Too Late to Run

Tell Me Where it Hurts

oh, oh, ooh, ooh
tell me tell me where it hurts.
is it the brain,
is it the heart,
is it that you’ve got to fart?

oh, oh, oh, oh,
tell me,
tell me where to kiss it,
tell me in case i might miss it.

if there’s a cloud in the sky tonight,
i hope you will see me in the dim moonlight

if it’s just after midnight and you see the sun,
forget about take cover, it’s too late to run.

run, run, run, run,
too late to run, run run.

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Low-Rent Ghost Chanteuse

[Verse 1]
I’m just a low-rent ghost chanteuse
Crooning between the clangs and the juice
Of lunch trays crashing, lights that blink,
Serving up blues in cafeteria pink.

[Verse 2]
My lipstick’s smeared, my heels don’t match,
They found my heart near the pudding patch.
I haunt this linoleum day and night,
Under flickering bulbs and no delight.

[Chorus]
Oh sing me sweet, beneath the steam,
Of mystery meat and yesterday’s dream.
I gave up glam for gravy boats,
Now all I’ve got are cafeteria notes.

[Bridge – whispered]
Jell-O shakes…
Souls break…
Coffee’s cold…
But I still ache…

[Outro – soft, echoey]
So tip your tray, and don’t forget,
The song you heard — she’s not done yet…

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TACO Tariff Tango

[Verse 1]
He stepped on stage in a custom suit,
Declared a war on foreign fruit.
Said, “Tacos steal American jobs!”
Then tango’d backward when the market sobs.

[Chorus]
It’s the Taco Tariff Tango — bluff, retreat, and spin,
He starts a fire, then runs from the din.
Tweets a threat, then calls it fake,
Chickens out when stocks start to shake.
It’s a dance of doom with a smirking shrug —
And the poor burrito gets swept on the rug.

[Verse 2]
He slapped a tax on salsa jars,
Then blamed it all on hybrid cars.
Said, “It’s strength!” while the Dow went pale,
Then whispered, “Maybe I’ll delay the scale…”

[Chorus]
It’s the Taco Tariff Tango — trade war on a string,
He sings “America First!” while doing nothing.
Starts a fight, then spins a waltz,
Says, “It’s strategy!” but it’s just defaults.
T-A-C-O, that’s the code —
Trump Always Chickens Out when the pressure explodes.

[Bridge]
Diplomats duck, farmers scream,
The markets wake up from the American dream.
He twirls in circles, tariffs in hand —
Then signs a deal no one understands.

[Verse 3]
Now guacamole’s twenty a scoop,
And Wall Street’s stuck in a taco loop.
He blames the cheese, he blames the corn,
But we’ve seen this dance since he was born.

[Final Chorus]
It’s the Taco Tariff Tango — shake your pesos loose,
It’s all flash, no sauce, just political abuse.
He bluffs and stalls, then hides the bill,
And the only thing rising is the grilling skill.
So pass the beans and duck the spin —
This tango’s rigged, and the salsa’s thin.

[Outro]
He dips, he dodges, he spins and shouts —
But when it gets real…
Grok taps out.

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Sample Track from the Forgotten Village — just a small sample only — the full program is available by special orders at zoom meetings, not available at our audio outlets at this time, although that may change. Great for movements and interpretive modern ballet.

**🎻Suite:*The Forgotten Village***

(Eight Slavonic Dances by E.J. Gold)

Long ago, beyond the reach of maps and memory, there was a village that appeared only in the mist — a place of ritual, rebellion, love, loss, and laughter. Some say it still dances just beneath the surface of our waking world. This ballet is a reconstruction of the village’s final day, told through movement, light, and the ghost of folk melody.

1. Dance of the Weather Witches
The curtain rises on a crossroads at dawn. Cloaked figures swirl and sweep, stirring wind and thunder with their skirts and staffs. The witches are not evil — they are elemental, balancing sky and soil. They summon the day and spin fate like wool.

2. Midnight Wedding at the Moss Chapel
Under moonlight, two lovers flee to the ancient grove, where the moss-draped spirits of the forest serve as silent witnesses. Their vows are whispered, and the veil between worlds briefly lifts — the dead bless the living.

3. The Turnip Rebellion
Morning comes. The villagers rise up against the corrupt mayor and his tax men. What begins as a muttering storm of feet becomes a chaotic dance of overturned carts and swinging scythes. Turnips fly. So does dignity.

4. Lament of the Clockmaker’s Daughter
In the aftermath, the clockmaker’s daughter stands alone amid broken gears and silent chimes. She dances through memories of her vanished lover — time falters, loops, and finally… stops.

5. Festival of the Nine Lanterns
Night falls, and the village remembers joy. Children in masks, elders in ribbons, lanterns in every hand. The festival begins — not despite grief, but because of it. The dance turns wild, radiant, half-drunk on the flickering firelight.

6. Hearth Blessing (For the Returning Dead)
The music quiets. Candles are lit in every home. The villagers kneel, calling out names in the smoke. The ancestors return, not as phantoms, but as warmth. Dancers swirl as flames, drifting through memory and marrow.

7. Baba Yaga’s Shoe Repair
Just before dawn, the strange old witch appears. Her hut scuttles in on chicken legs. She offers new shoes — but at a price. The villagers dance uncertainly in oversized boots and clownish steps, caught between comedy and dread.

8. The Last Dance Before the Thaw
Snow begins to melt. The village gathers one last time. The dance is light-footed, hopeful, tinged with sadness. Something is ending. Something else is beginning. The final gesture is not a bow, but an open hand.

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Well, here’s our Bardo bus! Climb aboard and let’s go for our daily video tour!

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