al666insongs

I gave Xavier a whole mess of my lyrics that I’ve written over the course of the last year or so, and he’s been fooling around restructuring old songs to new melodies. This is our first original track, “Witch Trial.” 

(Also, I guess we’re going to need a band name: now taking suggestions.)

Lyrics:

And the first time a kiss meant anything
I spit the the first words that came to my lips
“I love you” and I think she did too but she knew it would be over soon 
I’m glad she didn’t say it back
that would have fucked my shit up real bad
it’s sad 
alas, on the last rail
shivers skinny a cat who lost its tail
the train shudders, tired, 
crows on the wire 
cackle and chatter
the cat, in fear, scatters.

The earth will turn the other way
the earth will never burn in flames

and you’ll survive
any witch trial
you’ll float
over the edge
of the cliff
and they’ll know

Be good to the creatures of the earth
be good to yourself most of all for all your worth

And the last time a kiss meant anything,
she said the first thing that came to her head
“I Love You” and I think I did too, but,
I knew it would be over soon
I’m glad I didn’t say it back
that would have fucked her shit up real bad 

The earth will turn the other way
the earth will never burn in flames

and you’ll survive
any witch trial
you’ll float
over the edge
of the cliff
and they’ll know

Be good to the creatures of the earth
be good to yourself most of all for all your worth

“These Few Presidents,” a WHY? cover that Xavier and I just recorded. Original lyrics:

at your house the smell of our still living human bodies and oven gas
you pray to nothing out loud
two first names and an ampersand
embroidered proudly on a kitchen towel
you’re a beautiful and violent word
with the skinny neck of a chinese bird
in a fading ancient painting
and if you’re in heaven waiting
you made it there fighting
the tightest kite string
in a bad storm with lightning

and now these few presidents
frowning in my pocket
can persuade no god
to let me let you talk, oh
these few presidents
frowning in my pocket
can persuade no god
to let me let you off

even though i haven’t seen you in years
yours is a funeral i’d fly to from anywhere

i thought i had a pebble in my sock
i pulled it off and shook out a wasp
it stumbled out lost, and without a pause
unstung as i was, still i stomped it
i thought, there is no paved street worthy
of your perfect scandanavian feet
while my crooked chinese fingers groped
the machinery of your throat

and now these few presidents
frowning in my pocket
can persuade no god
to let me let you talk, oh
these few presidents
drowning in my pocket
can persuade no god
to let me let you off

even though i haven’t seen you in years
yours is a funeral i’d fly to from anywhere

Today’s exclusive song is a cover of Ben Folds’ “Fred Jones, pt. 2.” I have never heard part one, and I’m not sure if it actually exists (I would look it up, but I didn’t pay the google bill last month and they cut off my service). Of the song, “your_name_here” comments on songmeanings.com:

“this song just makes me wanna cry. i mean its basically about a guy getting fired from his job but the way ben folds writes it just makes it so incredibly sad. it goes much deeper than the surface. when i get a job ill be sure to make an impression upon people so when im there i wont be ignored and when im gone i wont be forgotten. i dont want to end up like fred jones. ”

Fred sits alone at his desk in the dark
There’s an awkward young shadow that waits in the hall
He’s cleared all his things and he’s put them in boxes
Things that remind him: ‘Life has been good’
Twenty-five years
He’s worked at the paper
A man’s here to take him downstairs
And I’m sorry, Mr. Jones
It’s time
There was no party, there were no songs
‘Cause today’s just a day like the day that he started
No one is left here that knows his first name
And life barrels on like a runaway train
Where the passengers change
They don’t change anything
You get off; someone else can get on
And I’m sorry, Mr. Jones
It’s time
Streetlight shines through the shades
Casting lines on the floor, and lines on his face
He reflects on the day
Fred gets his paints out and goes to the basement
Projecting some slides onto a plain white
Canvas and traces it
Fills in the spaces
He turns off the slides, and it doesn’t look right
Yeah, and all of these bastards
Have taken his place
He’s forgotten but not yet gone
And I’m sorry, Mr. Jones
And I’m sorry, Mr. Jones
And I’m sorry, Mr. Jones
It’s time
 

Hey, it’s been awhile! Xavier and I have been doing some covers, and I’m going to start sharing them. All instrumentation and harmony credits go to him, except where noted. Please enjoy the most recent of these, “Anthrax”, by Kimya Dawson. Her original lyrics (which we changed only very slightly) are:

there’s anthrax in the envelope i opened in my dream
the sky is red and little kids are running, screaming in the street
i tried to run and save them but i had molasses feet
i keep having nightmares and i’m scared to go to sleep

if you fall in i’ll jump down
and touch your face while we’re both sinking
(stinking thinking) we won’t drown
you are my friend
and what we’re doing’s too important
for our lives to end quite yet

in montreal i got so mad, someone broke into the van
stole my guitar and aaron’s bag
then we turned on cnn, watched the towers fall again
and realized that our lives aren’t so bad

this is just a test take it with love and you will pass
you will be rewarded if you do your very best
nothing ever goes as planned so don’t take anything for granted
if you do the world will kick your ass

the air is filled with computers and carpets
skin and bones and telephones and file cabinets
coke machines, firemen, landing gear, and cement
they say that it’s okay but i say don’t breathe in

the air is filled with computers and carpets
skin and bones and telephones and file cabinets
coke machines, firemen, landing gear, and cement
they say that it’s okay but i say don’t breathe that shit in

an angel named gabriel is watching over you
he was a friend mistreated now he’s dead so say you’re sorry to him
when you say your prayers tonight if you make amends
the gates to heaven here on earth will open up again

if you fall in i’ll jump down
and touch your face while we’re both sinking
(stinking thinking) we won’t drown
you are my friend
and what we’re doing’s too important
for our lives to end quite yet

Why?’s Light Leaves sung over the music to Peach Plum Pear performed by this lady: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Wg0H1oRSOU.

Lyrics:

Each of these old light leaves is dirt,
barely held together by
tiny bone hands that used to be alive

Holding hands
loose gripped
at the deja vu dream scene end
of a lifelong relationship

These light leaves
is my hair on the bathroom floor,
my smaller selves down the sewer somewhere,
under berkeley, cincinatti, or on tour
Airplane rear
and hotel lobby ladies rooms: beware,
as these light leaves bagged up in plastic,
never to decompose or fertilize

When my balls are finally big enough to do it
I don’t want no casket, no saddle,
no seethrough plastic mask,
no casket, no saddle,
no seethrough plastic mask

And when I finally do it
I wanna do the dirt
like the dead leaves do
and if you do leave the earth
when the earth leaves you

cold and hard as a marble table top
with nothing on top,
there’s no hip-hip-hop-hooray
keeping Heaven’s golden-barbed gateway,
no bright confetti, high-step march, ticker tape parade
There’s no mound of clouds to lounge on,
no mound of clouds to lounge on

Hell yeah. Another full band live over-dubbing, this time somewhat in dialogue with Efraim’s vocals, but not really, but I think sounds cool with the combative nature of the sound-scape. I sing Efraim’s lyrics with him at the line “I hope you know that you’re mine, yeah we’re pals,” because I love it and we are.

The Loved Ones

I have all of this anger
I try to repress
because anger is failure
of the heart, manifest
and depression, it thickens
despite blessings I’m given
cause it isn’t what you have it’s who
and darling it feels hopeless if I don’t have you.

Sometimes I feel like the world’s at its end
but I drink a little coffee, I can manage again
enough to bury what I’m thinking
in a script or in a song
and catharsis taken care of
I exhale and carry on

I try not to worry over trivialities
but sometimes I’m so lonely
that I can’t hardly breathe
Stress is the reaction to threat of death
a mouse in the sight of a hawk can attest
Every girl I ever fell in love with, it’s a few
from middle school to college,
now I speak to their memory through “you”

And sometimes I get more specific
but when I do then I wish that I didn’t
You don’t want to play cards
that you’re not gonna win
like I don’t want to stretch a line
that is already thin.

expressive in the best way
you have the best face
nervous as you were
holding my head from behind
gripping my neck with your fingers,
your thumbs on my spine
but I didn’t mind
you can exhaust my air supply
any time
it reminds me that I’m alive

I hope you know that you’re mine
yeah we’re pals
and we love each other

you didn’t seem to notice  
you were choking me
and I didn’t say shit
because I like it when I can’t breathe

That after death your hair and fingernails
continue to grow is a lie
the skin simply shrivels back
to expose the roots inside.