Spit From the Sky
©1975, 2003 Andrew Calhoun, recorded on Walk Me to the War.
I wrote this in '73, actually, as a high school sophomore reflecting on his junior high experience. I was short, slight, and a hippie, whose voice hadn't changed, and people couldn't tell if I was a boy or a girl. I remember being asked about my gender a couple of times. It really seemed to bother some people. Maybe they wanted to date me.
Like spit from the sky comes your poison rain
And it tickles my body like baby shame
And it crawls up my spine and into my brain
It's enough to drive a worm insane
Making fun of the way I play
The things I say
The way I walk, the way I talk
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna go home
Leave me, leave me, leave me alone
Well he's a retard, he's a jag
He doesn't pledge allegiance to the flag
That kid really is a drag
Probably a fag
Making fun of the way I play
The things I say
The way I walk, the way I talk
My scraggly hair, the clothes I wear
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna go home
Leave me, leave me, leave me alone
Well, the kid's got a problem, I suppose
I saw him the other day a-pickin' his nose
He wears forty-year-old clothes
And all he eats for lunch is oreos
Making fun of the way I play
The things I say
The way I walk, the way I talk
My scraggly hair, the clothes I wear
The way I laugh, my fat ass and I don't run fast
Yeah, you mock the way I look
My first name, my middle name, my last name
The way I breathe, the way I sneeze, the way I smell
You even got me making fun of myself
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna go home
Leave me, leave me, leave me alone