The Hens Lay Everyday


Intelligence may procure the information.
Intelligence may procure the information.
The intelligence may procure the information
but the hens lay everyday.


Statistics prove that we've got nothing to hide.
Statistics prove that we've got nothing to hide.
The statistics prove that we've got nothing to say
but the hens lay everyday.


Radio crackling on a distant wave
on the AM in the AM
from Arizona.


It is said that in the not too distant future
a musical virus will arise
consuming everything and everybody who hears it.
Only the “Few” will survive.
...and those who can't dance will be able to dance
and those who can
will die.


Radio crackling on a distant wave
on the AM in the AM
from Arizona.


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This Is Not My World


This is not my world anymore,
I guess it turned a way.
There must be somewhere I can go
where it just stayed the same.
Without living in the past.
Forget about tomorrow.


This is not my world anymore,
I have no clue what you’re saying.
I don’t even have the strength
to dig for hidden meaning.
So stop living in the past,
forget about tomorrow.


When they pretended to let the people speak
first they tenderized the meat.
It so easy to process the cattle
when they learn to hear the brass rattle.
This is not my world


I caught myself thinking a popular thought
repeating something I was taught


This is not my –
This is not my world


Make the best of what you got boy.
You get the best of what you make.
Make the best of what you got boy;
hand over fist...


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Mïlchig (The Relax)


I fell into a heady dream one day.
The moaning cars became the sighs of maidens.
A tiny man with massive hands...
he clutched his head.


He threw a punky log on to the fire
the sparks flew in his eyes.
Oh, poor him.
...but he had given me
the Relax.


Uomolino con grande mani
per il RELAX.


He stood up off the ground.
The chandelier grew closer
as his legs grew longer still.
Oh dream


Though others may protest and picket,
I still have my ticket home.
Uomolino con grande mani
per il RELAX.


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Sea Monkeys


They came via air mail
in a tiny cardboard box.
I waited hard for two long weeks.
Waiting for the knock.


I only wanted plankton.
I only wanted krill.
I only wanted something small
not something that could kill.


I placed them in the water
with their special powdered food.
Put them down by the radiator
in my cold little room.


But before I went to bed that night
I lifted up the cloth.
Thirteen eyes looked back at me.
They were busy in the dark.
Busy building houses.
Busy building machines.
Busy building towers and ladders to the sky.
Busy building castles and ladders to the sky.


Crustacean Monkey-Queen
pumicing her pincers!


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If You Go Away

Ne Me Quitte Pas by Jacques Brel
English Lyrics by Mort Shuman


If you go away
on this summer day
then you might as well
take the sun away.
Remember watching the birds
in the summer trees?
Well our love was new
and we were high
and the day was young
and the night was long
and the moon stood still
for the nightingale’s song.
Don’t leave me.


But if you stay
I’ll make you a day
like no day has been
or will be again.
We’ll suck up the sun,
ride on the rain
and talk to the trees
and worship the wind.


...but if you go,
I’ll understand.
Leave me enough love
to fill up my hand.
If you go away.


If you go away
as I know you will,
you must tell the world
to stop turning
till you return again –
if you ever do.
For what good is love
without you?
Can I tell you now
as you turn to go
I’ll be dying slowly
till the next hello.
Don’t leave me.


...but if you stay
I’ll make you a night,
like no night has been
or will be again.
I’ll sail on your smile,
I’ll ride on your touch.
I’ll talk to your eyes.
I’ll talk to your eyes.
...and if you go I won’t cry
when the good is gone
from the word good-bye.
If you go away.


If you go away,
as I know you must,
there will be nothing left
in this world to trust.
Just this empty room
like the empty look...
Like the empty look
I see on your face.
And I’d have been a shadow
of your shadow
if you might have kept me
by your side.
Don't leave me.


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The Happy Matador


See the happy Matador
proud against the sand
standing sideways
to the Bull.


In the feckless blue.
In a dream of you
lying on your back
in the summer grass.


…but then the winter swallows in the sky
steal the sun
flash their wings then glide
through November.


When old friends turn strange
though I haven’t changed
one iota.
I’ll follow the swallows cross the sea.


As though I had the luxury of humility
standing sideways
to the back door.


She said:
“Get out of my life,
you’re bringing me down!
You don’t sing my song anymore.
You live like a slob.
You don’t really care.
You drop cigarettes on the floor.”


I said
“Get out of my life!
You loved me before.
I don’t even care
one iota!


Darling, the days keep rolling on.
Hirundo rustica


See the happy Matador
who with no movement smiles;
hip to toe he shoots.


See the Matador.
With no movement smiles.
Hip to toe he shoots
one iota.


Somewhere there’s a light on in a room for me.
I’ll follow the swallows to the sea.


See the happy matador!


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Eliza


What am I gonna be doing about Eliza?
I always knew that she was trouble from the start.
Like listening to the tick-a-tick of a time-bomb.
No one ever said I had a fragile heart
...but the bomb, it came and wrecked me like a pizza.
The horrible thought that no one every really knew ya.
A marriage lined with guilt and Rhodedendron.
A gobbling squad of semi-retarded.
There’s nothing that can be done about Eliza
she’s got too many ironies on the fire.
The only credible thing about Eliza
is the terrible, terrible music she inspires.
Bananas.


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Uncle Bumbo's Christmas


The snow comes down as though the sky is falling.
So much for Uncle Bumbo’s global warnings.
He should be banking upon that actual star.
That actually will fall -to fall- and kill us all.
I love everything about Christmas
except Christmas.


The Christians marched into the darkened city
and lit the streets with product and generosity.
...but as for me I’m feeling weak and bony.
I think I’ll go find Tony and have another beer.
I love everything about Christmas
except Christmas
time.


Down where the sun will crown
that’s where “the shit” goes down.
Where the anger that pricked the sky
sits in a dome of brown.
Manny hands an envelope to a boy with a phone.
...and freedom’s just a goat in the snow
tied there to mow the lawn.


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The House With The Laughing Windows


Whistling through the cemet’ry
the true children of fear.
Drifting among the stones.
We must find some comfort here.


On a hill above us all –
the house with the laughing windows
and I... and I...
I don’t know why these things must end
I don’t know why...


We squeezed in through the milk-box
and fell down to the kitchen floor. – I got a plan
You and I would live in there – forever –
and how the time stood still.


You are so beautiful
courageous and I...
and I...
I don’t know why these things must die
I don’t know why these things
I don’t know why
I don’t know why


Some may think aloud
and some may think inside.
Some are not allowed
and some may choose to hide.


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Aluminum Flies


Was it for naught?
Did I fall in for nothing?
The wind, so wild and forgiving.
Aluminum flies over the corpse of the city
waiting for their turn at the carcass.


Please talk me down, I don’t mind.
220 Heavy,
you’re cleared to land.
Take my hand.


Choosing to cry for the great heavy metal
that went screaming off the end of the runway
...but the fuel smells sweet
and the horizon’s willing.
Big white bird
bye bye...


...where’s my love?


Please talk me down, I don’t mind
220 Heavy,
you’re cleared to land.
Take my hand.


Was she so free that I fell in for nothing?
The wind so wild and uplifting.


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The Birds of Lanark County


The Birds of Lanark County.
Where do you go when the cold night comes down?
In the land of the ice and the deep deep snow –
and the black, black waters.
Watching civilization disappear again.


So far away.
So far...
...but I can hear it now...
Now, I’m the noise from the outer world.
...I can hear it now...
I seep through cracks in the sky
...I can hear it now...
and the more that you ignore me
...I can hear it now...
the harder I will try.
...I can hear it now...
I got my nose pressed into the grindstone.


The Birds of Lanark County:
Not a creature stirs in the forest tonight.
Not the snap of a twig or a crack in the ice.
A breath of powder or a shift in the light.
Not even the shadow of a shadow of a shadow...


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