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Here's some big dumb fun. Delve now into the tortured past as we present...KENEALLY SONGS FROM DAYS GONE BY. Present day asides are in parentheses. Doodles are of Keneallian origin.

All lyrics © Mike Keneally and may not be used or reproduced without written permission from Mike. As if.


But First,

The Drawer Of Grin Theme Song

It's a wistful little 18-second, 138k sun-au sound file written and performed by Mike and Scott. Suitable.


I THINK I HEAR YOU CRYIN' OUTSIDE ON THE FRONT LAWN (1972) I was 10

(To the best of my recollection this is the first song I ever wrote on paper, and I obviously never finished it.)

Now, as the time flies, and dies, the cries of
You, on the lawn outside,
Cryin', cryin', cryin', cryin',
Sobbin', sobbin', sobbin', sobbin' there.
Don't know why you're cryin' so,
'specially since I don't even know your name.


FOR A BIRD (1973) I was 11

(A bloody epic, largely written during shop class in 7th grade. In fact it was the only thing I constructed in shop class that year.)

Microphones microscopic superstar on an asphalt stage
(Down; up) on the thing that might no longer
On a panda-powered polka-dot puck in a gilded cage
The strong get strong but the weak don't get stronger
Timmy and Timmy and Joe watch in amazement
Who is the one who will chonk out the earth?
A-chonk-anna-chonk but the chonks do no stuff
Teach us how to teach from birth? For a bird!
birdbirdbirdbirdbirdbirdbirdFor a bird!

A superstar might be but he was soon not never
A nonny-noomed zipper that dances at the mouth
Toulouse a tight a seborrhea topper chonker?
He may be a north but I think he's a south!
Joe and Tommy and Timmy look in terrifiance
Is he the guy who can chonk out two stones?
A-chonk-anna-chonk but the chonks do no stuff
A irresponsible pair of tight acrylic bones? For a bird!
birdbirdbirdbirdbirdbirdbirdFor a bird? Yes. Bird.

Instrumental

No more grits, please, my superstar's full
As a functional blue felt pen hits the fan
The ink spluts out, on my Brooks Brothers suit
I'm not satisfied and neither is that man!
See him?
Joetommyjimmy is under no fear
They know no superstar will chonk out our teeth
They say that he's deaf but I know she can hear
And on above creath? For his birds!

Does he have birds?

Ostriches, canaries, tubular bells, the honorable Dr. Quail
Roasters, and hens and chicken and woodpeckers and roadrunners

More, now? No, never.
Have a bottle of vodkachampagne will you be to it?
It's hard to take I know.
YOU'RE DEAD! COME BACK! EAT MEAT! BRUSH YOUR TEETH! GO TO BED!
PICK YOUR FEET!
FOR A BIRD...

Instrumental

Chonk out the states
Chonk out the planet
Chonk out the universe
Let us all live under skies of stars which number as one
If we float in midair we will have lots of fun
If we don't die from the lack of oxygen and heavy malnutrition.
If we don't die from the lack of oxygen and heavy malnutrition.
We're dead! No more! Let's stop at the store!
And pick up a see-through glass toothbrush...(I even have room for my toothbrush.)
I EVEN HAVE ROOM FOR A BIRD!

Seventy-two mentally abnormal pygmies
Don't steal the towels or the ashtrays will croak!
Speaking of frogs, the cropper neem-nom.
And at the small lobsters the mayor will poke!
Joe..Tommy...and Jimmy are DEAAAD now...
They don't no not and never won't will...
If you know what I chonk and chonk at a sneeze
(achooo...chonk)
We might get together and chonk for a bird.

The superstar syndrome will might could soon to end then,
Whenever then is! Pass the soap! Can you cope!
With high-heeled sneakers and leather hair?
Wearing chains around a two-cent neck?
Are you afraid it will spoil your "Debonair"?
Make you look like a wreck?
Like a flower?
Like a bird?
It's the hour
Have you heard?
Here they come...

Instrumental

Don't we take advantage of our material possessions when we do?
chair...desk...bed...bongoes...garbage can...radio...pens...pencils...pencil
sharpener...guitars...amp...lamps...TV...walls!
We should be more like birds!
All they got is their feathers and them!
Instead we just act like a big bunch of nerds
What's a flower without a stem?
This song is for a person what a worm is for a bird.
Bird a for is worm a what.
What's a bird to for is whom?
Who cares...Dennis' homing pigeon flies off with a paper containing
Mr. Wilson's hot stock market tip.
That's a pip! But it's not Gladys Knight, 'cuz she's not a bird,
And that was for a bird
birdbirdbirdbirdbirdbirdbirdFor a bird!

The asphalt celebrity is deader den a doornail!
The thing he (down; up) on is not might no longer
The puck broke out of the gilded cage
The strong are now weak and the weak gettin' stronger!
I told ya 'bout Joe, Tommy and Tim
But Jerry da Goos does good for all three!
The who chonks has just chonked out his room
But it's only a start, you see!
He soon will chonk out the entire world...
And all will live in e-ter-nal peace
The chonker will stop...he need not chonk no more
And war and death will cease! Napalm, away,
Don't kill no more stuff, don't kill no more birds
'cuz this whole dang song's for a bird.

Instrumental

'CAUSE THIS WHOLE DANG SONG'S FOR A BIRD!
The chonker's in Miami to live a life of chonk
The Jerry da Goos tap dances his way to fame
No more dirty laundry, throw out that sock
For a bird of a feather has not none one name!
Name one feather bird of a has none a not for!
For a bird, or two birds, as many as you can gather
You can die if you want, but for me, to live I'd rather
Go and die, not in the sky, it's for the birds...

Instrumental

Don't pollute the water, don't spit in the sky
You might hit a bird
You really shouldn't oughter, and that's said straight from I
And I came in third
Oh
Miami chonker and Jerry da Goos
They got more power than 12,000 moose
If between both of them just one you choose
Soon you will find yourself singing the blues

Instrumental

Don't we take advantage of our material possessions when we do?
Don't we? Don't we?
Miami chonker and Jerry da Goos
They got more power than 12,000 moose
If between both of them just one you choose
Soon you will find yourself singing the blues
Hey!
Microphones microscopic superstar on an asphalt stage
(Down; up) on the thing that might no longer
On a panda-powered polka-dot puck in a gilded cage
The strong get strong but the weak don't get stronger
Timmy and Timmy and Joe watch in amazement
Who is the one who will chonk out the earth?
A-chonk-anna-chonk but the chonks do no stuff
Teach us how to teach from birth?
An irresponsible pair of tight acrylic bones?
And on above creath? For a bird!
birdbirdbirdbirdbirdbirdbird
birdbirdbirdbirdbirdbirdbird
birdbirdbirdbirdbirdbirdbird
microphones microscopic microphones microscopic
microphones microscopic microphones microscopic
microphones microscopic microphones microscopic
microphones microscopic FOR A BIRD!
FOR A BIRD FOR A BIRD FOR A BIRD BIRD BIRD
FOR A BIRD FOR A BIRD FOR A BIRD BIRD BIRD
FOR A BIRD FOR A BIRD FOR A BIRD BIRD BIRD
FOR A BIRD!

Instrumental

a-chonk-anna-chonk? The world's been chonked out
For a bird
Yeah


EAT YOUR IMAGINATION (1974) I was 12

(The intended "sequel" to to "For A Bird" (each song filled up six notebook pages), this was largely written during shop class in 8th grade. I don't know why I kept getting a passing grade.)

The scene is the locker room at the fine George V hotel
I know that there is none, but the customers can't tell
With a smile on their tight blue lips and a gun hidden in their purse
What they don't say makes a lot of sense, what they say's all for the worse
Their dandruff-flake infested dormant brains lie in their skulls
They're just about as up-to-date as the San Diego Gulls
Which brings us to the present day, a present time and place
Give the man his present, please, just push it in his face
We were talking about you? Oh, yes we were! You're really quite a bore
Have you ever burped and felt the pride you swallowed the day before?
And your best friend, who's a pothead, can't express the love he has
For watching "The Bob Newhart Show" while listening to loud jazz
Not even dope can take him to that strange, faraway nation
Just close your eyes and count to twelve and eat your imagination
He thinks that he's the best around, at least that's how it seems
Three thank-you's aren't worth a sneeze in his small box of dreams
His name is Henry Dahmnahl, we should write a nasty letter
Because he's very snobbish and he thinks he's God or better
Strangely, his closest relative, a brother, name of Ty
Is what you'd call Hank's antonym, in fact, extremely shy.
Unlike his brother, Henry, who's an egocentric chap
We'd bring him out for you to see but he's taking a nap.
And he thinks that he's the best around, at least that's how it seems
Three thank you's aren't worth a sneeze in his small box of dreams
box of dreams
In his small box of dreams
Three thank you's aren't worth a sneeze in his small box of dreams.

And so the jolly millionaire counts up his lovely bills.
He takes some to the market and he buys a box of pills.
He feeds them to his rabbit, who falls down and promptly croaks
And the millionaire adds that one to his list of sickly jokes
And his best friend (yes, you guessed, friend) Henry Dahmnahl once again
I singing Hebrew hunting songs and licking a Bic pen.
Don't tell him he's obnoxious or he'll kick you and start crying
He'll tell you he is number one but you know that he is lying
You'd think no girl would wed him but he's got a wife named Jane
He figures she's fantastic but, Good Lord, she's such a pain
The women in her bridge club always sneer and turn away
She starts to weep and Henry swears that one day they will pay

(I have deeply pondered omitting the next section because it embarrasses the shit out of me. But here they are, the pitiable stardom-dreams of an odd 12 year old.)

I play the guitar I play the organ, too
I think I'll go far And there's a rock in my shoe
They'll pay lots of dough To hear my say "how are you?"
And the moon sets in the west
'Cause that's where the moon shines best
And all of my fans Will be coming from miles around
Just to look at my face And to hear my sound
I'll give them a show I'll pound them all in the ground
And the moon sets in the east
Harry, you're a beast

Sing a song of laughter, sing a song of woe
Sing a song of invalids who just can't move no mo
Sing a song of chocolate, sing a song of breath
Let a needle sing your song and you'll be singing death

The riveter is hamm'ring very loudly in your mind
You feel like punching in his face, but then you must be kind
So you live with the noise, in sorrow, until that fateful day
You open your ears, the riveter hears, and the wind blows him away.
The grit and dirt on the soles of your shoes are enough to make you cry
So scrape it off, throw in a pan and bake a filthy pie
But while the crust is bubbling don't forget to say a prayer
And thank the Lord for granting you the right to grow your hair

The sound
that escapes
from your mouth
as you talk
'bout your hair
over there
over where?
In the air
As you sigh
And you cry
Eat the pie
Then you die
Out the door
on the floor
don't get sore
gimme more
When you die
Eat the pie
that you made
from the dirt
on the soles
of your boots
marble poles
dig the roots

A lady baking muffins in her cottage on a hill
She baked eighteen and then she set them on her window sill
Then she walked into the living room, and man you sure can bet
That sitting on her window sill were eighteen muffins set

(a la Bachman Turner Overdrive)

Eighteen muffins set.
B-b-b-baby, there were eighteen muffins set.
Here's something, here's something that you never gonna forget
B-b-b-baby, there were eighteen muffins set
You ain't been around 'n' round 'n' round 'n' round 'n' round...

The song that you are listening to will be hist'ry in a week
And people will smile and laugh all the while and say that I'm a freak
But I know that while they're laughing, and having their afternoon drinks
They are the ones who are hopeless and lost, and I am the one who thinks
So right this very second I must say to all those folks
You'll soon be lost in a holocaust of Bacardi rum and Cokes
So you had better leave right now, and while you're at the station
You'll know exactly what to do with your imagination!
EAT IT!

(Remember the songs "Billy Don't Be A Hero" by Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods and "The Night Chicago Died" by [I think] Paper Lace? That's what this next bit is about.)

Sing a song of wrinkled shirts, wing a wong of mice,
To sing about Chicago's death will simply not suffice
And Billy's still a hero in the eyes of the nation's young
But some, like me, would take Bo D. and chisel off his tongue.
-Pest, aside!-

I never knew the quiet days could be the cause of knowing
And only when they told your tales would they see their pencils glowing
Only in a room overrun with gloom
Might you tell if the sun wasn't there
Left you glued to the food of your mind, the imagination.
Down and under, all around
Answering the silent sound
Only wondering how you return to the womb
Even though there isn't much room
Demean est guy you'll ever see
Is whoever you want him to be

Only a young man obsessed with rhyme
Would be "roses are red"-ing right now (at this time)
And though I'm not done yet, it's just fine to start
On some other song. I say from my heart
Though it's late, my mind's nearly as sharp as a dart
One must sacrifice to give voice to one's art
Which is exemplified by my actions tonight.
I see words in my head and it's shove at first sight
For they need gentle pushing to come out just right
I'm writing this thing, thanks to modern man's light-
without which I just couldn't see what I write.
'course I could light a fire...think of Abe Lincoln's plight!
But all that was changed with Ben F. and his kite
To which was appended a small tiny key
Or it might've been bigger. If it was, tell me.
The radio's not on, nor is the TV.
So I'm missing commercials. Oh golly. Oh gee.
I'm missing those ads about lemon and lime
How when blended together, these flavors are fine.

Come Mahavishnu, play it with Santana!
Play your guitar 'til your fingers turn red!
Don't feel restricted, play in any manna!
Play your guitar 'til ev'rybody drops dead!

When in doubt
If you need consolation
Come right out
Eat your imagination
You'll be glad you did. You I would not kid.
When it's gone
You can come right over
Use the john
Drive 'round in the Nova
You'll be glad you did. You I would not kid.
There's a world of people waiting there to greet you
They only want to shake your hand...they don't want to eat you
('less you want 'em to)
Shed all your phobias
Get off your ass and walk around
What I want you to show me is
You won't let anyone get you down

Time to go
The world is awaiting
Take it slow
It may be complicating
You'll be glad you did. You I would not kid.
Shed all your phobias
Get off your ass and walk around
What I want you to show me is
You won't let anyone get you down

Time to go
The whole wide world's awaiting
Take it slow
It may be complicating
You'll be glad you did. You I would not kid.
Transcendental meditation There in the United Nations Holy moly jubilation Eat your imagination
Transcendental meditation There in the United Nations Holy moly jubilation Eat your imagination
Transcendental meditation There in the United Nations Holy moly jubilation Eat your imagination
Transcendental meditation There in the United Nations Holy moly jubilation Eat your imagination
Transcendental meditation There in the United Nations Holy moly jubilation Eat your imagination
Transcendental meditation There in the United Nations Holy moly jubilation Eat your imagination
Transcendental meditation There in the United Nations Holy moly jubilation Eat your imagination
Transcendental meditation There in the United Nations Holy moly jubilation Eat your imagination
Transcendental meditation There in the United Nations Holy moly jubilation Eat your imagination


I LOVE HER ANYWAY (1975) I was 13

(Serious crush song. I had a serious crush on Jill in 8th grade and this was my very first serious crush song. I made the unimaginable mistake of bringing a guitar to school and playing it for her in front of her friends. You think we went out after that?)

I don't know what I've done
But she was the only one
That I would have wanted to fall in love with
I know that there's other guys
But looking through my eyes
Those guys aren't there, they're only a myth

I don't care, I love her anyway
I don't care, I love her anyway

She doesn't pay me a thought
I believe that the love that I've sought
For all of these years will not be returned
So I watch her from a distant place
You can tell from the look on my face
I'll never have the love for which I've yearned

I don't care, I love her anyway
I don't care, I love her anyway

The rumors, they get out of hand
They make fun of the love that I'd planned
And it is for that reason I fear her
Away from her I have shied
And right now it seems that I'd
Have to die for the right to be near her

I don't care, I love her anyway
I don't care, I love her anyway
I don't care, I love her anyway.


GRINS FROM GEORGIA (1975) I was 13

(This had very Broadway-like music to it which my brother hated, so even though I worked pretty hard on it I just stopped playing it after a while.)

Another then, another now
She wonders when, she wonders how.
Of all the times I've seen this girl
She's never been like this.
She lets her imagination whirl
Like a pinwheel on aluminum furl
And gives her pillow a kiss.

Today again, tomorrow then
The day awaits the searing fates
Who nose just where her mind might be
Perhaps another place.
She looks into a starlit sea
A silent ripple, hears her plea
To dance upon her face.

She tries to struggle on her own
To disregard the sounds well known
"Those rock stars really are a smashing bore."
But she keeps a sweaty T-shirt
Nigel Ollson threw out to her
During Elton John's last monstrous US tour!

C'mon now, Georgia Plumhead.
Give a little grin for the people like you.
You know you're not the only.
There's others just as lonely.
Miss Plumhead, give me a grin or two.

A kindly smile, she thinks a bit.
To smile a while, a bit of it.
How come she cries towards the moon
Looks not at anyone.
Perhaps the day will be here soon
When she will not be thought a goon
Miss Plumhead's had her fun.

A little here. A lot more there.
She drinks some beer, and combs some hair.
A little bit of help just might
Help her to find her way.
She may need coaxing through the night
And make sure that you coax just right
So she can face the day.

She's kind of freaky (I don't mind)
I think that we could find the time
To show her what she has to do to cope.
'Til she knows that she can make it
And she won't have any trouble
And she won't need any diet drinks or dope.

C'mon now, Georgia Plumhead
Show all the people that you're really cool
You know you're not the only.
There's others just as lonely.
Miss Plumhead, show me you're not a fool.

(I really start losing the narrative thread on the last few verses. I was determined to write a long song, so damn the content, full speed ahead.)

A sort of time, a pound of good.
You're looking fine, you know you should.
I wish that I could say the same
For all who look like her.
That's not too nice, she's not fair game
For even so, she's not to blame
For her looks, as it were.

She sings a song, it's not too long.
It's pretty bad. That's rather sad.
I wish she had a finer voice
Then someone might care less.
Then she could make a lot of noise
Regain some charm, and mainly poise
Perhaps she's not a mess.

Some confidence is what she needs
A bit of pride to sow the seeds
Only then will Georgia emerge, free.
When she breaks loose of the shackles
And she says "I've got my freedom"
And then without shame she can say "I'm me".

C'mon now, Georgia Plumhead
Give a little grin for the people like you
You know you're not the only.
There's others just as lonely.
Miss Plumhead, give me a grin or two.


THE REALM OF NATHARIUS (A PROGRESSIVE ROCK OPERA-1976)
I was 14

(This was a songwriting collaboration from my brother Marty and myself, never completed. We meant it, man. We were writing an opera. It was an allegory about our illustrious musical career up to that point. Here's the outline of the opera's structure:)

Ist Movement: Conception (instrumental)

2nd Movement: Renaissance

Can it be you or simply a vision of what I dream?
Exquisite powers, masterful grace to the very extreme.
I remember when you were a peasant
On the road leading to the present
You were often so frustrated you could just scream

You-you make the world feel good, you're making things right.
You bring us together and hold us in tight.
You're just what we need on a day like today.
When all the world's problems can lead us astray.

You made your debut doing card tricks in the square
But your assistant lacked drive and just didn't care!
So you told him that you would be leaving
Because of his sulking and grieving
And from that day on you were fully aware.

3rd Movement: Man Newly Ennobled

Now that life is looking good
You're doing things you thought you never would
Greater wisdom each and every day
"I must reach the top" is what you say
Though your reputation is not well known
You know you can get by on skill alone

A great artist is what you aspire to be
With use of your powers you shall find the key
The future you can tell for all but yourself
In that respect, you're just like everyone else
Though your reputation is not well known
You know you can make it on skill alone

Your first public showing was slightly premature
The next one will be better, of that you're sure
You practice daily, as much as you can
So something like that will not happen again
Though your reputation is not well known
You know you will make it on skill alone

4th Movement: Through Difficulties To Honors (intended to have vocals, no words ever written)

5th Movement: Still Higher (instrumental)

6th Movement: From the Least To The Greatest (words never written)

7th Movement: Alas, the Fleeting Years Glide On (instrumental, never written)


BOY, COULD SHE? (July 3 1976) I was 14
never set to music

(The basic vibe musically would have been like the theme to "The Bullwinkle Show"; the one with the flashing Broadway lights: "da da da daaaa DAAAA da da da daaa DAAAA etc.")

She'll amaze you! She'll astound you!
She'll take you by the throat and she will pound you!
In the ground! You won't believe her!
In fact until you meet her you will have a hard time even trying to conceive
Of the powers that she has!
You'd prob'ly have a spazz!
If you witness all the fitness
She possesses!
No one messes with her head!
She'll be a goddess when she's dead!
No more can possibly be said!
Unless you say some more instead!

Ever find one better in Peru-
Or one with Asian flu-
Or one who makes good stew...you couldn't.
Ever find one better in Peking-
Or one that doesn't sing-
Or doesn't know a thing...you couldn't.

She will freak you! She will floor you!
You could stay with her for years, she'd never bore you
To the core! You won't believe her!
In fact until you meet her you will have a hard time even trying to conceive
Of the things that she can do!
No one else can do them too!
They can't handle, hold a candle
To the rightness that is quite within her reach!
It hangs on her like a leech!
I'm not sure if she could teach
Her stupendous gift of speech!

Boy, could she talk.
Boy, could that girl talk.
Boy, did that girl know how to talk.

Talk to me. Squawk to me.
Say to me, "hey" to me.
Yell to me. Tell to me.
Scream at me. Mean at me.

She'll amaze you...(boy, could that girl talk!)

(I remember that the last "boy, could that girl talk" was supposed to sport the melody from the second phrase of the "Dragnet" theme.)


WISHFUL THINKING (1978) I was 16

(I had a crush on someone on high school [one crush of many] and wrote this. It had a lot of major seventh and ninth chords in it. What saddens me is I can't remember which crush inspired it anymore...probably Lynn.)

Here once again, I'm the weakest of men
To fall in love once more
For quite a long time everything seemed just fine
Until she (in her way)
Tore my feelings open
I'll just have to hope and see
If for once it's not just
Wishful thinking hurting me

(Sensitive enough? Wanna go out with me yet?)

What can I say? Seems like the twelfth time today
A girl's messed up my brain
Yet I know that she's the one to chase the clouds and let the sun shine
But still there's so much
Pain involved in waiting
I'll accept my fate and see
If for once it's not just
Wishful thinking hurting me

Bridge

It really wasn't that long ago
I was hurt by a girl that I thought I adored
I know I'm stupid, you don't have to tell me so
I get kicked when I'm down and I cry out for more
Now I go about my business, try to keep her from my mind
But she's a part of me I can't deny, she's with me all the time
She's everything to make me happy, what it takes to set me free
In a world that's full of madness, she's the only one for me

(I could never think of a good line there. My brother helpfully suggested "In a prairie full of cow chips, she's the only chip for me")

What good's a song? A book a thousand pages long
Couldn't tell her how I feel
I guess my life won't end if I find that I'm no friend of hers
But now the feeling's
Real and I can't bear it
Could she ever care for me?
Is this one more case of
Wishful thinking? Wait and see...

(I waited and saw. It was.)


GREAT DOING BUSINESS (June 6 1978) I was 16
never set to music

(A typical teenage song of mine, trying to put across some grand concept and not finding the words to make it. My brother Marty read it and put a question mark next to the title and the word "controversial" on the back.)

Give me the recipe
You fool, hand it to me
You're keeping it a secret
But I can take you where you want to be

Tell me the formula
Right now, stop playing games
I tell you I'm not evil
But still you think I'll run off naming names

My objective is only the good of mankind
At least of my family (and yours)
Don't look so frightened
I wouldn't touch 'em
Say hi to Rollo
He smashes five-foot thick doors

Tear down the barriers
That's right, let it all out
You're doing the correct thing
You're seeing now what business is about

Here is your thirty grand
Feels right, there in your palm

(Marty put an asterisk next to this line, meaning he liked it)

Could not have been more simple
And yet it took me hours to get you calm

Go home to your wife and your kids and your fish
Pack up for a long holiday
Maybe to Portland
Or to Australia
Listen, you've earned it
Great doing business, OK

Now he is gone
I've got the power
I've got it all

Earth to be mine
Within the hour
I've got it all

What's this you're saying?
No you can't have it
I want it all

Five hundred thousand?!
No you can't have it
I want it all

"Give me the recipe
You fool, hand it to me
You're keeping it a secret
But I can take you where you want to be..."

(The end...OR THE BEGINNING???!!!)


EXISTING (June 6 and June 20 1978) I was 16
never set to music

(Next to the title on this one my brother wrote "on Gilligan's Isle".)

At least I'm safe
Long as I'm here I won't be hurt
Haven't the slightest how long I'll stay
But you're hear with me
Only this helps me to the face today

(next to this line Marty wrote "violins")

And no-one knows
Maybe abandoned but doing fine
All of them wondering are we alive
It's almost funny
Sure is amazing that we both survived

And could it be true
What are a couple of citizens to do
Holding me closely and I'm thanking you
For having the foresight to be
Existing with me

A TV show to be made about us?
"Harry and Sue on the Island of Fates"
Smug in contentment, each other's trust
Wonder what's happening back in the States

At least we're safe
Long as we're here we won't be hurt
Haven't the slightest how long we'll stay
Getting to know you
Getting to know me, facing the day

And could it be true
Time passes quickly with each moment new
Giving us no cause to ever feel blue
I am so glad you can be
Existing with me

(This one's not so bad. I remember wanting to set it musically as though the melody were floating in a pool, maybe not unlike 10CC's "I'm Not In Love" but more oblique harmonically and rhythmically.)


I WOULDN'T LIE! (October 29 1978) I was 16

(The music for this one was really, really good. I hope I can find a version on tape.)

Oh these escapades
I endeavor to indulge
Don't mind me honey, it's just a phase
Give it some time it will all blow over

It's just a phase I'm going through, honey
It's just a phase I'm going through, honey

And in a week or two
I will be me with you
These words I say, holy socks, you know it's true
I wouldn't lie to you!

Even the men who don't doubt me doubt me now
Even the others, the other men doubt me as well
I'm such a doubted guy, of course the women
Doubt me an inordinate amount
Gosh it's so disillusioning, is there no faith? Sheez!

Come on dear, thirty dollars or so is not what they meant
Wouldn't whet their appetite, they told me
Told me, wouldn't even whet that of a flea.
A flea's appetite, rented a, rented a, rented a tent.

It's just a phase I'm going through, honey

Don't bother with that
It's not like they need it, they don't really
Here I am back again
You ready?


YOU MAKE EVERY DAY A NICER DAY (December 5 1978) I was 16

(This one was written for Becky Meza - yet another unrequited crush - when I was a senior in high school. A little while after I wrote it I made her sit next to me on the piano bench while I played it for her. The results were, to my great relief, not disastrous.)

There are times when I don't feel too good -
I know that I should, I wish that I could
But I don't - until I see you smiling at me
How could this be? I feel great suddenly

Anything that gets me down just floats away
Because you make every day a nicer day

Now and then too much pressure to face
The faster the pace, more rat-like the race
I see you and the pressure doesn't matter at all
My problems so small, I feel ninety feet tall

It's just impossible not to feel okay
Because you make every day a nicer day

I don't think that you realize just how much you mean to me
But is this love? For lack of a better word, I guess it could be
But labels are irrelevant, I only know one thing
I've never met another who could bring the joy you bring

I'm beyond all my sadness and fear
Just knowing you're near makes everything clear
And the thought of life without you is just too much to bear
You know that I care, please always be there

There's really nothing left for me to say
Except you make every day a nicer
You make every day a nicer day


PLASTIC BAGS CAN BE DANGEROUS (May 1 1979) I was 17

(Somewhere I've got a good version of this on tape; if I can find it I'll stick on one of the Tar Tapes CDs next year.)

Plastic bags can be DANGEROUS
Plastic bags can be so very DANGEROUS
Help me on with mine, my honey
I promise to help with yours
Give me time
Just a little time
To see what can be seen, to check out in between
Insofar as that you can be
Here and mine
Be so very mine
We'll try the rest, and you do our best

Plastic bags can be DANGEROUS
Plastic bags can be so very DANGEROUS, DANGEROUS

I know what you think
I know I know I know
You're thinking "wonder if he's a true blink"
You're thinking and you're wrong you're wrong you're
wrong...wrong...wrong...wrang...wring...wrung...wrooooongeeeninnitz.

Help me
Help
Help me
Help me on help me on help me on

But listen:
"I'm committing a sin!"
"Let us in! Let us in!"
"I'm committing a sin!"
"Let us in! Let"
"a sin! I'm committing"
"us in! Let"
"a sin! I'm committing"
"us in! Let"
"a sin! I'm committing A SIN!" "LET US IN!"


POSE CRABS first attempt (May 13 1980) I was 18

(This song and "Final Pages" both had really complex music which was insanely difficult to retrofit with comfortable sounding lyrics. Here's the first attempt at "Pose Crabs", structured as kind of a show tune.)

Background Vocals 1 and 2: There they are, here they come, there they are...

Lead: You can hear them (breathe) scream...

BV1: Are they from some planet?

BV2: A world not our own?

Lead: I think they've got a message or something
maybe it's important or something

BV 1 & 2: Life alone - (simultaneously): Lead: Something here -

Lead: must warrant the coming of these...

BV 1 & 2: Then why the hell are they so destructive?

Lead: ...THINGS...

BV 1 & 2: Life alone -

Lead: Ha! You're all so naive.

BV 1 & 2: But you can't make them leave!

Lead: There they are, here they come, there they are
I see them demolish my place of work

BV 1 & 2: Work!

Lead: Now I don't know where my next shirt

BV 1 & 2: Shirt!

Lead: is coming from, coming from.

BV 1 & 2: Dirty work shirt!

Lead: I watch 'em destroy all the schools where I went
Converting to smoldering long hours I spent
In pursuit of a means to become not a bent over

Lead and BV 1 & 2: slumming bum, slugging rum, humming dumb.

Lead: Red, they shine, with snappers clasping firm.

BV 1 & 2: But gentle.

Lead: After a day of this you can't blame me for being a little
drained...

BV 1 & 2: Why are you smiling?

Lead and BV 1 & 2: Why are WE smiling?

POSE CRABS second attempt (September 19 1981) I was 19

(Somehow it evolved from a horror story about interplanetary crabs to a tale about a guy who can't find anything to watch on TV. "39 Alive" is a reference to an ad slogan for channel 39 in San Diego, which was then the ABC affiliate.)

I noticed this morning as I perused my room
The color of the bedpost, the texture of the rug
I then wandered outward to sections of my house
Which doesn't have a rec room or the comfort of a spouse

What's on at five, 39 Alive, why it's a repeat
of a Donahue show, but wouldn't you know, I saw it last week

There's nothing in the freezer, the fridge is barren too
I found some stale Doritos, then spilled them on the rug
Back when I was in third grade, the teacher told a tale
In those days I believed it, now all my food is stale (I do like that line)

What's on at eight, well isn't this great, an Odd Couple I
haven't seen in six years, confirm my worst fears, the cable is out

God damn it!

Nothing is worse on a Saturday night then to stay home alone it just
doesn't seem right and especially when the damned cable is out and
there's nothing to read and I just wanna shout

I'm shaking on the corner, I'm running 'cross the street
I'd hoped that car would hit me but somehow he swerved by
I'm sprawled upon the sidewalk, I dimly see a man
He says "you're coming with me" as he grabs me by the hand

In the car I roll over and sigh, pretty sure I'm going to die

Stops at a house, and orders me out, and he speeds away
as I walk in the door. A head on the floor says "have a nice day"


THE FINAL PAGES first attempt (early 1980) I was 18

(I had two whacks at "Pose Crabs"; "The Final Page" required four. This first effort has words crossed out all over and copious notes from Marty.)

Here are the final pages
Broken locks on rubber cages
I can't see but I know anyway
Happy shouts and paper streamers
So long to creeps and screamers
Just a world I visit everyday

Here are the final pages
Can't remember what my age is
All too often, not quite soon enough
Big man but bigger wishes
From time to time it's all too vicious
Let me know in case the going's tough

(The next verse was completely crossed out but I can still read it.)

Got time to think it over
Stay right here or be a rover
Quite a decision, which way should I go
If I take off so be it
You can stay home and see it
On television.

(next to the scribbled-out verse is this replacement verse:)

Why are the people hissing
Feel that there's something missing
I can't tell them, must keep it to myself
White-faced and laughing mourner
Three behind every corner
I can smell them.

Here are the final pages
Stay back, I think that it's contagious
Even still, I'm feeling better now
I know but I don't show it
Sure hope I never blow it
All it takes is someone to show me how...

THE FINAL PAGES second attempt (May 25 1980) I was 18

words by Mike and Marty Keneally

(From the notes Marty made on the first draft, this version was eked out.)

Here are the final pages
Broken locks on rubber cages
I can't see but I know anyway
Open eyes and I'm arriving
Here from my deep-mind diving
Just a world I visit every day

Here are the final pages
Empty hearts on crowded stages
All too often, not quite soon enough
Little folks but bigger wishes
The giant ped comes down and squishes (Marty wrote that line)
Don't let me know when the going's tough

Green faced, the ride has quickened
Once again, I'm with 'em sickened
I can't tell them, must keep it to myself
White faced and laughing mourner
Three behind every corner
I can smell them

These are the Final Pages
Still no change throughout the ages
All they need is someone to show 'em how
Seen enough I'm going back
Back to where things are better
I feel better now, bye, see ya bye bye! See ya! Bye!

(I'm not too sure what happened at the end there)

THE FINAL PAGES third attempt (mid 1980) I was 18

words by Mike & Marty Keneally

(This version is rather streamlined.)

Pages
Cages
I Can't See But I Know Anyway
Streamers
Screamers
Just A World I Visit Everyday

Pages
Stages
All Too Often Not Quite Soon Enough
Stitious
Supervicious
Let Me Know In Case The Going's Tough

Larry
Harry
I Can't Tell Them Must Keep It To Myself
Mourner
Corner
I Can Smell Them

Pages
Rages
Even Still I'm Feeling Better Now
Hari
Kari
All It Takes Is Someone To Show Me How

FINAL PAGES fourth and final attempt (February 1 1982) I was 20

(Two years later I took the "the" out of the title and had one final crack at it. It bears little resemblance to earlier efforts.)

Eyes set close as quarters.
Primed and together, ready.
Known faith.
Dumb acceptance.
Dogs of night! Know your enemy.

Fish for compliments in owl spit.
Hair, shining, placed on shin.
Moustache-thin pencil wings furiously in quick phone bells griping
about image reversal pretensions.

Could you get that, I'm in the shower.
Men squint.
Squid mint.
Big bubbles? No troubles.
Average garter spills doom for clam's half-baked plan back.

Roughly thrown, I land on valise.
Incognito, a friend delivers towels.
Track me down and send shiver slivers of lead tear through my
tissue. Bleed.
Is that enough?
Close book, sleep.


TURN AROUND IT'S CHRISTMAS (November 18 1980) I was 18

(Never set to music. If I ever do, it's destined to become a holiday classic.)

Teeth all sparkle, lips all glow
Eyes a-flutter at this snow
Wind is wicked big woosh blow
Turn around it's Christmas

All your friends are fat with beer
With breath that smells of good fun cheer
We know the X-mas bunny's near
Turn around it's Christmas

Get out your holiday wallet
Any amount will do
"The thought's what counts" is what they say
Of course we know that's true

Wrap them well and place them there
'neath the tannenbaum with care
Everyone's happy as a bear
Turn around it's Christmas

Tuck in the cute little wee ones
Kiss them on the nose
Tonight each one will wet the bed
That's the way it goes

Crumpled wrappings hide the floor
Force a grin while children roar
Anacin is in the drawer
Say goodbye to Christmas


NOW YOU LAUGH (March 10 & 11 1982) I was 20

(This starts off fairly innocuous and abstract and suddenly gets all angry. I think there was some conflict in a band I was in at the time which inspired some of the lines.)

Mystery pebble
On a rock-hard expanse
Show your muse to me
Follow your mind
Reject the excuse
Drop the tragedy

I've made it this far; this is solitude
You've had the best luck you could have
We've shared the good things we both have accrued
And now you laugh

It was up in the air, now it's all too clear
Why should I put up with this shit
The pieces are thrown, the next thing I hear
Make it fit

Stumble and stagger
And fall on a dagger
That's no way to flow
Gather your past
'Cause you've seen my last
Make a wish and blow

And these are things which had to be said
I can tell your pride's broken in half
I've essentially said you can go and drop dead
Now you laugh


IN THE AIRPORT AT FIVE A.M. (June 25 1982) I was 20

(This was an attempt at capturing the mood suggested by the title; not particularly successful from my vantage, so the words were never used, but the music that they went on to inspire was included on the Tar Tapes, in two different versions, as "Airport". They'll be released on CD next year.)

It's not funny but it's true
Now the foot's in the other shoe
Walking slow down a fuzzy dim hallway
In the airport at five AM
You sure can hear your feet
There's no one there to meet
But you think about taking a trip
As you look at the departure screen
The muzak is soft and grey
You'd laugh in the middle of the day
But it's calming at five AM
The stars are clouds tonight
There's one bright star it seems
As a light in a plane window gleams
As you move for a better view
As you think you caught their eye
As a light in a window goes out
It's darkness, hope and doubt
And you marvel at the sky
The sounds you hear at night
You sit and rest awhile
You look down the hall and smile
And you close your eyes to dream
And the plane leaves the ground and flies
In the airport at five AM
There's peace in the airport at five AM


VAPID MUSIC (September 19 1982) I was 20
never set to music

(This one's pretty cute! I was still a big prog fan so these lyrics were meant to be ironic.)

Take the breath away
Do that one again
Bathe your brain
Feel profoundly empty as you ruminate upon the night's events at night in bed

No matter how sweet the taste
You know you've been fed nothing
You thought you had a great time
But you read how you've been stupid all along
Guilt consumes you

Rapid music
Vapid music
Tepid music
Decrepit music

Not for you the hollow slurp of the synthesizer
Avoid at all costs the willful unison line
Soaked in pretension lay the massive chords redolent
Of a symphony that the guy who wrote it may have
Heard in a movie soundtrack and thought it was pretty impressive Forget the words

Just last week you thought "terrific"
But you read it's soporific
Guilt consumes you

Rapid music
Vapid music
Tepid music
Decrepit music

Not for you the strangled web of polyrhythmic muck
Avoid at all costs the rank atonal bleatings
With condescension stay the insane devotion to
Pentameter which results in lines being padded
Only encouraging the listener to make a motion to
Forget the words

In days gone by you'd adore it
But you read it's sophomoric
Guilt consumes you

Rapid music
Vapid music
Just wanna rock and roll
O lord, just wanna rock and roll


WET IT (January 10 1983) I was 21

(This has a certain abstract charm. I may use some of it someday for something.)

Maybe you could tell me but maybe you won't
Maybe I amaze you but baby you don't
Maybe you could show me

I thought your body was lodged in the wall out of sight
I saw your face jutting out and it gave me a fright
Then your brother started laughing but I found it was no joke ho! ho!

Maybe there's less to the world than I'd initially thought
But don't upset my cart cart until the last apple's bought
If I hear anybody laughing my poor heart'll be
Poor heart'll be
Poor heart'll be broke broke broke broke

Whistle past the graveyard but don't wake anybody
Whistle while you work but keep your mind on what you're doing
Rough man play hard little man forget it
Your mind's dry as a whistle better wait!
Oh yes wait a

Maybe you could show me but maybe you won't
Why won't you show me
Why won't you show me

Broke broke broke broke
Ho! Ho!

Maybe there's more to you baby than there first met my eye
But if I'm right about your brother then I ain't gonna try
If I try anything my small head'll be
Small head'll be
Small head'll be broke broke broke broke

It's all so laughable the mort the merrier
Unphonographable it's better in sterrier
If that's your bottom dollar you better not bet it
Your mind's dry as a whistle better

Whistle past the graveyard don't you wake a wake up any ache a
Whistle while you work but don't you wander never wanna wanda
Rough man play hard little wimp forget it
Your mind's dry as a whistle better
wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it
wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it
wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it
wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it
wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it
wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it
wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it
wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it
wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it
wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it
wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it
wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it
wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it wet it


ORKIN WAZZELS (sometime in 1983) I was 21

(Lewis Carroll much? This is all I ever wrote of this one. It feels pretty done to me.)

The drett of the orkin wazzels crone.
Splightly, variedim flouse to beak the bone.
Crimson groon and mattlish kite.
Leaps o'er a zandoon shindoo the ight.
Corkling, a pupkin flops down by his mum.
Song of the Nonkertompf: hum hum hum!


NOT EVEN SLIGHTLY (July 3 & 4 1983) I was 21

(This one had really good doodles in the margin. Would you be kind enough to scan them, Scott? I don't have even the first idea of what I was thinking when I wrote this, but the stuff about dying too early is strange...this song was started on July 3; eleven years later to the day my dad died. July 4 was his birthday.)

Take to the earth and run
As large as y'are the fast you run
Running as fast as fun
Running this fast is fun
Ran to the first in fun
Fist of the fern...enough enough

Take me more lightly
Thru the past brightly
Hope you don't mind me
Not even slightly

The earth wants to run these days
But I'm right near a window
Writing right near a window
And I don't need glass inside
12:33 12:42 12:33 12:42 etc.
It's a little too early to die
But everyone likes to move
I feel kind of bad to tell earth not to

Hope you don't hope you don't hope you don't mind me
Is me thinking rightly
Not even slightly


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