Songs from PopCanon's 1999 album d'art

Things About Which

I was worried you were losing faith in my tattoos.
We had a quarrel that I thought I'd solve
With cigarettes & booze.
The things we quarrel about . . . I mean
The things about which we quarrel.

I was cleaning up our room removing all my things 'cos
Your mom was coming &
She thinks I live in High Springs.
With Mike Rotolante & some other guy named Ned --
I put all of my things out in the garden shed.

You were worried that I wouldn't like your family.
We had a quarrel that you thought you'd solve
By breaking the TV.
The things we quarrel about . . . I mean
The things about which we quarrel.

I was running down our road removing all my clothes.
Your mom was coming &
What she thinks now, goodness knows.
'Cos I was naked in the middle of the street
& when she drove up she stared right at my . . . feet.

I was worried that your mom would never give me peace.
We had a quarrel that she thought she'd solve
By calling the police.
The things we quarrel about . . . I mean
The things about which we quarrel.

Impossible

You might say that it's impossible
To have an original idea
But we're so freakin' postmodern, baby
We don't even try, dear.
(there is no try)

I had this dream that I sang this song to the white queen (In Wonderland)
And in this dream, I believed ten impossible things before breakfast

You might say that it's impossible
To believe in things you know aren't true
But I thank my magic Jesus nightly
That there's no hell to send me to.
(there is no hell)

I had this dream that I sang this song to the red queen (In Wonderland)
And in this dream, I believed ten impossible things before breakfast

You might say that it's impossible
To think of a word that rhymes with orange
But check your unabridged rhyming dictionary
Nothing rhymes with orange
(there is no rhyme)

I had this dream that I sang this song to the white queen (In Wonderland)
And in this dream, I believed ten impossible things before breakfast.

See You

      I can see a sun in summertime
      And a mirror in the night
      I can feel a gaze defining my sight.

There's not a reason for believing or not believing
But I can see right through...

      There's a quiet that comes over me
      And a stillness sometimes
      I wonder should I call it sublime
      Or just say...

There's no reason for believing or not believing
But I have seen right through:
And I have seen nothing.

(Davis/Bill Stevenson)

Arthole (I'm An Artist and You're An Asshole)

      I'm an artist and you're an asshole.
      I'm an artist and you're an asshole.

I'm an artist -- Come on, say the word
I'm an artist, and you're a floating turd.
I'm an artist, and you're such a fool:
You were in college while I was in art school.

      I'm an artist and you're an asshole.
      I'm an artist and you're an asshole.

I'm an artist, and you're a piece of shit.
I make a painting and you buy it.
I'm really handsome when I cum
But when you do, you look really dumb.

      I'm an artist and you're an asshole
      I'm an artist, asshole.

(PopCanon/Tim Moran)

Make Reference

I fantasize that I could drink some wine
With Martin Heidegger and Willard Quine
And the conversation's intense -
It makes reference.

chorus

This song will never be in the top forty
Unless the chart was made by Richard Rorty
And even though that doesn't make sense
It makes reference.

chorus

Every year I send a valentine
To the philosopher [Luther Ludwig Wolfgang] Wittgenstein,
And somehow it never gets sent.
There's no referent.

chorus

Hangin' with Loc and Young MC
Bustin' a move on a Fake Lady
And then we listen to the Fresh Prince:
He makes reference.

Mina Loy

A friend of Stein, I used turpentine
To find her under a painted tainted verse
Defined by Boxer, they could not outfox her
She paved the road on her own

Modern T.S. Eliot in the ring
Marianne was chosen--frozen--by the king
Loy was not Moore so she's banished
Writing, painting, sculpting, building everything
Mina's the new woman and she's here to sing
I alone am here unvanished

Looking for geniuses, found only penises
A miner under the subconscious archives
She didn't write what's deemed as right
'The Letters of the Unliving'
Withhold your reference, upon my preference
Lost Lunar Baedecker shines

Mina she designed for Guggenheim
The Calla Lilly lamp
Where is the space in Mina's case
Under a chair by Duchamp

Mina Mina Mina Mina Loy
And her and her and her and her coy koi
Gave blood today under a chair

No boy toy is Mina Loy!!!

Owed To A Weasel

:chorus:
With all the fallacies before us,
Will we ever get to the chorus?
It's just as well if we don't because
No one would be able to tell
Without some of your insight,
'Cos you're on the inside of it all.

Your knowledge of Nietzsche is peachy
But a pointless point of your attacks.
If I'd given you a penny for your thoughts
I'd want my money back.
You hyponotize them with your Latin
And order up a round of Manhattans.

chorus

I can see that you've got issues.
Do you need to borrow a tissue?

chorus

Hey Hey Hey (We're A Klezmer Band!)

(solos, etc.)

Ballyhoo

{Commissioned by the University of Montevallo (AL) Philosophy Club, April 1999 -- and winner of Honorable Mention in the New Jersey Humanist Network's Secular Humanist Original Song Contest, February 2001!}

Q: If you're gonna have faith, do you really need reason?
A: No, no... no, no.
Q: Then what're you gonna use to convince me to believe?
A: I don't know... I don't know.

I've been thinkin' about this little philosophic riddle
There ain't no reason to be found when you're standin' on holy ground.

:chorus:
Halleloo, Ballyhoo!
Halleloo, Ballyhoo!
Halleloo, Ballyhoo!
Hallelujah!

Q: Well, say aren't you afraid of hell?
A: Hell? No, sir...okay well maybe.
Q: I think that fear would serve you well.
A: Yes, sir. Whatever you say.

I've been thinkin' about this little philosophic riddle
Please don't have a sacred cow because I'm holier than thou.

chorus

Q: Say, what do we really use from science?
A: E=mc2.
Q: Are reason and faith an unholy alliance?
A: I don't know and I don't care.

I've been thinkin' about this little philosophic riddle
There ain't no reason to be sound when you're standin' on holy ground.

There ain't no reason,
There ain't no reason,
There ain't no reason,
When you're standin' on holy ground.
(repeat until divinely inspired, or for 16 bars, whichever comes first)

chorus

Hallelujah!

I've Got A Theory

I've got a theory, and I think it's not a bad one --
I couldn't sleep until I had one.
Since this happened I've been getting on fantastically
And my life has changed so drastically.

There's no restrictions, no constrictions... Everything is free.
No distractions - satisfaction's always guaranteed.
I'm feeling rather giddy like a little girl I'll scream.
I'm moving fast, but it can't last I'm running out of steam.

I've got a theory, but it's not a very good one --
I guess I've never understood one.
Since this happened everything's been a catastrophe,
And my life has changed so drastically.

I've been making lists and keeping distance from the crowd.
In my empty room now everything is much too loud.
Exponential existential crises all around.
I try to shout, open my mouth, but I don't make a sound.

I've got a theory, and I think it's gonna change things --
I've been doing lots of strange things.
I haven't felt this way since I was last anaesthetized.
But I'm much safer than you realize.
I'm much saner than you realize.
I'm much safer than you.

Ironica

When he was born he cried just, just like a little baby;
A fact made more ironic by the fact that he really was one.

He lived a life like you or me, but he lived his life with irony.
"Doing" all the "things" that "we" all "do," he lived a life like me or you
(or you, or you, you, and you, but not you)

[somewhat improvised rap, but here's how it usually goes:]
Hey everybody my name is Don -- listen to me my name is Don
I've got a rap that I'd like to tell -- please listen to this rap that I tell
to you.

It's the story 'bout a man ironic -- he lived a life that was really ironic.
He did everything inside quotation marks -- everything he did was in quotation marks.

He met a girl that he liked a lot -- she asked if he liked her and he said "Really 'a lot.'"
No, I mean it. "Seriously" -- "I" "Love" "You."

[saxophone solo:]
D D D, DCBABCB, DCB, CBG, BGE-F#-E-C#....
[F/B/bB multi]. D-C, [high]F#-G-F#, D-D, CBF#G#F#EbBb[low]Bb[high]G#(8va).
[skronk]

I'll never be free of you, that's why I said 'I love you.'
When I said you smelled like monkey jism, I meant it as a euphemism.
(euphemism, euphemism, monkey jism?)

When he was born he cried just, just like a little baby.
And when he died he was just as quiet as the dead are.

shh...
shh...
ssh

CaliMariAchi

I once dreamed of squid and coins
And youth in a foreign land.
I threw out my couch and joined
A swell mariachi band.

(Davis/Paul Miller/Bill Stevenson)

Lights Out

I was on the death seat with the Night Train.
You made me steer while you wiped off the windshield's rain.
We were listening to the Misfits and playing with knives.
I couldn't get your clothes off to save both of our frail lives.
And even though I wanted to, I couldn't 'cos I always knew
You would punch my lights out if I tried...

      ...Tried to make it easier to take ourselves for granted.
      The day your airplane landed,
      I dropped you at the airport
      And instead of saying anything I let you take off on that big wing.

After all this time, you'd think that I would be over it
But every morning I wake up and I rediscover it.
If I carry a torch or two, I hope that that doesn't bother you.
You can punch my lights out if you like.
If you like, if you like...

The Composition: BrainStröll

All songs written and performed by PopCanon, except where noted. All songs copyright © 1995-2000 PopCanon.
Recorded during 1998-1999 and produced by Mike Rotolante & PopCanon.

Last modified: Fri 16 Feb 2001 11:25:54 EDT