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Lyrics to Tautologic's original songs

All titles are protected by copyrights held by their authors, indicated under the titles.  

90 on 90

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

It seemed a good idea to share your gin and juice
But by the time that we'd arrived, I'd gotten far too loose
We split the party 'cause those girls just weren't your scene
You fessed up to your intentions somewhere in-between

90 on 90
3 hours away from home
90 on 90
You can't get there by phone

I lasted just one dance, but I knew I couldn't win
So I stumbled to the curb to watch the full moon spin
Blew chunks out the window like a bacchanalic comet
Half-lucid on the couch, the dog licked up the vomit

90 on 90
3 hours away from home
90 on 90
You can't get there by phone

90 on 90
3 hours away from home
90 on 90
The blame is all my own
 

The Admiral

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

FBI - I should have known it all along
KGB - When everything starts going wrong
SDI - I know too much

UFOs - I know the truth behind the news
Ollie North - And now they're turning all the screws
Ollie Stone - But I won't give up

CIA - I can't be sure that I'm alone
Panama - My disconnected telephone
Pinochet - They bugged my place

JFK - This information must be free
Zapruder film - They haven't heard the last of me
Doctored tape - Remember my face

Frontal lobes - And now I'm going underground
Crop circles - Some place I know I won't be found
Anal probes - I'll disappear

Iran-Iraq - Someday the truth comes out
Mujahedin - Just hold onto your doubt
Soviet block - And trust your fear

 

All I Have Is You

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

You're always making life difficult
Much harder than it needs to be
You tell me that you're tired of fighting,
But you're unwilling to let things be.
Now I'm calling for a cease-fire,
So I can see what's left.
Is there a reason we're still together
I mean, besides amazing sex?

In all your endless verbiage,
You've said one thing that is true
You're so lucky to have me,
But all I have is you.

You start these pointless arguments
Even when we both agree
You always have to voice dissent
Like it's your responsibility.
So I'm begging you to sit down
And put things in their place
Don't go chopping off your nose
While I'm trying to save your face.

In all your endless verbiage,
You've said one thing that is true
You're so lucky to have me,
But all I have is you.

And though it seems that I am glad
That you're not in my hair
I sometimes wish I'd turn in bed
And find you lying there
Like sodium in oxygen,
We instantly combust
You're the element I need to live,
My love, my hate, my lust.

So maybe you will figure out
Just what I'm trying to say
But by that time, I'll be long gone
Another man, another day.
Or maybe you will struggle
And tell it to your shrink
He'll give you drugs to kill the pain
So you won't really have to think.

And as your world is shrinking,
And your notes are turning blue
You'll wish that you still had me,
When all I had was you.

 

Another Christmas

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Merry Christmas
Happy New Year's

Another Christmas....
I'm just glad we're all here.
Have a beer.
Let's toast to your health and good cheer for next year,
And for those who aren't here,
Whose absence is felt dear.
We hope, wherever they are,
They find warmth in some loving arms.

Merry Christmas
Happy New Year's

Another New Year's....
Couldn't come soon enough,
With all the stuff that went wrong this past year.
I've had enough, but we stayed tough.
And I hope we'll remember come next year - December,
How life changed for the best,
And our fears were all laid to rest.

Merry Christmas
Happy New Year's

 

The Ballad of St. James

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Come all ye sinners, on down to Saint James
He'll grant absolution and dull all your pains
With full glass in hand and a room full of friends
Packed wall to wall
Until the last call
Brings this night's service to end.

The bartender's at work on his masters
On my right might be this year's Nobel
Who talks to a plumber
On a hot night in summer
At Jimmy's you never can tell.

Some folks could not understand her
They're hung up on style and decor
The selection of beers
And stylish veneers
To me the people mean more.

Come all ye sinners, on down to Saint James
He'll pour Absolut in a cigarette haze
Time spent with locals is never in vain
You can talk out your ass
You can listen to jazz
And drink 'til the taps are all drained.

They tried to take away our tavern
The place where the neighbors all meet
Where the black and the white
Converse and don't fight
I wish the whole town was this sweet.

Old Jimmy bought her as a young man
And gave her his life and his heart
Flipping burgers and fries
Till the day that he died
And the city tried to tear her apart.

Come all ye sinners, on down to Saint James
He'll grant absolution and dull all your pains
With full glass in hand and a room full of friends
Packed wall to wall
Until the last call
Brings this night's service to end.

I wasn't there when she closed
The bar was too packed to get in
And I was sad to hear it
The law's letter, not spirit
Made her close and that was a sin.

Come all ye sinners, on down to Saint James
He'll pour Absolut in a cigarette haze
Time spent with locals is never in vain
You can talk out your ass
You can listen to jazz
And drink 'til the taps are all drained.

Come all ye sinners, on down to Saint James
He'll grant absolution and dull all your pains
With full glass in hand and a room full of friends
Packed wall to wall
Until the last call
Brings this night's service to end.
 

The Best Day of Your Life

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

You could wake up to your favorite song
Right before they call your name
You just won the lottery
On the only number you've ever played.
But you're crying on the phone
Because she left you all alone
And every joy just seems so lame.

Everyone might smile and wave
As you walk your way to work
You could get that promised raise
The boss might admit that she's a jerk
Tells you that your future's bright
But somehow this just isn't right
Inside your heart where feelings lurk.

This could be the best day of your life
This could be the best day, but you don't care
This should be the best day of your life
This could be the best day, but she's not there.

Your mother makes your favorite meal
And feeds you all that you can eat
Your dad might offer you his chair
Tell you to sit and rest your feet
But the topic drifts to her
The evening all becomes a blur
And your homecoming's in defeat.

This could be the best day of your life
This could be the best day, but you don't care
This should be the best day of your life
This could be the best day, but she's not there.

And the pillows are so soft
And you love those flannel sheets
You can still make out her smell
If you lie and inhale so deep
And you wish that you were dead
Because she isn't in your bed
You might as well wander the streets.

This could be the best day of your life
This could be the best day, but you don't care
This should be the best day of your life
This could be the best day, but she's not there.
 

Bobolina

words by Ethan Sellers
music by Ethan Sellers and Patrick Buzby

Zorba knew the island, knew it like his own right hand
Bobolina was more interested in entertaining foreign men
The village suspected what was happening
When music filled the night-time air
No one even dared to talk to her
They all pretended that they didn't care.

She dined with princes, generals, diplomats
Course after course, so well-refined and delicate
The banquet of life was laid before her.
She wanted nothing but dessert.
Gourmet chefs have little patience
For epicures who bat their eyes and flirt.

They built a giant summer palace
And visited on moonlit nights
They brought her rugs and exotic perfumes
And picture postcards of foreign sights,
Then they left and they forgot her
When the island saw the light.
She shut her doors and closed her windows
To shield her eyes from village spite.

She never was lonely as long as there were wars to fight.
The years rolled by quickly - sleeping days and party nights
They danced away the island evenings,
Sailed at dawn the following day.
She got the flavors she was seeking
From visitors who never thought to stay.

Business boomed, but nothing changed - only Zorba talked to her.
The village found that silence was the hum they most preferred.
Though none would openly condemn her,
She wasn't doing anybody harm.
She nonetheless was hated by the housewives
With husbands dazzled by her earthly charms.

She built herself a golden prison
To hide away 'til visiting nights.
They brought her jewels and useless baubles,
And kept her dazzled with delight.
Philandering princes promise nothing -
They want a mistress, not a wife.
She would ask them, "Could you stay longer?"
But this would only speed their flight.

The years passed, business left, leaving her shut up inside.
Princes, generals, diplomats stay home when there are no wars to fight.
She started living off her savings,
And pawned the gifts she didn't need.
Her mansion fell into disrepair.
Her garden yielded bitter crops of weeds.

As she got older, Bobolina's beauty began to fade.
She asked Zorba to spare her from the fate of which she was afraid.
Zorba pitied Bobolina,
No more the beauty he had known.
Pity doesn't make for lovers,
And Bobolina finally died alone.

She died inside her fallen palace.
The village descended like a blight.
They took her rugs, exotic perfumes,
Landscape paintings of foreign sights.
Now she's gone and they don't respect her -
The dead cannot defend their rights.
They came through doors, they came through windows
And stole her possessions out of spite.

Bobolina....

 

The Choirboy

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

I am the top of my class
Untouched on my bike, none as fast
My family won't know it
They surely don't show it
I go through the blow, it's a mess.
'cause I am the choirboy.

I did ten jobs in seven states
I hop on my bike, I escape
I make like a rabbit,
The cash feeds my habit,
I just got to have it again
'cause I am the choirboy

When will it end? I want it to end.
Why? Why can't you see, it's taking over me.
I want, I want you to catch me.
So you, you'll know it's not really me.

Long miles are yielding 'neath my feet
I take the back roads, hidden streets
No one can catch me,
The cops cannot match me,
A twenty grand snatch from the bank
'cause I am the choirboy

 

Church Barbecue

words and music by Pat Buzby (with inspiration from Ethan Sellers)

Church barbecue!
Church barbecue!

There may come a time when I will lose you
But that ain't something I wanna think about
Your friends say that I abuse you
But they don't know what they're talking about
At some point we may address this
But I got other things to do
I'm gonna meet you baby
At the church barbecue.

This ain't gonna be nothing about science
I wanna hit you like a truck
I got a very nice appliance
And a little bit of luck
At some point we may address this
But I got better things to do
I'm gonna meet you baby
At the church barbecue.

I hate to sit around (x4)
At the church barbecue!

They say I'm giving you diseases
Looks like I need a new excuse
I'm just a man who does what he pleases
It's a consequence of living loose
At some point we may address this
But I got better things to do
I'm gonna meet you baby
At the church barbecue.

 

Dogs

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

They move at night, they roam in packs
They wait until you turn your back
Their ears prick up when you can't hear
They're color-blind, but they smell fear

Neighborhood dogs are on the move
Neighborhood dogs got something to prove

They're sniffing butts, they crap in streets
They're humping legs, they're nipping feet
They roll in shit - they love the stink
They're watching for the weakest link

Neighborhood dogs are on the loose
They refuse to be bound by leash or noose

If those dogs should bite while I'm around,
I won't hesitate to put them down.

 

Downturn

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

I am the reigning captain of this industry
I traded you a hundred times
Before the turning of the century
I'm banking on your blind belief
In unlimited prosperity
Pawned options in a blackout
Oops, there went your security

Follow the money and catch it if you can
Regulators' eyes are slower than my hands
Follow the money - don't try to intervene
By the time that you catch on,
I've long since split the scene

So now you're out of work, but wasn't it a ride?
Inflated expectations that vanish with the tide
Maybe there are cycles, or maybe it's just a scam
As long as I get paid, who really gives a damn?

Follow the money and catch it if you can
Regulators' eyes are slower than my hands
Follow the money - don't try to intervene
By the time that you catch on,
I've long since split the scene

But damn it's hard,
When you're down to your last billion
How can I feel elite
When gameshow chumps can win a million
Now I drive my Beamer,
'Cause I had to sell the plane
This mingling with the common man
Could drive a guy insane

Follow the money and catch it if you can
Regulators' eyes are slower than my hands
Follow the money - don't try to intervene
By the time that you catch on,
I've long since split the scene

 

Everybody's Moving to LA

music and lyrics by Ethan Taylor Sellers

She's packing up her stuff
He's selling out the farm
They're part of a trend
That's got me so alarmed

Like lemmings on the march
For a cliff on the Pacific
They say that's where the action is
I find it soporific

Everybody's moving to LA
Even though I really wish they'd stay
They say that it will be okay
Live the dream at night, wait tables in the day

We give 'em our flakes
And our hotties, too
Our hapless hopeless dreamers
They're searching for a clue

They ship out the pap
With the glossy veneer
The scripts are all vapid
But the picture's crystal clear

Everybody's moving to LA
Even though I really wish they'd stay
They say that it will be okay
Live the dream at night, wait tables in the day

Everybody's moving to LA
Even though I really wish they'd stay
Sometimes I just feel so betrayed
But still I'll miss 'em anyway

 

Glasgow Smile

music and lyrics by Ethan Taylor Sellers

New York Yankee born one day in the US Irish embassy
Alex Morrill swore one day he'd get himself dual cit'zenry
He packed his bags to travel light and booked himself on Budget Air
He stayed awake the night before and fell asleep once in the air

He woke up several hours after the o'ernight passage was to land
He found himself at a customs desk without a passport in his hand
A red-faced man breathed down his neck, "Where are ye papers Yankee lad?"
"I lost them en route to Dublin, and ended up in Glasgow instead."

They let him out on recognizance to make the best of his holiday
He took a tour, he bought a kilt, he went to a pub to hear pipers play
The regulars were generous, but Alex Morril made one mistake
They brought him ale, they brought out haggis, but he dinna finish off his plate.

"Ya donna like ye haggis, lad? What kinda Scotsman d'ya think y'are?"
"Git outta Glasgow, ya Yankee twat, and to a fairy Shamrock bar!"
"Fine with me," young Alex sniffed, "I'm on my way to the emerald isle."
"Good luck, young lad, but before ye go, we wanna give ye a Glasgow smile."

 

Gospel Lady

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

I see folks on the Red Line
Reading Bible verse
In the South Side

Pamphlets and Watchtowers
Are pressed into my hands
For the long ride

Anesthetic for the ascetics,
Or the kingdom of Heaven
Here and now?

Rich man stuck in the needle's eye
Camels slip on through
Do you wonder how?

We're all praying for peace - what will we find,
When power, purse-strings, politics pervert the divine?
Light cast into the shadows of dark histories
Can rituals heal or only numb misery?

Outside my old apartment,
The Gospel Lady sang,
"Jesus saves."

The neighbors all dismiss her,
But something deep inside me
Wants that faith.

We're all praying for peace - what will we find,
When power, purse-strings, politics pervert the divine?
Light cast into the shadows of dark histories
Can rituals heal or only numb misery?

 

Grow Light

words by Ethan Taylor Sellers, music by Ethan Taylor Sellers and Patrick Lee Buzby

Mike can't wait for his folks to die
So he can spend his trust fund getting high
Grow light
Get a grow light and hydroponics
Grow weed so fast it's supersonic
Grow light

Pass the joint
Lost the point
You need a foglight to see through the smoke
Mellow guy
Trustafari
Laughing for hours after he forgot the joke

He's got your miracle, he's on the tour
It's fertilized with cow manure
Grow light
No need to worry - it's all organic
He needs the weed or else he's manic
Grow light

Pass the joint
Lost the point
You'd need a foglight to see through the smoke
Mellow guy
Trustafari
Laughing for hours after he forgot the joke

 

Hair of the Dog

by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Mouth like a wad of chewed-up cotton
Did things last night that are best forgotten
Slept with a girl I'd never consider
She fell asleep, I climbed out the window

Went back to the bar with a thirst for trouble
Ordered a shot and made it double
Licked off the salt, spit the lime in the face
Of an over-eager mall chick with a can of mace

Hair of the dog, name of the truck
Beat up on a brother who's down on his luck
The sign on my hand said I was past due
So I bellied on up and ordered a brew

She was tiny but her boyfriend was massive
I'd heard that with bears that you should remain passive
So I slumped at the bar, pretended I was dead
'Til I felt his hot breath on the back of my head

He tapped my shoulder, and I knew he wasn't the kind
Who would give a man the chance to finish drinking his stein
So I whirled around and let go with a chuckle
As I floored the big guy and bloodied my knuckles

Hair of the dog, name of the truck
Beat up on a brother who's down on his luck
The sign on my hand said I was past due
So I bellied on up and ordered another brew

The room was in shock and my brain was on fire
The voice of reason sobered up and told me to retire
So I climbed in the window and slid back into the bed
Of the woman whose presence I'd earlier fled

She rolled over and started to ask me where I had gone
So I kissed her to silence her questions til dawn
We made love with a passion I never had known
So from that night forward, I've called her bed home.

Hair of the dog, name of the truck
Beat up on a brother who's down on his luck
The sign on my hand said I was past due
So I bellied on up and ordered another brew.

 

High School Reunion

by Ethan Taylor Sellers

I got the invite the other day to my high school class reunion
Can't place a face to the sender's name and the timing seemed too soon
Ten years - has it been that long?
The pull of nostalgia ain't strong
'Cause I never felt that much at home amidst the kids at school
I found the cliques and politics both asinine and cruel
So I marched in my cap and my gown
Went to college and moved out of town

And I won't go to my high school reunion
There are few there that I'd want to see
The memories may fade but I like it that way
The future's where I want to be

My friends who went all filled me in on the schadenfreude news
The closet cases who came out, the rehab stints, and boozers
I don't really care who got fat
Or how many kids they begat

So I won't go to my high school reunion
There are few there that I'd want to see
The memories may fade but I like it that way
The future's where I want to be

 

The House Song

lyrics and music by Pat Buzby

The house was strange and slightly old
When nighttime came, it brought the cold
An atmosphere of thunderstorms and dust
A quiet place it was at first
Calm at best and dead at worst
But changes soon arrived, as changes must

I found myself among some friends
Who met there to pursue their ends
Anticipation sensed as I arrived
Not every effort brought success
But times were happy, more or less
Excitement fueled the passing of our lives

Eventually the house was sold
The owners found it getting old
And so this chapter fell into the past
And soon enough our paths diverged
And new directions soon emerged
But memories we fear to lose may last

 

How To Be A Cat

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

To be a cat,
You must learn to think on your feet,
Out on the street.
The greatest cats all died young,
Strung out on drugs,
Acting like thugs.
On their backs were their monkeys,
All strung out like junkies
Just falling apart
In the name of their art.
Don't be fooled that their suffering made them profound.

Talking to you is a chore,
Thoughts come to slow
Words just don't flow
Bright light at the end of a maze
Thoughts out of phase
Can't cut through this haze
Your mind now deceives you
Your friends don't believe you
You don't even grieve
You smoke up when they leave
You've convinced yourself there's nothing of value at all.

You thought you were cool
Had yourself fooled
Thought you'd been schooled
You've been round the block
Strung out on rock
Punching the clock
Now locked up indoors
Your jones on the floor
Can't play worth a shit
When you ain't had your hit
Is that what all your practice and study were for?

If I gave you the chance to get clean, would you go?
Though it would mean you must leave this world you know
You might as well go, you're barely here anyway.

 

Hype Dark

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Poor textural flop
Mock orchestral pop
Prefab marketeer
Fab meat parking here
Space rock techno project
Race stock peck no job wrecked.

Hype Dark in Hyde Park
Shy larks, sly sharks
Dabble on the glitz like a babble-on ditz.

Smug fun bugged unique
Metro unplugged retro chic
Major g-string label advance
Congeals a mating table dance
So purported alumni ties no support the album dies.

Hype Dark in Hyde Park
Tuneless pap clueless rap.

"You're lucky to have known us,
'Cause now we're big shot stars.
What's the use in paying dues
In crummy home-town bars?"

Hype Dark in Hyde Park
Shy larks, sly sharks
Dabble on the glitz.

UFO suture now
Tofu futures bow
Ashtar on the side command
Shatner rides again
Genre hop pretension
Con the shop distension.

Hype Dark in Hyde Park
Shy larks, sly sharks.
Dabble-on the glitz.

Hype Dark in Hyde Park
Tuneless pap clueless rap.

 

Indie Cred

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

I got the vinyl in the mail today!
I can't believe it's finally here
I sent away for it last year
Signed and numbered 45
I'm the hippest snob alive
I am one of the few
To track down all the clues
No one's heard of them but me
That's how I like my bands to be.

Put the plastic on the spinner
While I ate my Ramen dinner
Drinking milk from the carton
Wearing flannel and Doc Martens
I'm in the red
But you can't buy my indie cred
I am the foremost authority
On self-conscious obscurity.

I may or may not have been socially inept in high school
You made fun of my weight, now you'll regret it
Now I'll exclude you all so I can feel cool
So now you can, like whatever, just forget it.

Sold out of velour and corduroy!
I wish these trenders all were dead
Raised the price of thriftstore threads
Maybe I should finish school
Get a job just being cool
Smoke cigarettes, write for zines
About the hippest scenes
Just as long as I get paid
And someday maybe I'll get laid.

 

Jeep

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

I have an anger like a noose around my neck
The noose pulls tighter and it chokes the right words back
I try to love, but there's no love in this cold city
You give to your neighbors and they steal your dignity

Give it up
No matter what you say
Let it go
You can't make it go away
Give it up
There's nothing you can do
Let it go
The rage that gnaws at you

My friend can't go out at night for fear of losing life
She fended off her limp-dicked rapist with a pocket knife
My brother crossed the street late night to get home to his bed
A thumpin' jeep sped by, threw a bottle at his head

Give it up
No matter what you say
Let it go
You can't make it go away
Give it up
There's nothing you can do
Let it go
The rage that gnaws at you

I look outside my window, someone's pissing on the wall
These city alleys don't give us any privacy at all
My next-door neighbors blast hip-hop at all hours of the night
My daily morning wake-up call is a screaming domestic fight

Give it up
No matter what you say
Let it go
You can't make it go away
Give it up
There's nothing you can do
Let it go
The rage that gnaws at you

Next door shouters stay up all night - they don't seem to have a job
No one seemed to care when working folks upstairs got robbed
When walking down some south side streets, seems everyone's a con
Sometimes I think I'll move away, 'cause I really can't go on

 

Jim's Home Brew

lyrics and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Grow and malt the barley;
Soak and dry the seeds,
So the sprouts stop.
Flavor from the roasted barley,
Amylase, starch,
And your bitter hops.
You need to boil the mash to get your sugar free.
Smells like cereal when the kettle starts to steam.
Funnel, filter, sparge this multi-grain stew
Into a big pot of Jim's Home Brew.

Protein clumps and precipitates
When you boil the wort -
It's sterilized.
In forty minutes,
The alpha acids in the hops
Isomerize.
Pitch the yeast, seal it up, the wort will ferment.
Siphon, filter yeast cells from the beer to prevent
Spoilage, keg it carbonate - in a few days we'll be due
For our first glass of Jim's Home Brew.

Empty steins and stragglers
Lie all around
Our living room.
The keg is tapped -
Its tappers hope
It'll refill soon.
But the next keg won't come for another week,
And may not have the alchemy that its devotees seek.
Once concocted, now exhausted - what can a drinker do
But hold tight a half fortnight and dream of Jim's Home Brew.

 

Junk

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

I've been sorting through
A bunch of junk I don't need anymore
Suits that never fit me
Fits that never suited me
Don't know where I got them from,
I don't know what I kept them for
Today I'm going to pack them up
Tonight I'll kick 'em out the door.

Now the moths come out in fright,
They're fluttering blindly into the light
They'd been spreading like a blight
In the stuff I was stashing well out of sight
Now my old threads are full of holes,
Threadbare rags for foreign roles
My shirts are too short, my pants too tight
I think I'm gonna throw 'em all out tonight

'Cause it's just the memory
Of the things I was,
Or thought I should be
Junk's no use to me now.
They're just the memories
Of other paths and possibilities
The junk's no use to me now.

Pulling out the photographs
Of all my old girls - they're now long gone
Sometimes I used to look at them
I wonder what the hell went wrong
Maybe it was always my fault,
Or maybe it always just my fate
Gotta throw those pictures out,
Before it gets lonely, before it gets late.

 

The Lady Moves

music and lyrics by Ethan Sellers

The lady moves
The lady moves
You simply had to meet her
When she walked across the room
Little did you know this helpless
Creature brings your doom
You tried your best to stay calm
But you had something to prove
Your tap-dance turned to stumbles
When you saw the lady move.

The lady moves
The lady moves
She had you from hello
But then she said goodbye
She will not divulge
The secret meanings of her sighs
She'll let you trail behind her
Until your knees are sore
Your poems and panegyrics
Will simply leave her bored.

The lady moves
The lady moves
You hang on every word
And pine for just a smile
She saw past your deceptions
And she bested you at guile.
You've tried your best to be suave
And you'd like to think you're smooth
But all your best-rehearsed lines
Failed when you saw the lady move.

 

Lazy Sundays

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Sunday morning leans on the shades in my bedroom
And pushes its way in.
I've been in bed, spending half the day
Wishing last night would go away.
Totally spent with more bills to pay
Going back to work tomorrow.

So I slide on out of my well-worn blankets
And walk the cold wood floor
Showering away sloth's well-worn pungence
Splashing on soap's short-lived fragrance
Couldn't I feel worthwhile for just once?
Get up and do something.

I'm always becoming, never being
I always will be, never am
I want to be something, not just dreaming
Of lazy Sunday's idle plans.

Plans to buy a house, plans to buy a car
Plans don't get me far
Plans sit and nag me like a skipping record
A sun-warped tape and a broken ejector,
A teleprompter guilty lecture.
What will you do with your life?

Where are my wife and kids? Where's my lifelong job?
The check is in the mail.
Weeks go by and things don't change.
Former joys all seem so strange.
There's no "new me" found in exchange.
What's the point in going on?

I'm always becoming, never being
I always will be, never am
I want to be something, not just dreaming
Of lazy Sunday's idle plans.

Sunday evening drags like a prisoner to the chair,
But it's gone before he blinks.
Cleaned and straight for tomorrow's work day
Boring job for a yes-man's jerk pay
Dreaming of a time when I can say that
"It's been fun but I'm moving on."

Four loads of laundry, cleaning out the kitchen
It's no day of rest
Labors let me learn from all my failings
Lackluster efforts and futile flailings
Litter my past leaving promises trailing.
Crumbs for a guilty roach.

I'm always becoming, never being
I always will be, never am
I wanna be something, not just dreaming
Of lazy Sunday's idle plans.

 

Lizard Blues

by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Well I want to be a lizard baby
Lie on my warm flat rock
Well I want to be a lizard baby
Lie on my warm flat rock
Just sit there 'til the sun goes down
I don't need no alarm clock.

You know you want your lizard baby
'Cause you've seen my long forked tongue
You know you want your lizard baby
'Cause you've seen my long forked tongue
Lizards ain't got no delicate palate
'Cause flies swarm round the dung.

Well I want to be your lizard baby
My blood as cold as ice
Well I want to be your lizard baby
My blood as cold as ice
I'll absorb the heat from your warm body
Now wouldn't that be nice?

You see that I'm your lizard baby
With eyes that turn all 'round
You see that I'm your lizard baby
With eyes that turn all 'round
'Cause if you try to run from me
Girl, you know that you'll be found.

 

Loud Shoes

words and music by Ethan Sellers

Your skirt's too short, your heels too high
The perverts drool, you don't wonder why
You blow a kiss and walk away
To tease the "proles" another day

Got your loud shoes and your silent hat
Sideways stripes make you look fat
Your boyfriends are accessorized
To draw the focus up to your eyes

You called your tailor an expensive hack
Now your fashion sense is off the rack
He dared to suggest it's not your clothes
That fill your heart and mind with woe

Searching through the vintage bins
A hipper shell to dwell within
Combing scouring every bargain shelf
You're the whole parade all by yourself

Your landlord's banging at the door
It doesn't wash to say you're poor
He's seen your clothes when you go dancing
Now your budget needs refinancing

Your threads are now reduced to rags
You're out of dough, it's such a drag
You call your dad to bail you out
He declines - you sit and pout

 

Love Bus

lyrics by Ethan Taylor Sellers
music by Ethan Sellers, Daniel Veidlinger, and Patrick Buzby

Walk past the white hippie bus in front of Mr. G's Co-Op
Mirrors on the side, shining in the sun, with a crown of swans on top
It's a mighty impressive vehicle, the coolest auto there
Though I never have tried that far-out ride, I wonder how can it compare
to the Love Bus.

Love, love, get on the love bus. (4 times)

Was on my way to a show one day when I ran into Aaron Henkin.
That fine young man let me ride in his van and everything was crankin'.
Aaron let me off by the Garfield stop a few steps from the Red Line.
A stranger swore he knew me, gave his transfer to me, and I've never felt so fine since I rode the Love Bus.

Love, love, get on the love bus. (4 times)

On my way back home, I was all alone until I reached my stop.
A crowd of men stood by a van and tried to call the cops.
A hit and run, the culprit gone, a lady was trapped inside.
Medics pulled her free then they looked over to me and asked me if I needed a ride.

Sure beats riding the love bus.

Love, love, get on the love bus. (12 times)

 

Memo To Your Self

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Lighten up!
You carry existential weight
As if it were the will of fate
You're aging at alarming rate
And it's such a waste of youth.
I should know,
I was once too serious, just like you
Wrapped up in my own worldview
And the knots I tied myself into.
It's time to cut you loose.

Write a memo to yourself
That, for your mental health,
Try to give the good life a chance.
You might even find
That I still respect your mind,
Even though I want to watch you dance.

Won't you come,
When the sun is setting in the west
And the daylight has been put to rest?
The trixies in their cocktail dress
Go stumbling down the street.
I don't mind
The common joys I once disdained
The drivers that drove me insane
For reasons that I can't explain,
I like everyone I meet.

Write a memo to yourself
That, for your mental health,
Try to give the good life a chance.
You might even find
That I still respect your mind,
Even though I love to watch you dance.

In the end,
All our worldly scales must fall
The things that drove us up the wall
They won't bother us at all
When the clock says, "Out of time."
We can dance!
It's really quite effectual
I know you're intellectual,
But it's really more than sexual -
As if that were such a crime.

Write a memo to yourself
That, for your mental health,
Try to give the good life a chance.
You might even find
That I still respect your mind,
But please, can I get in your pants?

 

Mowing Molly's Garden

words and music by Ethan Sellers

I never liked to mow the lawn when I was just a boy
I'd rather have gone into the woods and played around with toys
But like the dinner you wouldn't eat 'cause you didn't have the taste
One day you're glad your momma made you stay and clear the plate

Back from college, summer job, had to mow the lawns some more
Got paid to trim the grass all day, my whole body turning sore
But when you're reading constantly, exertion's what you need
I learned to look forward to those summers whacking weeds

I'm a fast-learner, a speed-reader
I'm concrete when it hardens
I'm a roto-rooter, a weed-eater
I'm mowing Molly's garden.

Out of school, I cut my hair, and now I'm working hard
To rent a place to call my own with a lawn in the back yard
The workday ends, I pack my things, and I'm out the door and gone
Back home to shed those work clothes and take the hose to Molly's lawn.

I'm a fast-learner, a speed-reader
I'm concrete when it hardens
I'm a roto-rooter, a weed-eater
I'm mowing Molly's garden.

She leaves a delta at the top
She manages it with care
Daylillies, snapdragons, asparagus
The rest I make sure is perfectly clear

I'm a fast-learner, a speed-reader
I'm concrete when it hardens
I'm a roto-rooter, a weed-eater
I'm mowing Molly's garden.

 

Mushmouth

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Close the door
Don't let her back inside
Split-lip mushmouth
What was on your mind?

Coffeeshop poet
Couldn't find a rhyme
Didn't notice when
She asked you for a dime

Mushmouth

An open mind
Stoned or just naive
Paid her cab fare
So she'd have you believe

She took the bus
Spent the rest on crack
Hey sugar-daddy
She's rollin' in the rack

Mushmouth, c'mon honey
Mushmouth, gimme some money
Mushmouth, c'mon honey
Mushmouth, gimme some money

You were lonely and getting old,
But whoever heard of a crack whore with a heart of gold?

Moral high ground
Was never the point
She was making you
And casing our joint

Did you get wise
Or did your wallet just get bare
She rings the bell
We tell her you're not there

Mushmouth, c'mon honey
Mushmouth, gimme some money
Mushmouth, c'mon honey
Mushmouth, gimme some money

 

Old Access Road

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Take me down, take me down, to the old access road,
Where the dirt path meets the highway and the storm run-off flows
If I had known of somewhere else, I'd'a left here long ago
'Stead of starin' at the sunset as it darkens access road.

I was raised at the end of a one-way cul de sac
No use in looking forward, no hope in looking back
Lost touch of all the kids in my graduating class
My friends all moved away and the rest can kiss my ass
'Cept the girl I gave my heart at the end of senior year
At summer's end she packed her things and moved away from here.

Take me down, take me down, to the old access road,
Where the dirt path meets the highway and the storm run-off flows
If I had known of somewhere else, I'd'a left here long ago
'Stead of starin' at the sunset as it darkens access road.

Took a job in the middle of a 'mazing mega-mall
There are times at work when I get lost inside it all
After work I drive downtown, belly up, and have a drink
Talkin' shit, watchin' sports, and tryin' not to think
Of the life I could still have and why I shouldn't stay
And the lifetime of uncertainty I'd find on the highway

Take me down, take me down, to the old access road,
Where the dirt path meets the highway and the storm run-off flows
If I had known of somewhere else, I'd'a left here long ago
'Stead of starin' at the sunset as it darkens access road.

Take me down, take me down, to the old access road
Get your keys, lock the house, 'cause I just can't go alone
I believe in somewhere else, that I heard of long ago
So let's ride off into the sunset as it darkens access road.

 

On Your Left

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

The bike path on Lake Shore is my royal domain
I cycle its asphalt in snow, sleet, and rain
Who are these latecomers, these fairweather types
Who wobble and meander on skates and on bikes?

They take up two lanes with their unwieldly girth
They heave and they sweat like a cow giving birth
Their pedestrian arrogance clogs the bike path
They can't seem to hear when I yell "On your left!"

Why do they think they can litter the path?
Their casual arrogance will bring down my wrath.
My sweet revenge - I have it planned
I fly down the bike path, my bike lock in hand,

Gonna
Whup you wit de bike lock
Whup you up de haid
Whup you wit de bike lock
Whup you til you daid
Whup you wit de bike lock
Like my momma said
Whup you wit de bike lock
Til de green grass turn red

Picnicking barbecuers clog the bike path
They leave broken bottles in their aftermath
Malt liquor, cheap beer, glass shards deflate
Tire after tire, it makes me irate

Why do they think they can litter the path?
Their pedestrian arrogance will bring down my wrath.
My sweet revenge - I have it planned
I fly down the bike path, my bike lock in hand,

Gonna
Whup you wit de bike lock
Whup you up de haid
Whup you wit de bike lock
Whup you til you daid
Whup you wit de bike lock
Like my momma said
Whup you wit de bike lock
Til de green grass turn red

 

Osaka Garden

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

When I need to disappear, to collect my thoughts in peace
Away from traffic, phone, and fears that come and go but never cease
I go to a garden tucked away
From the city life that confronts me every day
Into the woods, as I did when I was young,
To find myself though I am lost to everyone.

I have always believed, though at times I do forget
Beauty can restore my soul when my balance is upset
Peace found in nature's symmetry
I need the silence to hear its harmony
Listen to earth's rhythm and its tones
Hear it in the trees, water, grass, and stones.

If you come in this place, please respect the peaceful silence
Leave the stones in their place, turning only does them violence
Tread lightly on the petals in your path
Let this serenity pacify your wrath
Watch the geese take respite from their flight
Nature's rhythms put our problems in new light.

 

Our Estrangement

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Summer days give new lovers all the time in the world
In the shade, on the grass, midst the trees and the squirrels,
In the stars, in between lines, in reflections in our eyes.

Passion can be a fickle mistress who leaves mystery unfurled
As shivering naked honesty in a corner, cowering, curled
Up tight, while sweat dries, and summer's heat subsides.

We used to be so bold
Now we're just growing cold

Fall's first brush of cool air seemed a welcome relief
Leaves fell on hardening ground and rot in airless heat
Screens were taken out and storm windows take their place.

We scurried to save the daylight soon stolen by time's thief
Acquaintances turned to obstacles on gnawing chilly streets
So we layered on the clothing and our feet picked up the pace.

Eyes to the ground
Don't break your stride
Don't hear a sound
Keep the world outside.

We used to be so bold
Now we're just growing cold

Dead of winter and what warmth we shared is kept to ourselves
In the insulated confines, tucked away on shelves
Hidden from view like old photos from your past.

We pretend not to remember, lest memories overwhelm
The boundaries we've constructed, lest honesty dispel
The belief that only our estrangement could ever last.

Eyes to the ground
Don't break your stride
Don't hear a sound
Keep the world outside.

 

The Pile

Words and Music by Ethan Sellers
A clear and sunny morning went dark forever more
When first we heard the impacts and then we felt the horror
They ran into the towers, they didn't think to wait
Without a thought for themselves, they bravely met their fate

They acted with courage, they gave their lives
They left behind mothers, daughters, wives
They were our brothers, our friends, our sons
It could have been you, me, or anyone

The sky came crashing down, the gates of Hell yawned wide
The mighty towers destroyed, six thousand souls inside
Shrouded in smoke, and breathing ash
Pulverized concrete, vaporized glass

They acted with courage, they gave their lives
They left behind mothers, daughters, wives
They were our brothers, our friends, our sons
It could have been you, me, or anyone

We sift through the wreckage to try to make some snese
To bring some order to our world in the wake of these events
"How could this happen?" we cry in grief and rage
In all of these uncertainties, we know our lives have changed.

We must act with courage, these are our lives
Stand up for our mothers, daughters, wives
Hold fast to our brothers, our friends, our sons
Stand up for us all, stand up for each one.

 

She

Words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers
Additional music by Doug Padian

She carried me through my naivete
Nuzzling my petulent screams at her breast
She quietly tolerated my petty rebellions
And cleaned up when I fouled the nest.

She is my mother earth
She is my sister sky
She is my lover night
She is my shelter, and she's stronger than us all.

I stand stunned by all the wrongs we've done to her,
The torment of empty promises and lies
She takes this pain in like a breath that never stops inhaling
Nature's never-ending grieving sigh.

She is my mother earth
She is my sister sky
She is my lover night
She is my shelter, and she's stronger than us all.

Your Newfoundland, your fresh-minted real estate
Was there long before you came to discover her
She gave us all we'd need, but you've been profligate
The wealthy prodigal returns to beat his mother.

From all the times she's been chased, caught, and subdued
I can see the scars of the attack
I'd spit the hurt back, I'd rage and lash out
She holds out her arms and welcomes us back.

She is my mother earth
She is my sister sky
She is my lover night
She is my shelter.

 

She Will Never Know

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

It always seemed to be raining
Whenever we were in town
We huddled under my umbrellas
We carried our own clouds
Kissing in the streets
Indifferent to the crowds.

Commuter romance urgency
A week together, three months wait
In the absence of history
Small things feel like fate
From heaven's arcs
To the lines on my hand

She will never know
She will never know

I've caught moments in slow motion
Museums, films, streets, bus rides
Lazy breakfasts, walks on the lake
The times we just stayed inside
We gorged on moments
We were starved for time

And the way we fit together
Unconscious, soft, and warm
I could see our family in her eyes
The way I'd protect her from all harm
But I couldn't hold her
From miles and miles away

She will never know (and you will never hold her)
She will never know (even though you've told her)

Maybe I'll see her one day
In a crowded airport lounge
Or running past to catch a train
In a rush to get downtown
I'd feel a flash of panic
As she quickly crossed the street
And drown in downpoured memories
If my chance we'd meet,
So
She will never know (and you will never hold her)
She will never know (even though you've told her)

 

Slumlord

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

There's a hole in my floor
Where the sewer pipe goes down
I tried to get the problem fixed
But the handyman's not around
I tell my landlord about this mess
He says that it will take another week
He should come right away
My apartment has begun to reek.

The heat comes on for just one hour
Sometime around 6am
Then you nearly freeze to death
Until sometime around quarter to ten
He heats the place just long enough
To keep the water pipes from freezing up
You wouldn't think, this day and age,
That a landlord could be so corrupt.

Slumlord

The lock is broken on the front door
It's been that way about two weeks
The lights went out, the fuse has blown
And the bathroom sink has sprung a leak
These things are all an easy fix
But it seems the man is never home
But if the rent's a minute late
You bet my landlord's on my phone.
Slumlord

 

Snow

lyrics and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Chicago snow fell suddenly upon the waiting frozen ground
Blanketing the city streets and deadening the traffic sound
She came to me to break the silence and made her way through drifting snow
Her cheeks were flushed when she arrived and we had to warm her toes
Why don't you come in? Did you come alone?
I'll turn the heat up, and we'll warm your bones.

She came to talk but had to stay - the night was growing far too cold
The night went on and she grew warm and sauvignon soon made us bold
Red sauce with red wine had simmered slowly on the flame
We covered up the naked pasta now entangled without shame
Why don't you stay here? It's too cold to walk home.
We'll be so much warmer than if sleeping alone.

Alone

Snow brings out the colors in the grayest of stones,
And brings out the lover in a friend barely known.

Morning light shone through the windows upon the clothing-covered floor
I kissed her dryly on the lips when we reached her apartment door
Walking home through graying slush, dull drones replaced silence
When next we met, we called that night a pleasant case of circumstance.
Straining for comfort with now-formal tones
Lovers in darknesss estranged when the light shone.

 

Socks and Underwear for Christmas

by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Socks and underwear for Christmas
Socks and underwear this year
Socks and underwear for Christmas
And it won't be a happy new year

There wasn't much money in my family
To buy big presents for the tykes
So all us kids didn't run downstairs
Thinking we were getting motor bikes.
We'd get
Socks and underwear for Christmas
Socks and underwear this year
Socks and underwear for Christmas
And it won't be a happy new year

Since money was tight, folks were prudent
They got us gifts we'd really need
Like shoes and pants and a toothbrush
And bulk-ordered band-aids when we bleed.

Socks and underwear for Christmas
Socks and underwear this year
Socks and underwear for Christmas
And it won't be a happy new year

Santa's story has one problem
Other kids are rarely that discreet
Santa has love for all the children,
But he's nicer to the family down the street,
'Cause we got
Socks and underwear for Christmas
Socks and underwear this year
Socks and underwear for Christmas
And it won't be a happy new year

My parents told me if I'm naughty
Santa'd stuff my stocking full of coal
Please don't think I'm being haughty
But Santa is a real asshole.
He gave me
Socks and underwear for Christmas
Socks and underwear this year
Socks and underwear for Christmas
And it won't be a happy new year

But now that I've gotten much older
And pay for clothing for myself
I'd like some boxers in my stockings
And wouldn't mind some tube socks from the elf
Please give me
Socks and underwear for Christmas
Socks and underwear this year
Socks and underwear for Christmas
Or it won't be a happy new year
Or it won't be a happy new year
Or it won't be a happy new year.

 

Special Sauce

music and lyrics by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Maybe I'll get me some Harold's fried chicken
White meat hot sauce to make it finger-lickin'
Wash it all down with a bottle of Ne-Hi
White bread, ripple fries, slaw on the side

Some people swear Ribs and Bibs is the source
For down-home barbecue - you could do far worse
Ask them to explain - they'll be at a loss
You just gotta have that special hot sauce

I want a woman with that special sauce
To kiss me so hard my lips fall off
I want a woman with slaw on the side
Whose heart's as deep as her mind is wide.

I need a soul woman who's got the knack
Lookin' for dinner - not a late-night snack
Part-time short-term girls ain't too deep
Tiny chicken nuggets give me tryptophan sleep

I want a woman with that special sauce
To kiss me so hard my lips fall off
I want a woman with slaw on the side
Whose heart's as deep as her mind is wide.

She's gotta have soul
She's gotta have taste
I'm getting hungry
But I'm willing to wait, because

I want a woman with that special sauce
To kiss me so hard my lips fall off
I want a woman with slaw on the side
Whose heart's as deep as her mind is wide.

I want a woman with that special sauce
I want a woman with that special sauce

 

Summer, 1995

by Ethan Taylor Sellers

The hottest weeks that Chicago has known
Remembered as days when I made it my own
The air outside was hot and dry
A jello cube of heat
Suspended time like ambered flies
In a snapshot of the street
In '95, I burnt, alive and free.

Bronchitis floor in a summer sublet
Independent but poor - solo futon I slept
I came of age on a tiny wage
Made just enough to eat
Newspaper page of shut-ins, aged
Expiring from the heat
Address revised, the lake baptized
And I believed
In '95, reborn, alive and free.

 

Sudan

by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Escaped from hell
They burned up the village
And poisoned the wells
We see the slaughter
They hatchet the fathers
And gang-rape the daughters

Meanwhile, sitting in comfort
Our diplomats decide
What to call this human disaster
A gentler word than genocide.

Rape and murder
This isn't jihad
The Darfur are martyred
Understand
You failed to condemn them
This blood's on your hands.

Meanwhile, sitting in comfort
The Arab League confides
They need to devise a distraction
To keep our minds off genocide.

Blood for oil
Khartoum bought your silence
Your guilt stains the soil
Pain and sorrow
Turn a blind eye today,
See a darker world tomorrow

Meanwhile, sitting in comfort
The kangaroo court decides
What to call this human disaster
We know damn well it's genocide.

 

That's What I Hear

by Ethan Taylor Sellers

and I see low income housing replaced by condos
and I fear that rising prices make rent exclusive
and I feel different people should intermingle
and I hear that true progress is more inclusive

That's What I Hear
That's What I Hear

and I see you've bought the image and lost the substance
and I fear a hostile buyout by bankrupt aesthetics
and I feel this is just one turn in the urban cycle
and I hear the city's heart is now prosthetic

That's What I Hear
That's What I Hear

and I see that the cost of living is going upward
and I fear we're going forward but getting nowhere
and I feel that without change it won't get better
and I hear that we'll find the answers by looking inward

That's What I Hear
That's What I Hear

 

Throckmorton

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Genetic research grant
Melanogaster flies
Renewal comes too late
Towers monoxide

Noxious chemicals
Recombining genes
Splice and dice the traits
Mutated, flawed, obscene

Trashcan bongo drum
Dancing on the desk
Call the short skirts whores
Bite students in the class

Daily morning march
Umbrella held upright
Chanting all the time
"Bridge O'er River Kwai"

Scare the Mason stooge
Make him drop his change
Stop the local cars
Make them change their lanes.

 

Time to Go

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

When everyone's an idiot
They're just getting in the way
And every time you turn around
You feel you've been betrayed.
You can't allow your eyes to meet
When you seem someone you know
When you can't walk down your street
I think it's time to go.

Is it an anchor or your roots that you hold dear?
Are you kept here by contentment or paralyzed by fear?

When the parties you used to crash
Have all become a chore
The drunken smile worn as a mask
Just hides the fact you're bored

Maybe it's the scene you're in
But it's the only scene you know
Find yourself a different context
If you think it's time to go.

Is it an anchor or your roots that you hold dear?
Are you kept here by contentment or paralyzed by fear?

Sooner or later, you knew you'd have to leave this crowd
They never had a thing to say, but they always said it loud
I think it's time to go....

 

Tube Socks

music and words by Ethan Taylor Sellers

Are humans all like white tube socks,
Born as pairs from the factory box?
For though most men are born alone,
We fear life on our own.

We issue forth in pristine shape,
No blemish to besmirch our face
We mold to fit the needs of those
Who ready-match their clothes

We tread - our seams tear
Our threads - the years bare
We wear, then we're washed
We're pairs with partners lost.

The shuffle after washing sends
Us through a trial that never ends,
For though we once had a perfect match,
Life mixes up the batch.

We tread - our seams tear
Our threads - the years bare
We wear, then we're washed
We're pairs with partners lost.

Perhaps these pairs will re-unite
When toes poke through, no longer white
More likely we'll be cast aside
When elastic's stretched too wide.

 

Utility Blues

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

I want to trash Sanitation's ass
For all the tickets they wrote
I want answers from my alderman
Or she'll never get my vote
Those union slackers don't post the signs
But the ticket writers still hand out fines
The whole thing's just a scam.

I'm going postal on the U.S. Mail
My subscription never came
I haven't seen my Playboys yet
And the mailman is to blame
The CDs and cookies my baby sent
Lord only knows where that stuff went
But they always bring the bills.

Let's firebomb Ameritech
I've been put on hold too long
It took forever to hook me up
And then they did it wrong
My girlfriends think that I've defected
But it's just because I'm disconnected
Those bastards gotta go.

It's time to blow up People's Gas
For cutting off the heat
They wait until the winter came
And then jacked up the rates
My apartment's too cold and I desire
To warm my hands at their funeral pyre
The thought just warms my heart.

 

The Verdict

words and music by Daniel Marc Veidlinger

You can't change another person's feelings
You can plead your case, but to whom are you appealing?
You can't make another person love you,
Even if you shower them with love of your own.

I judge based on outward appearances
Words and deeds provide the evidence
About what she thinks deep inside
And hope and luck are my guides.

I will never know what goes on in her head
Try as I might, can't get past what she said

At what point is the verdict read?
At what point are all efforts dead?
When's the case open or closed shut?
Anticipation's come to a head.

Facts withheld, for her, they form a cloak
I'm witness to some twisted courtroom joke
Who knows what lies behind the veil I see?
I don't even think that she does.

How can I possibly know what she wants me to do?
I won't really know 'til I gingerly go make my move.
There's no higher court to which I can make my appeal
I stand accused of being who I am.

I will never know what goes on in her head
Try as I might, can't get past what she said

At what point is the verdict read?
At what point are all efforts dead?
When's the case open or closed shut?
Anticipation's come to a head.

At what point is the verdict read?
At what point are all efforts dead?
When's the case open or closed shut?
Anticipation's come to a head.

 

The Whistler

words and music by Ethan Taylor Sellers

He fills passers-by with a sense of unease
Overalls, blue jeans rolled up to his knees
Plays on the street when it's seven degrees
Stubby white fingers refusing to freeze

Looks like his wardrobe is under attack
Should cut his hair and trim his beard back
Pamphlets and cards in a small canvas sack
Walks with a dulcimer strapped to his back

Dan, Dan, The Whistle Man
Dan, Dan, The Whistle Man

Came back from 'Nam just slightly insane
Chemical warfare has messed with his brain
In veteran housing, keeps out of the rain
Plays for the people who wait for the train

Dan, Dan, The Whistle Man
Dan, Dan, The Whistle Man

 

You Know It

lyrics and music by Pat Buzby

The problem started years ago when you came into the world
The matter that you displaced with the anger that you hurled
Sometimes you make some clever jokes
Or taunt the girls with playful pokes
But that's not good enough - and you know it

You're walking down the city streets harassing passers by
The cars race on the sidewalk - maybe the papers will tell you why
The shoeshine man has special wax
He's not concerned with income tax
But you want out of here - and you know it

You sit around in sheltered rooms and think about yourself
With chronicles of better lives lined up along the shelf
Your head fills up with idle dreams
You think your case is so extreme
But your life is not so rough - and you know it

Perhaps some chump will come along and tell the reason why
And you might find out how to live before you find out how to die
Until the magic day arrives
You'll look for ways you might contrive
A rationale for life - and you know it

More Info:

MP3s
Art Nerd Info
Discography
      West Is North, East Is South
      Basement Sessions, Vol. 1
Lyrics

 
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Except as otherwise noted, all material on this website is copyright 2013 Tautologic. Album artwork by Ethan Sellers.