Helena Bucket

Written in Cora, Wyoming, August - December, 1982. Words by John Perry Barlow, music by Bob Weir. Copyright Ice Nine Publishing.


Well I was drinking last night with a biker
And I showed him a picture of you
I said, "Pal, get to know her. You'll like her,"
Seemed like the least I could do.

'Cause when he's driving his chopper
Up and down your carpeted halls
You will think me by contrast quite proper
Never mind how I stumble and fall.
Never mind how I stumble and fall.

You imagine me sipping champagne from your boot
For a taste of your elegant pride
I may be going to hell in a bucket, babe,
But at least I'm enjoying the ride.
At least I'm enjoying the ride.
At least I'm enjoying the ride.

Now miss sweet little soft core pretender
Somehow baby got hard as it gets
With her black leather chrome spiked suspenders,
Her chair and her whip and her pets.

Well we all know you're the reincarnation
Of the ravenous Catherine the Great.
And we all know you love your ovations
For the Z-rated scenes you create.
For the Z-rated scenes you create.

You analayze me, pretend to despise me,
You laugh when I stumble and fall.
There may come a day when I dance on your grave,
If unable to dance I will crawl across it,
Unable to dance, I'll still crawl.

You must really consider the circus
'Cause it just might be your kind of zoo
I can't think of a place that's more perfect
For a person as perfect as you.

And it's not like I'm leaving you lonely
'Cause I wouldn't know where to begin
But I know that you'll think of me only
When the snakes come marching in.
When the snakes come marching in.