderer From a hole in Kansas to an Abilene girl Somebody's gotta carry the words around For everybody living underground [Verse 3 - swinging again, wonder creeping in] Now I walk the route my bicycle knew Boots on the ash where the blacktop blew I knock on hatches, sixty feet of steel And the ground sings back like a spinning reel There's a preacher hollering glory through a rusty vent And a robot singing supper down on Homestead Ten Some nights the dirt hums doo-wop, low and sweet The whole world's still singing, sixty feet beneath [Everything cuts to boots, wind, geiger clicks - spoken] [Spoken sample - half-smiling] Used to ride this whole route on a bicycle... if you can believe that. [Spoken sample - quiet, like a creed] Ain't much news anymore. But there's still mail. Long as I'm walking... there's still mail. [Final chorus - the record and the collage trade bars, double-time, joyful and broken, whooping] Walk on, walk on, wanderer The mail don't stop for the end of the world Walk on, walk on, wanderer From a hole in Kansas to an Abilene girl Somebody's gotta carry the words around For everybody living underground Walk on! (walk on) Walk on! (walk on) [Outro - the band cuts dead; boots keep the beat alone with geiger clicks, fading into wind] [Sample: a bicycle bell, far away, rings twice]
