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note: if you own the 'songs' e.p. and you haven't discovered the songs on SIDE B, shame on you.
fleet-footed elephants theme (a pop song 'cos patrick told me to write one)(instrumental)the inalienable power of the deadpan everything's coming up robert frost and little women from now on; everything's just a little amusing — so subtle i forgot to laugh; hit the pavement, it turns out some people bleed pastel blood; took a boat to a marshmallow coast and did lunch with andy warhol; i don't need another cigarette, no more of that heart-felt shit; 'hey,' he said; 'hey yourself,' she said back, slightly turning her head to look just past him, he pretended not to notice just how cold it was; he said, 'how's the habit?' she said she had quit a week ago or so but it was no big deal; they both shrugged i guess; i grew out of being a kid, showing scars off like medals; it's a shame thing, i guess.in such an afternoongoddamn i hope they don't name you that; if they do just scream like today that you were born, i guess you could say they were unprepared; nine months is a long time to come up with a good name; it's almost been a week, man; come up with a good name; girl watch out behind you, it's a long way home; girl watch out behind you, it's so dark in such an afternoon; this'll all be over soon; i promise this is not yr. fault; i'll kill him i'll take out his heart; i'll sew his asshole closed and keep feeding him and feeding him; but what good would that do? it's a cold hard life; i'm going to meet you in two weeks and say, 'welcome kid, look these are the breaks'; in such a world may you abroad remain, morning broke and you're confused and you can't go back again.mount loganit's a shame about pierre, some things are scarier than being lost at sea; trapped up on that mountaintop, they just left him there, alone with just a prayer; the yukon keeps getting colder, it gets darker and darker and darker until you forget what it is to be remembered; teenaged girls send warm sweaters and love letters to the moon, wondering if he'll get them soon; wondering if that's high enough, if heaven will be high enough to reach him; the highest mountaintop keeps getting colder, it gets darker and darker; pierre is the air getting thinner or is that just you waiting to disappear? lonely nights, lonely heights; pierre, don't be scared, we still care; we haven't forgot you, it's true, you're in everything we do.
nick the folk singernick was a boy whose busy eyes as a boy nearly made him blind, he didn't think that real people were worth his time; he was saving his mind, he loved his mind, he kept it to himself and hid it between pages on the bookshelf; his girlfriend fell in love with me and i in love with him, she says he only thinks about himself; i said, 'you don't know him like i do'; she said, 'i know him well, better than you i'm sure,' and i guess i'm sure of it too; he drank himself to death one night in a bar beside a working class man; i wish i could see the look on his face as he drank him under the table, begging the working class to understand; she says, 'he doesn't know how to think of another person'; he thinks about himself in the third person; perfect forever like a postcard of the mona lisa in a small wooden frame on the bookshelf; his girlfriend fell in love with me and i in love with him, she says now even she ignores herself; i said, 'you don't know him like i do'; she says, 'i know him well, better than you i'm sure,' and i guess i'm sure of it too.
the place where no one loves anyoneairplanes burning, you're scared to be turning around, fall down, mission aborted, yr. destination's fading you can't find an airport, land in a train station; eighty-five cents take a bus to a hotel with a lounge and a retro-pop band; they're dancing badly the singles are all in the men's room, glancing romantically at the mirror, take a good look or you'll disappear, it's not enough when you took a pinch in a reverie, excuse me; excuse me, you're blocking the exit; it's stuffy in here; in the place where no one loves anyone; there's a place where no one loves anyone? the master race destroyed all the traces, the master of the masters sits with hemingway as they shoot off their faces, it was nice while it lasted; open the door and you'll see jean-paul sartre, simone de beauvoir, and holocaust survivors; the door slams shut and no one cares, they haven't been in love for years; excuse me, you're blocking the exit; it's stuffy in here; in the place where no one loves anyone; there's a place where no one loves anyone? i can't believe it.
the brightest lighti like being around people, i want to be alone; alone with people i like around, this isn't as stupid as it sounds, it's not as stupid as it sounds, not like as stupid as i look when i'm alone and not invisible; don't look, just turn back to what was more interesting in the first place; my mouth is closed please turn around, why does everybody look me in the face? i don't want to i don't want to really i don't really want to disappear; where were you? really, i tried to find you, honest; i'd really really much rather be here; imagine a light in yr. head, the brightest light you can imagine; concentrate on it until i say it's okay to look away; maybe it's selfish but it's how i can exist; burn out yr. retinae, you don't know how much i'll thank you for fulfilling my only wish.video store (andy dixon)i know what we had was stupid and juvenile, i know my attempts to impress you were juvenile, do you remember waiting outside yr. back door? we had just come back from a movie and i got real nervous; but you beared with me this time, i tried to shed my skin of youth; and it didn't help when i saw you just as nervous as me; i know it'd been a while since i saw yr. face, we had just exchanged a smile like a slap in the face, i know what we had was stupid and juvenile, but we're both still as young and stupid and juvenile; but you beared with me this time, i tried to hide my nervousness once more; and it didn't help when i saw you at the video store; please bear with me this time as i try to forget you but now i want to reminisce. (lyrics reprinted without permission)what can a compass accomplish?what can you do when no one will listen? you can't even tell them off. isn't it ironic that you can pull the trigger and the bullet still hits you in the face? i can't say it's proleptic, there's a figure in a world with no sound and he's yelling at the gate; hey, what's the use in yelling? you've got a lot to learn; hey, are you even listening to me? everyone lives in a circle, it's what keeps the squares out; you call it a clique, i call it sleeping soundly; everyone lives in a circle, it's what keeps the squares out; but sometimes the circle spins so quickly the edges wear down to the radius and there's just one left, turning around but there's no one to face him 'cos he's going so fast and they'd have to run to be eye to eye; i don't know what to do, my geometry's making them deaf, blind, and mute; who would have figured that a figure whose figurative question received a reply would up and die? trapped in a whirlwind of silence; what can you do when no one will listen? are you alive when no one's listening? in an unsound world can you call that singing?
bob and dianefather figure father figure; i thought we wouldn't have to bite it; patriarch; i thought we wouldn't have to find out what we already knew, we knew it was too late all along; looks like we lost, was anybody keeping score? i guess it doesn't matter now if it was close, consolations won't do us much good at this point; played a game we knew we couldn't win, we knew it was too late when we got in.
not enoughthis summer is the time for death to come, raining down like a bad light from the sun, feel the hot hot heat and not enough; everyday is like the flat land in between what people say and what i think they mean, ironically the winter seemed shades more green; when you said things will be so different you took you much too seriously when you said things won't be the same; september we'll be loitering at the wake, watching old ties wash out in the rain, i want to be dry at my parade; honestly i hope i do remember when it's so easy to pretend; don't say we'll be home in december, this is the end.
(sigh) to be unaloneto strut into the party and in one sweeping motion pick this girl off her feet; and smoke a cigarette and never see her again, just say when, six seven eight nine ten; bite my tongue it's wrong, it's terrible and well i'm too shy anyways; bite my lip 'til it's almost gone, dashing eyes across the room, can i sit here and watch you while i disappear? i want to know you, you looked me in the eyes but i wasn't sure, i had to look away; i always look away, god i hate me, and i'm not just saying it to get yr. attention; to have you here now, to have you fight me for the phone; (sigh) to be unalone; then we could disappear and not miss anybody.
salutthe candle was supposed to burn out, fingers pressed to snuff out the wick and walk out of the dark room, walk out on me; pack three years into a month and a half, burns twice as bright, a twenty-fourth as long and i'd have to say it's not the way i saw us walking into losing touch after the fact, we saw it coming too soon to react; the fact is things end and we end with them, everything ends with that one, graduation; things end, i don't, but you think you'd better leave before it kills you; easing ourselves down the rope, we slipped; maybe things are better off to end like this; i'll be forever and you'll be forever and, somewhere, we'll be together; i'll be forever and you'll be forever and someday, somewhere.
song for a sunday afternoonwhen do you want breakfast? ask me when i wake up; wake up i made you breakfast, get it before it gets cold; get out of the shower, yr. breakfast is cold already; i've waited an hour, you can cook for yourself next week; the river looks the same as it does on any sunday; not even in august do the clouds let the sun in; face in the garden or the cat's face in yr. book; these days are ominous, i think it's that that makes them special; dad comes home and goes to the driving range; how was church, honey? he doesn't hear her over the radio; he gets changed in a hurry; do yr. homework and turn off the t.v., and help me carry something; in a minute, i'll try not to forget; hope you didn't take it personally; i don't want to go back to work; face in the garden or the cat's face in yr. book; if the sun never shines through at least it never rains on sunday; i can't remember when i've had a better day.
all songs by r.mutt (© 2001 monoculture media conglomerate) unless otherwise indicated.