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Cannonball Statman
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Cannonball Becomes the One Armed Man
(Speaking of things falling off and growing back, um, this song's called Cannonball Becomes the One Armed Man.
It's about that time my left arm got amputated. It grew back. Obviously.)
My friend got drunk at a poetry reading. We went down to Union Square.
We were hungry like a New York City band, and I cut off my hand.
It grew back. My hands are like that.
Yeah, sometimes, my hands grow back.
The world was small. The size of a house.
But the world was always out to get us.
You're probably just a pathological liar, and I don't trust that type.
You're just another clinically proven formula to drive me insane.
Someone in the mud tonight stole half of my heart.
And I sold my art.
Recently, my tendons have been severing themselves,
and I once was lost. Now I'm found.
Recently, the surgeons amputated my left arm,
and the one on the right is as good as new.
Dancing in the woods last night,
we saw a giant bat.
I screamed, 'what is that?!'
So make some fucking noise. You've only got a few more years.
Everything you do will outlive you.
So make some fucking noise. I know you can do it.
I'm the one armed man. Even I can.
Don't think you're safe!
Don't think you're safe! I want everyone to be obese,
except for me, 'cause I can't do that to myself.
Don't think you're safe.
Don't think you're safe! I want everyone to be obese,
so I can feed them to the parasite living in the shadow of the door,
to the room where I was handcuffed, beaten, and
taken away, by a group of rogue federal agents.
Almost killed me completely.
Thanks to the dissociative fugue state that I'm in,
and a lack of sleep and hydration,
I am here, with my guitar, singing to you.
(2, 3, 4!)
Hey, I'm the one armed man. I can walk, but I can't talk.
This will be your last day in the mud. Tonight, I'm taking you away.
(10, 5, 7!)
Hey, I'm the one armed man. I can walk, but I can't talk.
This will be your last day in the mud. Tonight, I'm taking you away.
(5, 5!)
Hey, I'm the one armed man. I can walk, but I can't talk.
This will be your last day in the mud. Tonight, I'm taking you away.
(Random number!)
Hey, I'm the one armed man. I can walk, but I can't talk.
This will be your last day in the mud. Tonight, I'm taking you away.
(2, 3, 4!)
Hey, I'm the one armed man. I can walk, but I can't talk.
This will be your last day in the mud. Tonight, I'm taking you away.
(2, 3, 4!)
Hey, I'm the one armed man. I can walk, but I can't talk.
This will be your last day in the mud. Tonight, I'm taking you away.
(10, 5, 7!)
Hey, I'm the one armed man. I can walk, but I can't talk.
This will be your last day in the mud. Tonight, I'm taking you away.
(Happy birthday, Interstate! 1, 2, 3, 10!)
Hey, I'm the one armed man. I can walk, but I can't talk.
This will be your last day in the mud. Tonight, I'm taking you away.
(10, 5, 4!)
Hey, I'm the one armed man. I can walk, but I can't talk.
This will be your last day in the mud. Tonight, I'm taking you away.
(Has anyone ever lost an arm before? Wait, hold on a sec.
Oh, cool! That drink was empty.
So, if you've ever lost an arm before, what did it feel like, when you lost that thing?)
(Ben Krieger - I got it, I got it. Keep going, keep playing, keep playing.)
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(OK, cool.)
(Ben Krieger - Keep playing, keep playing.)
(Oh, yeah, thanks Ben! Ben Krieger on sound board!)
(So, has anyone ever lost an arm before, and would like to live to tell the tale,
and would like to tell the tale into the mic? Or to the crowd, or something like that?
Joe, do you want to tell the story?
Joe Crow Ryan, everybody!)
(Joe Crow Ryan - I'm minding my own business. Living my life. I have a platform bed in Brooklyn.
I'm in my bed, and I say, gee, my arm hurts. And I move it around.
And this goes on, and I'm sleeping, so I don't really pay attention, but then I realize,
you know, my arm has hurt for about three hours, and I haven't really gotten any sleep,
and I said, you know what? It really hurts a lot, this is my left arm.
So I say to myself, x number of years, smoker, butter. Nothing wrong with butter. I'm Irish, it's cool.
But that was when it came to my mind, and not so much heart attack, I'm thinking,
I think I'm having a stroke, like J.R. Richard. The great pitcher, J.R. Richard.
Six foot seven. And he was a lefty, with Houston. Led the league in strike-outs, four or five years in a row.
And he goes 'it just doesn't feel right. Don't feel right.'
And they said, 'Ah. Walk it off.'
And J.R. Richard pitched, and he said to him,
'Dare I say, don't make excuses.'
And he said, 'It just doesn't feel right!'
J.R. Richard pitched again. And he had a stroke. He shot a clot. He survived.
He tried to come back to baseball, and didn't.
So here am I, in Bed-Stuy. I made a mistake, I went to Woodhull Hospital.
I had to do a ceremony to, uh, get rid of that part, but the upshot was, it was a Radiculopathy!
Of course, when the doctor said, 'you have a Radiculopathy', what was the first thing I thought of?
What a cool word! Radiculopathy! From the radix - Latin, root. Iculopathy, something's wrong with it.
Speaking of a nerve! And I lost my arm for a little while!
I had to just, go like this a lot. Take Vicodin. My friends at the bar in Bed-Stuy checked in for me, because a little bottle of Vicodin was so expensive.
And so I was able to do that, and I was able to rest. And I eventually recovered, and have grown a fine head of hair.
And the arm works. And I have the arm back. The moral of this story is, if you ever lose your arm, don't look for it at Woodhull Hospital.)
(That was Joe Crow Ryan, everybody!
So now, what's about to happen, is something pretty crazy.
You're all about to lose your arms, for a very short amount of time. That is, seven milliseconds or less.
And you have to scream at the top of your lungs, at the count of three, which is a very specific number.
It's not two and a half, it's not three and a half, it's not four and a half, it's three.
When I shout the number three, you're gonna scream at the top of your lungs for the rest of the song.
If you do that successfully, then your arms…well, you won't really feel a thing.
If your arms do fall off, I'm not paying your medical bills, unfortunately.)
(Fan - I have the right to bear arms!)
(Yeah, you do! As do we all. If you do lose your arms, tonight, then I'm not paying your medical bills, but I will send you a nice letter, and visit you in the hospital.)
(Fan - Bring alcohol!)
(I will.)
(Fan - Bring Vicodin.)
(Fan - And weed!)
(Yeah. You're probably not gonna lose your arms tonight. They will grow back. On the count of three, you have to scream at the top of your lungs, for the rest of the song.)
(Interstate Johnson - Are you the one armed man?)
(I am.)
(Interstate Johnson - I thought you were the one armed man.)
(I am the one armed man, and my arms grew back, so there's hope for all of y'all.
There's hope for all of y'all, eh?
So that's the number three. And you're gonna scream at the top of your lungs.
If you don't have lungs, you can use Stephen Hawking, your iLungs, your diaphragm, your voice, or Siri, I guess.)
(Fan - My gills.)
(Your gills. Arf, arf! If you're a dog, you can do that.)
(Joe Crow Ryan - B-kawk! B-kawk!)
(If you're a bird, you can do what Joe just did.)
(Ben Krieger - Hey, I'm the one armed man.)
(And?)
(Ben Krieger - I'm Stephen Hawking.)
(Oh, yeah. Ben can take care of you, I believe. He seems to be good at that.
So is everybody ready?
That's the number three, which is a very specific number.)
(One! Zero! A hundred! A thousand! Three!)
Ahh!
(Thanks, everyone!)
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