Whale Music

Self Serve Gas Station
by Martin Tielli

Another trucker stumbles up the steps into my kiosk for directions,
Too wasted to see the map I'm showing him.
He wanted to bust the glass... 'cause I wouldn't give him gas--
I said, "You shouldn't even be driving.
Just take a nap until the morning time and hit the road."

I wish I had a pistol just to take him down with myself.
What the hell?
No one said this would be easy...
But no one said this would be hell.

Mom and Dad are selfless... and they don't do nothing worthless.
They just work all day and worry about their son:
"What went wrong with Martin? Is he dumb?"

I just pump gas ever weekday night
Until the sun comes up like missiles... to my brain.
You never said this would be hell.

Oh... with all the colors in closed eyes:
Blue and black of veins all bleed to one.
Come with me tonight... To say that this is anything
Is saying much too much.
Let's go.

I see the sun is bleeding.
The morning time has come... It's not that bad.
Oh, no.
No one said it would be king-like,
But no one said I could be had!

California Dreamline
by Martin Tielli

California dreamline.
Surfing on the big wave... It's quiet underwater.
As high as high can swing to... Carbonated tide pools.
It's quiet under water.

Questionable things like:
1. Dolphins helping people to swim.
2. Everything peculiar to me.
3. The people living under the sea
(Alone with their heartbeats, in love with each other).

Disillusioned porpoise... playing with the tourists.
Drinking beer and coffee...
Sand in my tequila... Senza mea scarpe.
Me and my friend Pablo... walk the beach... incognito.

... And don't say that we've got nothing to hide,
'Cause the law's got a rap on me...
There isn't a gun in Escondido.
... But I feel like I'm swimming, and things will work out anyway.

All the naked ladies... covered up by nothing.
Californication.
Spooning in the dry sand.
The sand that gets in everything
While men are pum-pum-ping iron.
Pom-pom-pom-pom-ping Aarron.
Sitting on the big fault.

Rain, Rain, Rain
by Martin Tielli

I'm feeling really down... today.
I'm feeling really... under the weather;
And it is no problem, or lack of pleasure.
It's just the weather.

Rain keeps coming down around,
And I can feel the... low pressure.
Whenever that it stops, it turns to ICE.
I'm feeling really down.

'Cause rain, rain, rain keeps coming down, down, down.
(Rain), rain, rain, rain, rain keeps coming down
On the ground.
Rain, rain, rain, rain, keeps coming down.
Rain, rain, rain.

Whenever it's like this... people
Always want to... pass the buck.
But I don't even give...
I'm feeling really...

I'm feeling really... guilty.
I'm feeling like I'm owing money,
But I don't even know anybody.

I'm feeling really down.

Queer
by Dave Bidini and Dave Clark

You woke the wrecking yard hounds
When you slammed the passenger side.
Father watched you from the yard
With his knuckles wrapped in ice.
Now the screen door is still broken
Since you kicked your Kodiaks through it.
But we left the Christmas tree standing
In case you turned around.

Now I've heard you've got a good job
Pitching had down in Salmon Arm.
Maybe I'll hike there from the coast
When the weather starts to warm.
K.D. called on the weekend;
She was crying on the telephone,
'Cause father said as far as he's concerned
You've been stricken from our home.

He's gone out of his head.
(She's gone out of her head.)
He's gone out of his head.
(She's gone out of his head.)
He's gone out of his head.
Sometimes choices aren't so clear.

Father raged like a soldier.
He put his fist through the kitchen door
When I said it would have been better if
You had split on your own accord.
I don't care about the damage,
But I wish you were there to see it
When I scored a hat-trick on the team
That called you a fucking queer.

Gonna find me another home.
The things you'll never know.
The things you'll never feel.
The things you'll never see.
The times you'll never know.

(I'm in the country now, among the rattlesnakes and the sage-brush. The concrete and asphalt and glass are gone, and in its place is well water and black spruce and gravel roads which snake and curl and wind through the valley. I wish you were here to watch the sun sneak above the mountains and play with the pure light across the farmland; it'll fuck your mind up. But I'm glad I'm here and not there. If I had stayed, I would've killed him. I would have come home and found him asleep on the couch, and walked up to him and pressed the gun against his head, and watched it explode in a glorious watercolor fountain, all thick and red and gory. I would have used it to paint the picture I'm seeing now.)

King of the Past
by Tim Vesely and Dave Bidini

Check your watch;
You're fourteen and more.
Here lies a road not travelled before.
Down in the cellar,
There's beer on your breath.
And up off the floor,
Did you let him explore?

Check your map.
You're Louis Riel.
He rode a horse before you were born.
Out in the flatland,
The money's all spent.
And out in the field,
Your fate has been sealed.

I'm the King of the Past, but still I walk forward.
Won't close my eyes to the passing of time.
I'm in Fredericton Northern where the rivers make borders,
But planes fly right over them.

Check your map,
'Cause you've lost your watch.
It's buried under snow; its time does not stop.
Find your way homeward.
The rivers are freezing.
And under the ice,
The borders are changing.

I'm the King of the Past, but still I walk forward.
I step over hundreds of years yet to come,
While the eyes in the back of my head draw no borders,
Just rivers that channel the rain.

(Chase them away.)

RDA (Rock Death America)
by Dave Bidini and Dave Clark

Someone said we sounded like the Replacements,
But we'd never be the Beatles or Byrds.
Someone said we shoulda stayed in the basement
Instead of littering our noise on the Earth.
But the dinosaurs are dying each day.
They're gonna wish they never got up to pray.

'Cause I don't need this, and I don't need that.
And I don't need this, and I don't need that.

All my cousins live here fat off the land.
I hear them lowing but I can't understand.
And in the line-up where their souls can be sold,
They've never heard of this Canadian band.
But the dinosaurs are dying each day.
They're gonna wish I never go up to play.

"Hey Dave!" What?!
"So you say you think that you've got the answer?"
I can't wait, gimme a break.
I'm rabbit p-p-punching but the skin won't break.

I'm gonna get a van and drive it to Graceland.
I'm gonna firebomb the crowd at the gates.
I'm gonna watch it from the back of the mansion.
I'm gonna dig him up and lie in his... grave.

Rock! Death! America!
Someone said we sounded like the Replacements.

The Headless One
by Tim Vesely

Try wearing my head over yours,
And see if it fits, then wear it.
Try taking my mind for a spin.
I'm Dr. Hyde while you're Tim.

No need to be scared of an accident.
I put the safety lock on.
I'll hang out at home for the day
While you lead my head astray.

Try me out and see what makes it better,
Makes it worse.

You're going to need the manual.
Well, I'll take it down and dust it off.
The pages have yet to see the day.
I give it all away.

I've laughed it off,
And now it's on your shoulders.

If only the world would rearrange
With the trading of brains
We're still the same.
You're looking just as strange.
I'm in the dark again.
And I'm passing it off to you.

I wish to remain just The Headless One,
Which means it's you who sings this song.
If I am to sing, I'll set my freedom.
I laugh it off, I'm laughing... HA HA HA HA.

Legal Age Life at Variety Store
by Dave Bidini

Well, legal age life at variety store,
Dealing in dope by the Exit door.
Waiting to work like a worm at the core.
Standing so long in the snow I'm sore.
I'm the king I am therefore
What kind of a fool am I?

Well, legal age life at variety store,
These are the things that make me roar:
Disco sux and so does war,
The meek shall inherit the Earth no more.
I'm the king I am therefore
What kind of a fool am I?

And each time I wake up I try to speak.
Well, I felt a cold river of tears upon my cheek.
And each time I wake up I feel so weak.
Dumbfounded.

Ah, legal age life at variety store,
Sticking my head through the passenger door.

What's Going On Around Here?
by Martin Tielli

What's going on around here?
What's going on around here?
When things got strange, when things get rough,
I get tough. What's going on?

80 tons/20 pounds:
Makes no difference when you're down.
If you're too free, just call on me.
I'll chain you down.
What's going on?

I won't tell you about the mountains,
Because there's nothing that gets through you.
I won't tell you about these feelings,
Because there's nothing that doesn't offend you.
There's nothing that doesn't offend you.

Another murder... has come to town.
It was that wasted... infested clown;
His baggy suit, his turned up frown.
Another clown. What's going on?

I won't tell you about the mountains,
Because there's nothing that gets through you.
I won't tell you about these problems,
Because there's nothing that doesn't offend you.
There's nothing that doesn't offend you.

Shaved Head
by Martin Tielli and Dave Bidini

The minute you shaved your head,
You ran for the mirror, but slipped in the clippings.
You sat in your nest... and cried like a baby would:
"Why am I, why am I wild and...
What is a what is a monster to do?
When your teeth are so new and your tongue is for licking?"

Spent, you fell down to the floor... And dopey,
You giggled, rolled sideways, and turned on the stereo;
White noise on the radio felt like a weird movie.

... And I am and I...
That's such a happy way to be.
Me, I can do it? How 'bout you?

You made sure the door was not open.
You made sure the blinds were all closed,
Gathered up pillows and took off your clothes.

Each piece that fell to the floor.
Each piece that showed a bit more of your skin.
Lay back to your bed... so touched to the cool sheets.

... And I am and I...
That's such a lonely thing to cry.
Me, I can do it? How 'bout you?

The minute they shaved my head,
I asked, begged, to let me a minute more to breath.
My days are my lungs, but my love for you is
E n d l e s s .

(Pray for me and Joy.)

Palomar
by Tim Vesely

There he is on the top of a mount
Sharing biscuits with his dog
(Meaning "he" in the general sense of the word,
As he is all of us here).
And his dog asks him why he's alone,
He replies, "Well, I'm with my friend.
Or are you leaving me to join in the blur?
'Cause I don't need you around."

Palomar,
What's wrong? Where'd your dog go?
"Well, he's gone for fresh meat and supplies.
'Cause he's done this before."

He arrives in town an hour later,
As he's much quicker on four legs than Pal is on two.
He takes his usual spot out back of the butcher shop,
Waiting patiently for closing time.
Meanwhile back on the mount,
Palomar is cleaning his lenses with saline waters.
He reassembles his kaleidoscope,
And waits patiently for dog.

Palomar,
Why not... take this chance
To reflect on things that you done did
And make it better?
Why don't you just try without asking why?

What could be better than a room with a view
And a lovely little doggie to share it with?
"When he gets back we will share in our meat.
There's always something good to eat."
(Mmmm.)
So let's leave him alone in his observatory,
Rejoin the little dog in our story.
He's run off with some cur who's bearing his pups.
That's the last of his tale.

Palomar,
What's wrong? Where'd your dog go?
Well, he's gone for good,
And that goes to show you
That love is thicker than brains in a man
Or a dog.
It's the same thing.

Guns
by Dave Clark

You take a gun and shoot an animal. Say like your neighbor or a squirrel. Safe to say that at any one time both can be spotted in the locale and struck down with ease. You can rest easy in knowing that the pencil rains will lodge in the target you shot at, and maybe even in some stuff you didn't shoot at.

Neat.
Stupid.
Disgusting.

You can take this recipe to the bank and put it in a long-term deposit, because the results are always guaranteed:

1. Some goof produces said weapon from a factory.
2. Some goof owns a store that peddles death.
3. Some goof buys the power toy.
4. Said last goof gets a novel idea.
5. Someone, not necessarily a goof, dies.

Guns.

Sickening Song
by Martin Tielli

Sing me a sickening song.
Make it last long.
I am only beginning
To understand what makes it wrong,
What makes it strong;
Septically speaking.

Second step down from the top...
Then I must stop,
Look down, and consider
IT.
What would I break should I drop?
Fell from the top,
When I'm only beginning...

And try, something wrong
Is going to happen
By the end;
So to come by the end of this song,
So make it last long.
I am only beginning.

I can't stop writing punk rock,
Because I am stuck... in a ghetto of folkies.
If something as dumb comes along,
Please give me some,
'Cause this isn't the 60's.

And try something new
Is going to happen
By the end;
By the end of this song,
So, please give me some,
I am only beginning.

Oh, come by the end of this song,
Please give me some.
I am only beginning.

Soul Glue
by Tim Vesely
first two chori by Martin Tielli

Two minds made him go.
One said, "Swim,"
Said the other, "No way."
There's no unity when one side grows.
What's on the other side of the water?
Only Benjamin Heyward knows.

And they didn't say nothing 'bout calling the police.
(And) they didn't say nothing 'bout calling the cops.

(To the papers 'bout holding...)
And they didn't say much about anything at all.
At all, at all, at all.
(At all, at all, no way.)
(At all, at all, to me.)

They dragged the bottom of the lake.
Then they swore not to repeat that mistake.
One side they buried in the ground.
The other side they stapled up in public
For everyone to execrate.

"Sorry, Sergeant Soul Glue,
I appreciate your help.
I admit I'm guilty,
I am dead."

And they didn't say nothing 'bout calling the police.
And they didn't say nothing 'bout calling the cops.
(To the papers 'bout holding...)
And they didn't say much about anything at all.
At all, at all, to me.

Hey, hey, hey. My soul glue...

Beerbash
by Dave Bidini

(Hey, everybody, David's gonna sing a song right now for all you kids...)

Everyone out here, dear, is rocking tonight.
And they're all rocking out 'cause it's cool.
But someone I know is at home losing hope,
Thinking how far he'll fall
And with what length of rope.

Well, everyone out here, dear, is crawling the floor.
And they're all getting worked up like never before.
But someone I know is at home losing hope
For the people he once called his friends.

"All I want is over.
'Cause, every little thing you bitched about came true."

Everyone out here, dear, is silent tonight.
'Cause they all knew he would go,
But they didn't think tonight.
And he sent them a message they'll never live down.
And he sent them a note that went something like this:

"Well, everyone out here, dear, should stop it right there,
Till someday they learn to use their brains for more
Than: `How many two-fours can you fit in a trunk?'
And `How many beer is that apiece?'"

Everyone out here, dear, is rocking tonight.
And they're all rocking out 'cause it's cool.
But you're far away where the Indians pray
On the steps of the Winchester Arms.

(I'm from the family of rock!)

Who?
by Tim Vesely

Someone keeps repeating what I say
One hundred years before it's said.
It doesn't make me feel good.
That same someone scored a goal
When I put the puck in the net,
And I'm still shut out while he's leading the league.
Who?

Is this someone?
I find out, I'll make him pay.

Meanwhile, I will patent all my moves.
I'll write them down here in my book.
I'll have a record there.

Hey there! Mr. Justice,
I have brought unto you a book
In which I document myself in many ways.
"Hey there! Mr. No One,
I have recognized this writing as my own,
And you have forged it as your own."
Who?

When I get out of forger's prison,
I will be on record as having done
Something on my own.

I'm looking slightly less than visible today.
I think and therefore I am enslaved.
My little book of verse is words and thoughts of ages
Of accidents like me.

Someone keeps repeating what I sing
One million years before it's sung.
Well, it doesn't make me feel good.
Who? Who? Who?

Dope Fiends and Boozehounds
by Dave Bidini, Martin Tielli, and Janet Morassutti

The sixth sense of memory
Runs a river near a road
That travels up the parkway,
Getting frozen in the snow
Where what you see is what you see is what you see...
And only some will know
Where the ragged people go.

Where the boozehounds, they bay,
By the banks of the reservoir.
Crows climb higher
From their old familiar yard.

The best thing in heaven
Is supposed to be the sun
That shines between two mountains
And melts the Devil's gun,
But what you see is what you see is what you see...
And only some will know
Where the ragged people go.

Down here on Kipling,
Where the streetlamps light the way, hey,
There's talk of a reunion
Of the ones who didn't stay.

Why didn't they stay here
And help me shovel the walk?
(Why didn't they stay here?)

Sick sense of melody
Is what I hear when I'm alone.
And I love it more than misery,
And I love it more than home,
And I cry 'cause I'm not with it,
Even though I've never been...
Where the dope fiends laugh
And say it's too soon,
They all go home and listen to
The Dark Side of the Moon.

(No Matches, No Fire)
by Martin Tielli

No matches. No matches.
No fire. No fire.
No matches!