Discography

     11:11 (2001)
     Songs (2002)
     Soviet Kitsch (2004)
     Begin to Hope (2006)

Love Affair

There was a love affair in this building
The kind of love affair
Which every respectable building must keep as a legend
Slowly festering through an innocent "by the way"
Or "have you heard"
He was perfect except for the fact that he was an engineer
And mothers prefer doctors
And lawyers

Yet despite this imperfection
He was clean-looking and respectable-looking
And you'll never find a mother
Who doesn't appreciate a natural man
So he grew healthy aloe vera plants by the window
Healthy teeth in his mouth
Healthy hair on his head
He grew healthy wavy brown hair on his head
The kind, the kind that babies always go for
With sticky little fingers

Rejazz

Thought I'd cry for you forever
But I couldn't so I didn't
People's children die and they don't even cry forever
Thought I'd see your face in my mind for all time
But I don't even remember what your ears looked like

And the clock still strikes midnight and noon
And the sun still rises and so does the moon
Birds still migrate south and people move on
Even though I'm no longer in your arms
Thought the mountain would crumble
And the rivers would bend
But I thought all wrong and the world did not end
Guess the maps will just have to stay the same for a while
Didn't even need therapy to rehabilitate my smile
Rehabilitate my smile

Thought I'd cry for you forever
But I couldn't so I didn't...

Back of a truck

She lifted the monument in her monumental arms
She was the Mother Superior with her carry-on luggage charms
She was this androgynous powder nosed girl next door
She had eaten her dog and she was back for more
Back for more, back for more
Oh she was back for more, some more, yes please, some more

Her gym teacher thought himself a sweat-socked demi-god
And her geraniums thought themselves an alien pod
And her front porch gave way beneath the classified weight
And when an ambulance came they said it's much too late
Oh it's much too late, oh it's much too, much too late
Oh it's much too late, how late? Very late, too late.

Now the people of New Guinea and the people of L.A.
Have been penpals for years cause they both hate ballet
Only the pandas and bears have made a clean get away
But the news bulletin claims it is gonna be okay
Now Miss Lucy had a sweat shop where the immigrants work
Problem was they all turned to pumpkins at the 12 o'clock stroke
Promptly confiscated by police precinct number X
That was when alien geraniums entered into a fight
No violence, of course, no violence, no violence, of course
Hey no violence, of course, of course, why yes, of course
I mean, I mean, of course, why yes, of...of course

Here the story gets hazy and the hair gets too long
And the T.V. gets quiet as I hear a real bad song
The mothers get whiskey and the girlfriends get tongue
And there's a back of a truck selling smoke free lungs
And there's a back of a truck selling alien pods
And there's a back of a truck selling game show hosts
And there's a back of a truck selling the souls of the dead
And there's a back of a truck selling crumb free bread
This is New York!
Now there's a back of a truck selling the back of a car
And there's a back of a car selling road way maps
And there are road way maps selling a back of a head
Hey how much for that back of a head, man?
Hey wait a minute, hey wait a minute
Wait a minute that's...wait a minute that's my back of a head
Hey you can't sell that, man, that's my back of a head
Hey, hey sell it back to me, man, sell it back to me
Hey it's, it's my m-m-m-m-m-m-mine

She lifted the monument in her monumental arms
She was the Mother Superior with her carry-on luggage charms
She was this androgynous powder nosed girl next door
She had eaten her dog and she was back for more
She had eaten her dog, D-O-W-G
She had eaten a dog, d-d-dog, d-d-dog, dog, dog, dog
She had eaten a...eaten a...eaten...eaten her...ooooh
Mmmmmm...mmmm...mmm
Ohhhh...ohhh....ohhhh
Ooooh....ooooooh...ooooh
Some more, yes please, some more
Some more, yes please, some more

Buildings
He was a husband who drove his wife home drunk from the parties
He was a husband who drove his wife home
And in the car he would gently lean her head on the side door window
And in the bathroom he would hold her hair back and hope, saying;

They build buildings oh they build buildings oh they build buildings
So tall these days

And in the morning she'd wake up and crouch recollections all day
But she would always always wake up the next morning
And he'd take one look at her a say baby that's ok
And her conscience would issue yet another last warning, saying;

They build buildings oh they build buildings
Oh they build buildings
So tall these days

And she would ask for time
And she'd ask for time
And she would ask for time
And she would beg for time,
And she would beg for time
And beg for time and call it a gift
And he would give her time
And he'd give her time
And he would give her time
And he'd give her time
But time is not given and time is not taken
It just sifts through its sift

And it was coffee and coffee and coffee
And coffee and coffee and coffee some more
He'd go to work and she'd take a sick day and rot at the core
And by the time he came back
She'd scrub the bathroom and make it smell like pine
It would be almost as if nothing had happened
And he'd give her time, saying;

They build buildings, oh they build buildings, oh they build buildings,
Oh don't they build buildings, oh they build buildings,
They build buildings so tall these days

And she would ask for time
And she'd ask for time
And she would ask for time
And she would beg for time,
And she would beg for time
And beg for time and call it a gift
And he would give her time
And he'd give her time
And he would give her time
And he'd give her time-
But time is not given and time is not taken
It just sifts through its sift

He was a husband drove time home pine scrub bathroom window
Don't they build buildings so tall these days...

Mary Ann

Miss Marry Ann
Kept her man
In porcupine gloves, in porcupine gloves
And on that day
As scheduled
They made porcupine love, porcupine love

So stiff and stuck and prickly
He came in and then back out quickly
But lord not any quicker than according to plan
Like a soldier, one foot in front of the other

Miss Marry Ann
Had a man
Named Stan, Stan Buttler
He had no antlers
He had no center
He had no enter and he had no exit

His hair was short and prickly
He came in and then back out quickly
But lord not any quicker than according to plan
Like a soldier, one foot in front of the other

And how he loved her apple pies,
How he loved her meat loaf,
How he loved her chicken breasts,
How he loved her pudding,
Served promptly at eight o'clock,
Served promptly at seven
Served promptly at ten o'clock,
And promptly at eleven heaven

Miss Marry Ann
Kept her cans
In alphabetical order
Miss Marry Ann
Began to have
Some thoughts of murder

Miss Marry Ann
Started to think
Real hard about her future
Miss Marry Ann
Preferred her meat
To be freshly butchered

Oh she killed him rather quickly
Man that woman was truly sickly
But lord not any sicker than according to plan
Like a soldier, one foot in front of the other

And how he loved her apple pies,
How he loved her meat loaf,
How he loved her chicken breasts,
How he loved her pudding,
Served promptly at eight o'clock,
Served promptly at seven
Served promptly at ten o'clock,
And promptly at eleven heaven

Miss Marry Ann
Kept her man
In porcupine gloves, in porcupine gloves
And on that day
As scheduled
They made porcupine love,
Porcupine lo-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-apchu!

Wasteside

I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow
But its better than sleeping by the wasteside of today
All the barbershops and funeral-homes were open
And the customers were coming and the business was doing great

I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow
Just dreaming dreams and drooling on my bed
All the people in my town would be born
Then they'd get themselves a little hair cut
And then promptly after they'd be dead

I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow
When a drunk girl awoke me on the train
But I did not see her stumbling and I did not hear her mumbling
As I dubbed myself a passenger
And kindly stepped away

I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow I was sleeping
I was sleeping I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow
I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow of tomorrow
Ladies and gentlemen
I was just sleeeeee-ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow
But it's better than sleeping by the wasteside of today
All the barbershops and funeral-homes were open
And the customers were coming and the business
Was
Doing
Great...

Pavlov's Daughter

The grave diggers getting stuck in the machine
Picking getting slim, slimmer
I hear them say my name
Regin-ah, regin-ah, regin-a-ah

Yes I'm putting the boulder to my ear
And I still can't hear
Whadya think I was an amateur
Playin' with my temperature...

If I hear another song about angels
If I see another feather on the dumb-box
I'm gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskey
Gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskey now...
If I hear another song about angels
If I see another feather on the dumb-box
I'm gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskey
Oh get me some whiskey, get me some whisky, get me some whiskey now

My name is Lucille and I know how you feel
I live downstairs
I hear you taking out your garbage
I hear you loving your girlfriend
I hear you loving yourself too
I hear you flushing your toliet
I hear you turning your thoughts off
I turn mine off too
The only thing I hear is you
And you don't sound nice and you don't sound right
And you don't sound good and you don't sound right

My name is Lucille and I know how you feel
I live downstairs
I hear you taking out your garbage
I hear you loving your girlfriend
I hear you loving yourself too
I hear you turning your thoughts off
Oh, I hear you turning your thoughts off
And it get's quiet...

Pavlov's daughter woke up in the morning
Heard the bell ring
And something deep inside of her made her want to salivate
So she lay there drooling on her pillow
So she lay there, the sun skimming her skin,
And, and...drooling on her pillow
Pavlov's daughter
And it was far away and hazy like a dream
Not a dream, not a dream,
But the ocean, not the ocean,
But forever...

The grave diggers getting stuck in the machine
Picking getting slim, slimmer
I hear them say my name
Regin-ah, regin-ah, regin-a-ah

Yes I'm putting the boulder to my ear
And I still can't hear
Whadya think I was an amateur
Playin' with my temperature...

If I hear another song about angels
If I see another feather on the dumb-box
I'm gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskey
Gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskey now...
If I hear another song about angels
If I see another feather on the dumb-box
I'm gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskey
Oh get me some whiskey, get me some whisky, get me some whiskey now

My name is Lucille and I know how you feel
I live downstairs
I hear you taking out your garbage
I hear you loving your girlfriend
I hear you loving yourself too
I hear you turning your thoughts off
I hear you turning your thoughts off
And I turn mine off too
The only thing I hear is you
And you don't sound nice and you don't sound right
And you don't sound good and you don't sound right

My name is Lucille and I know how you feel
I live downstairs
I hear you taking out your garbage
I hear you loving your girlfriend
I hear you loving yourself too
I hear you turning your thoughts off
I hear you turning your thoughts off
It get's quiet...

As quiet as an ambulance checking out the neighborhood,
Waiting for the blade to slip and that final blow,
But nothing happens, it's a cruel joke
As ironic as a ticker tape parade over the rain forest,
As ironic as a ticker tape parade over my head,
As ironic as a ticker tape parade over my head
Going down stream...
To where...it isn't... even... real...rain... at...all...

2.99 Cent Blues

Somewhere far away where I roam
There live my buffalo twin in our twin buffalo home
He calls me by my native name
And takes good care of my native son
He even lets us drink spring water on Sundays 2.99 a gallon

And somewhere further down the road where I also roam
There lives my caterpillar cousin beneath a fancy engraved tomb head stone
In the middle of his southern town
Beneath a cemetery burial plot
He don't pay rent no more
But he sure likes the spot

But in the furthest place I've ever known
Where even I so rarely roam
There lives a boy who just come back from war
His flesh was wounded but he made it back home
His mother calls him by his given name
And the neighbors whisper how he prefers to be alone
And he gets nightmares about boys dripping blood sold for 2.99 a gallon

But when I get me all real tired
And I got no more strength to roam
I catch me a horse driven carriage ride
From a local man named Ethan Frome
He don't say much as he tips his hat
And he carries his body as heavy as lead
And he could have been flying through the snow on his sled
But he wife was in bed and the horses had to be fed
Besides it's 2.99 a story
Pay up it's just 2.99 a story...
2.99 a gallon

Braille

She was lying on the floor and counting stretch marks
She hadn't been a virgin and he hadn't been a god
So she names the baby Elvis
To make up for the royalty he lacked

And from then on it was turpentine and patches
From then on it was cold Campbell's from the can
And they were just two jerks playing with matches
Cause that's all they knew how to play

And it was raining cats and dogs out side of her window
And she knew they were destined to become
Sacred road kill on the way
And she was listening to the sound of heavens shaking
Thinking about puddles, puddles and mistakes

Cause it's been turpentine and patches
It's been cold, cold Campbell's from the can
And they were just two jerks playing with matches
Cause that's all they knew how to play

Elvis never could carry a tune
She thought about this irony as she stared back at the moon
She was tracing her years with her fingers on her skin
Saying why don't I begin again
With turpentine and patches
With cold, cold Campbell's from the can
After all I'm still a jerk playing with matches
It's just that he's not around to play along
I'm still an ass hole playing with candles
Blowing out wishes blowing out dreams
Just sitting here and trying to decipher
What's written in Braille upon my skin...