1. |
||||
2. |
||||
You're never far enough away...
You can fuck your wife
Never admit that she’s your type
fuck until you’re in the other room
far from any sense of doom
You can grow your beard
Cover yourself and disappear
Avoid the mirrors that reflect
What you are trying to forget
CHORUS
Everybody else is dumb
It’s so lonely as the only one
who knows what the hell is going on
human lightning with a gun
You’ve made a detailed plan
You notice more than the average man
But you miss things like your doppelganger wasn’t
And your wife is sleeping with her cousin.
CHORUS
Your Superiority belies
Feeling inferior inside
It’s the classic cover up
The boring everyday stuff
You can’t stand yourself
Tell yourself he looks like you
And so you kill him to
Be that much more removed
But you’re never far enough away.
|
||||
3. |
Corn Mo - Despair
04:26
|
|||
4. |
||||
Words Escape Me (open D capo 5 - key of G)
I need to see your luring hands
Your wild eyes to understand
I need to see your crude hair curl
Clip the ribbon and it unfurls
I need to see for myself
I need to feel your urgent skin
To fathom the mood you put me in
I need to feel my hand yours in
The fever that lies therein
I need to feel for myself
Words escape me
There's nothing I can say
Words escape me
They easily slip away
I need to hear your earthy voice
To realize I have no choice
I need to hear your mortal song
To light the night where I went wrong
I need to hear for myself
The only words I've found
Make these sounds
They easily slip
They easily slip
They easily slip
Away
|
||||
5. |
||||
6. |
||||
I married a cold fish
My cousin’s my lover
Now I am rich
We still see each other
The price that I pay
Is my husband’s derision
But everyone knows
That you can’t trust his vision
chorus:
My first is a fiery feeling
My second’s a beast
My whole is a beast
My heart isn’t lying
My ardor my lion
My lover’s an artist
He’s kind of a drinker
But all of his flaws
I could count on one finger
His paintings are good
Though he mostly draws still lifes
To pay for his rent
How could he afford a wife
(chorus)
My husband is blind to what’s
Under his own nose
I do what I like
And I like anything goes
I can’t stand his touch
But he doesn’t much either
He leaves me alone
That’s what makes him a keeper
(chorus)
He sees me on my lover’s bed
In a rumpled slip half dressed
Or swimming with him in plain sight
Our underwater limbs entwined
Denying or oblivious
He doesn’t notice what’s amiss
This state of affairs
Is a delicate balance
Maintaining it takes
A particular talent
I know that exposure
would be something awful
But somehow I find
I am less and less careful
(chorus)
|
||||
7. |
||||
8. |
||||
I've got a memory it burns like a camera
or maybe it's vile, damned, ill-turned etcetera
It sits on my pen and draws up these letters
The address is posted the same as my doorstep
Be patient my listener I won't forget
To tell this story but first
my damn french cigarette - needs re-lighting
See I'm charming, I'm witty, I'm pretty, I'm faithful
certain devious acts I find most delightful
like plotting my likeness and planning it's burial
Or watching my body writhing and sensual
From distances you'd think a lie or impossible
but now I've derailed my tale
It's all so comical - this getting caught
The structure of my ballad
Has led us all astray
My minds a loaded mousetrap
I need a clean getaway
I want a clean getaway
My pen shakes, it hesitates, my hands all a twitter
Such a delicate tale to tell with a quiver
but I know I arranged an infallible murder
An identical identity is all that I needed
to set forth my plan and so I proceeded
to hunt down my double and BAM
I shot down my freedom - the other sparrow
The mirrors a mock existance
and it holds me like a slave
and heaven's not the answer
I need a clean get away
I need a clean get away
The crime scene was left spotless
no detail left unturned
the body my mirror image
how could they have discerned
The injustice played against me
is clear as that ashtray
with simple minds around me
I'll make my clean get away
(for I am just a sparrow)
I'll make a clean get away
(I am just a fiddler)
I'll make a clean getaway
(I am just an actor)
clear the stage, for my clean
getaway
|
The Bushwick Book Club Brooklyn, New York
We started in January 2009 playing songs written in response to Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions. We haven't stopped since. We've written & performed songs inspired by everything from "On The Origin of Species" to Dr. Seuss to Raymond Carver. There are BBCs popping up nationwide now. Bushwick Book Club Seattle started in 2010 & is run by Geoff Larson. Our nerdy dare-devilry knows no bounds. ... more
Contact The Bushwick Book Club
Streaming and Download help
If you like The Bushwick Book Club, you may also like: