Category Archives: Lyrics

Our Turn

At wee early hour on the hills by my home

I’d knock on your door, heart a burning

To dance there with you

And the golden morning dew,

Giving thanks that the world keeps a turning.

When sun finally breaks, gold and heavy that morn

And we stride proud below sky a burning

I’ll feel like a king

With the first bud of the Spring

And give thanks that the world keeps a turning.

The sun at it’s apex, a blanket beneath,

And two lovers for picnic are yearning.

Her hair smooth as silk

They drink honey and the milk

In the garden of Earth, still a turning.

As years turn to lifetimes and bodies to dust

The couple does not cease their learning.

They lie, cold and still

And the two become the hill,

Still part of the world ever turning.

Remember the sunshine. Remember the lifetime.

Remember the sweet butter churning.

Remember the dawn

For someday the Earth will yawn

And together we’ll rest from the turning.

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One More Try (Guess Who Went To A Bluegrass Show Tonight?)

I was raised out in the country

A couple miles past “out in the sticks”

And I’ve got that country talent

For meetin’ just the most unfaithful chicks;

The Jezebels and the Delilahs,

The ones who’ll love you ‘til the dawn

But when I’m done cookin’ ‘em breakfast

It’s an empty bed, and oh! My wallet’s gone!

Woe is me! Woe is I! Woah, I think I caught her eye…

What’s the harm in making one more try?

Well I’ve tried bein’ a nice guy,

Bein’ bad, and bein’ cool,

But the role I’m best at playin’

Has gotta be the damned romantic fool.

Well I keep a few reminders

Of them in my rogue’s gallery.

If I’d a dollar for each trinket

I could pay a politician’s salary.

Woe is me! Woe is I! Woke up, so I didn’t die.

What’s the harm in making one more try?

Well they’ve got these handy programs

Where women on the worldwide web‘ll

Write about how they love laughter,

Tasty food, travel, hiking, and a rebel.

Seems a shame they’d waste their effort

Fielding mail from some desperate guy

When here I am, arms and heart open

And when it ends she’ll never cry.

Woe is me! Woe is I! Woman please just hit “reply.”

What’s the harm in making one more try?

Sure, when all is done and finished

Her ego’s big and mine’s diminished,

But I keep making one more try…

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A Halfass Ballad

Come all ye round and sit ye down

And hear me lonesome tune

About a man who dreamed to show

The whole wide world the moon.

He dreamt of walking round in space

And that breathtaking view

And yet alas, a dream of NASA

Never could come true.

For this here lad of whom we sing

Was born without a feature

Incurable by brilliant minds

Or the nation’s finest teacher.

The man, who’s name we shall not say

For fear what he might do

Was born with only one buttock…

Just half the normal two!

Now don’t ye mock the man who had

That single wondrous cheek,

The sight of which could shush a bitch

And make her knees grow weak.

Oh yes, the ladies stopped and stared

And many more went mute

When they’d walk by the halfass guy

And his one glorious glute.

Alas, with but a half a butt

The fellow couldn’t run,

And so he’d sit and tan a bit

In rain or sleet or sun,

Leaving all a full display

The privilege of his birth:

And in the night the moon so bright

Shone on the moon of Earth.

Now in the water by the beach

Whereon our hero tanned

There lived a mermaid of the sea

With hair like golden sand

Who also wore no clothes to hide

Her modesty from view,

And soon she fell in love, for she

Had just one buttock too.

She sang a song of ocean life:

How living in the sea

Was not unlike the moon in that

It lacked most gravity.

She beckoned him to join her in

A land both wet and wild

To share a life of happiness

With many a one-cheek child.

Our hero was quite skeptical,

For of the girls he knew.

Could a lass with half an ass surpass

A lass whose ass had two?

And more important in his mind

Was if he could adjust

To a woman who, as all could view,

Had also but one bust?

Yet as she sang, way up and down

Did heave that single breast

And with such grace his dream of space

Was soon but second best.

And so they left the land alone,

No longer to breath air.

And thus one perfect buttock was

Half of a perfect pair.

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A Most Violet Shanty (Not A Typo)

Legend says upon the sea

Beneath the skull and bones

A tiny man with whose skin is tan

With a beard of violet tones

Command a stalwart legion

Or pirates, hard as granite

Who seek to steal from those in teal,

Themselves in pomegranate.

There’s never been a pirate captain

So dreaded to be seen

As the hook’ed hand of the crooked man

Called Captain Aubergine…

Some once called him a dandy man

And some called him a fop,

And that soon lead to many a head

Who’s rollings’ are yet to stop.

And there he’ll stand with sword in hand

And beard the brightest plum

And calls the rat to ladies that

For booty he had come!

There’s never been a pirate captain

So dreaded to be seen

As the hook’ed hand of the crooked man

Called Captain Aubergine…

When on the seas, the frigates fled

When purple sails were seen

For not a sailor, cook, or whaler

Fights with Aubergine.

They knew beneath that gold fedora

A brutal brain belongs,

But none escape pillage and rape

Nor his K-Pop pirate songs!

There’s never been a pirate captain

So dreaded to be seen

As the hook’ed hand of the crooked man

Called Captain Aubergine…

And when the Violet Virgin docked

(As the captain’s ship was called)

The folks in port were naught but sport

For the pirates so ribald.

They stole the bread and beans and rice

And even the polenta,

For nothing stops the pirate fops

Bedecked in their magenta!

There’s never been a pirate captain

So dreaded to be seen

As the hook’ed hand of the crooked man

Called Captain Aubergine…

‘Til finally one fateful night

‘Neath a sunset, heliotrope

A treasure trove in vibrant mauve

With scalawags did elope

And Aubergine was satisfied

And sailed off, drinking wine

To somewhere worse, where grass is perse

And the sky’s amaranthine!

There’s never been a pirate captain

So dreaded to be seen

As the hook’ed hand of the crooked man

Called Captain Aubergine…

At least that’s how the tale’s told now

Of Captain Aubergine…

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Anyway

I haven’t been touched like that for a while,

Long enough to forget the taste of a smile,

‘Cause who needs love when you’re in denial anyway?

I couldn’t tell you about my best friend,

Haven’t written letters that I want to send.

What good are people when the world is ending anyway?

Even though I know I lived through the past

I can’t remember when I forgot time last.

Why can’t the years alone go by so fast anyway?

I haven’t been touched like that for a while,

Was living in a life marching single file

‘Cause who needs love when you’re in denial anyway?

Thanks for listening even when it’s tough.

A lot of people need to say this kind of stuff.

Now I feel and I hope that I’ve said enough.

Anyway…

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Approach Anxiety – Power Metal Version

My feelings unspoken

Are like chains unbroken:

Restraining. Containing

The beast locked within.

To have them be heard…

A heart turned to word…

Uncurtained, uncertain

Of where to begin.

I know I can’t fight

The coming of night.

I don’t know what’s right

When I hear you coming.

Who knows what I’ll say

When night turns to day.

I’ll continue this way

Into the land of numbing.

I look in your hazel eyes

Hoping this feeling dies

But the beast smells a feast

And my heart needs to roar.

Steel bars start to bend

And I cannot contend

So I do what feels true:

Let the beast break down the door.

I knew not to fight

The coming of night.

I did what felt right

When I heard you calling.

Who knows what I’ll say

When night turns to day.

I’ll continue this way

Though it feels like falling.

The cage opens wide,

Lets the monster outside.

The beast is released

And it pounces on you.

But claw scratches steel;

How can this be real?

Could it be, just like me,

There’s a beast inside you?

I welcome our fight

In the coming of night.

Can’t know that I’m right

But it’s worth the gamble.

Who knows what I’ll say

When night turns to day

But I no longer hide

For lack of preamble.

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The Barista Song

I’m not smiling ’cause I’m happy;

I’m smiling because I am cold,

And I must pay for heat and something to eat

Until I grow fatally old.

I’m not smiling ’cause I like you;

I’m smiling because I need gas,

So I turn up my lips to encourage more tips

And, if that fails, wiggle my ass.

My smile is not one of pleasure

And the tears that I hide have no joy

And I, every day, pray for a bump in my pay

As I serve you your mocha with soy.

I’m not smiling ’cause I want to.

I’m not laughing ’cause I’m amused.

I just try to look fun ’cause I’m broke, 21,

And the universe makes me confused.

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Brown-Eyed Girl [With Non-Violent Lyrics To Accommodate All Genders, Eye Colors, Geographic Locations, Ability Levels…]

Hey, where did we go
Days when the [weather happened]?
[Over] in the hollow
Playin’ a [mutually enjoyed] game.

Laughin’ and [a-movin’,] hey hey
[Via our unspecified motor abilities]
In the [typical morning environmental conditions] with
Our hearts a-[operating energetically’,] and you

My [human with eyes].
You’re [a strong, independent person with eyes].

And whatever happened
To Tuesday and so [relaxed]
Going down the [honored legacy repository location] with a
[Non gender-specific sibling audio device]?

[Present] in the [environment]! [self-expressin’]
Hidin’ behind a rainbow’s [vertical barrier]
Slippin’ and a-slidin’
All along the [local water feature] with you

My [individual with eyes].
You’re [a self-actualizing homo-sapien sapien with eyes].

Do you remember when
we used to [communicate]

Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te da
(just like that)

Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te da
La te da

So [challenging] to find my way

Now that I’m [pursuing self-defined success independently]
I [encountered] you just the other day
My, how you have [altered aspects of yourself without diminishing their quality]
Cast my memory back there, [authority figure]?

Sometimes I’m [very impressed] thinkin’ ’bout
[Consensual intimacy] in the green grass
Behind the [culture-neutral building] with you
My [specimin with eyes].
You’re [an entity possessing human shape platonically correlated with me, and you have eyes].

[Don’t be ashamed if you can’t, or choose not to ] remember when
we used to [extemporate]
Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te da ([existin’] in the [local foliage]!)
Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te da (bit by, bit by, bit by, bit by, bit
by, bit)
Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te da (sha la la la la, la la la la, la te
da, la te da, la te da, da da da)
Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te da…

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A Brief History of the Gold Rush

Back in the wee days of US of A

Some guys went a digging and one shouted “Hey!”

“I found me some gold!” “Oy, I found some too!”

Then guess what everyone wanted to do?

And so people came from all over the planet

To dig through the dirt and, with their eyes, scan it

For speckles and nuggets and loose bits of gold,

And some were successful, or so I’ve been told.

Now as the prospectors from far and near both

Were digging up gold, a woman did quoth:

“The men are all leaving to get rich or die,

“And thus we will join them because… you know why.”

And so California became quite the haven

For men who, for gold in the rivers, were slavin’.

Most folks were strike-outers, but some lucky strike-biggers

Wed the first Frisco lasses, the real gold-diggers.

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Hallelujah

There lived a man who wished to die,

With lips malformed so when he’d sigh

The anguish that emerged was like

The first sunrise of Spring.

The humans that he’d never known

Had from all places to him flown

With no intent to comfort him

But just to hear him sing.

The singer sang, the cryer cried

To oceans deep and mountains wide

And every human listener thought

The singer read their mind.

The speaker spoke, the moaner moaned.

His sorrows said, his hopes intoned

Leaving unspoken just enough,

Ensuring seekers find.

He screamed at them in loneliness:

A girl in far too short a dress

Confused by why she couldn’t find

A man who’d stay ’til morning

And, to the men who eyed her, said

To see her heart before her bed

But all they heard were pretty words

And not the singer’s warning.

He sang to those who owned the gold,

The young who’d never gotten old,

The old who’d never been a child,

To those without a penny.

His sharing was his means to cope.

His medicine was spreading hope

Perhaps to you, the listening few

Among the mindless many.

The living listened as he cried,

He sang also to those who died,

A song for all who made mistakes

And sought to change their fate.

Some say that Satan turned to hear

And even shed a single tear.

Although the angel fell from grace

His wings might still bear weight.

No one asked the singer’s name.

To his wake no listeners came

For clouds above were pearly white

And sky above was blue.

Thus did the singer move along.

No longer needed was his song.

The singer lives forever

Even though his wish came true.

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