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Information is not knowledge, knowledge is not wisdom, wisdom is not truth,
truth is not beauty, beauty is not love, love is not music. Music is the best.

(Frank Zappa, "Joe's Garage")

The Malkie Blues: or, "What Mouse?" (summer? 1997)

This mad lady jumped me in an alley one night
She sucked out my blood, which felt all right
But now I am crazy, I cannot think straight
I can't even rhyme--see what I mean?
I got the Malkie, Malkie, Malkie, Malkie blues
At first I thought it might be a good skive
But everyone treats me like I'm not even alive
They think 'cause I'm screwy means I'm stupid too
Who the hell cares if I wear a tutu
I got the Malkie, Malkie, Malkie, Malkie blues
Nobody likes me, at least I think so
But I also think my thumb is named Moe
I chopped down a tree, it made a big thud
The moon rose up high and potato chips
I got the Malkie, Malkie, Malkie, Malkie blues
I stole your hat and I hanged your cat
So tell me how you love me now.


Joe Mystic (1998?)

I met a guy once in a diner
Who called himself Joe Mystic
I asked him about politics
He said it only made him sick
Joe Mystic with his bright blue hair
Joe Mystic didn't seem to care
Joe Mystic drinking Pekoe tea
Joe Mystic humming "Lemon Tree"
We had some ten-cent coffee
The two of us talked a while
Played Tracey Chapman on the jukebox
We both had crooked smiles
Joe Mystic playing his guitar
Joe Mystic never went to bars
Joe Mystic had a graceful walk
Joe Mystic wore two mismatched socks
Misery loves company
So we both stared at the stars
Joe Mystic saw it all, I think
He drove off in his car
Joe Mystic in his '60 Caddy
Joe Mystic never had a daddy
Joe Mystic was a loverboy
Joe Mystic had to find his joy

I've since lost the music that went with this. :P


Malkavian (1998)

A little nonsense, now and then,
Is relished by the wisest man
Or so said Willy Wonka, though
I'm not his biggest fan
I've never seen his movie,
But I heard that it was great
If it were edible I bet
You'd want to clean your plate
My mama always told me
To clean up and behave
But I think I'd really rather be
A nonsense-mad Malkave!
Malkavian, Malkavian
Three on one will make you rave-ian
Unless you're really brave-ian
I think I'll be Malkavian
Weird Al's our patron saint, at least
That's how I've heard it said
I always thought that saints and things
First had to be dead
Then again, it's possible
He's one of us right now
On many nights, this question has
Drawn furrows in my brow
I could become a hermit
And go live in a cave
But I think I'd really rather be
A truly mad Malkave!
Malkavian, Malkavian
They're not all that depraved-ian
They really are my fave-ians
I think I'll be Malkavian
Life's a circle, death's a square
And Malks are figure eights
Infinity turned on its side--
Ain't supernature great?
Second sight, beyond the shit
Though greyfaced dudes deny it
What a gift to mortalkind--
You really oughta try it
If you see one passing on the street,
Stop and give a wave
And you may soon become, oh yes,
A fabulous Malkave!
Malkavian, Malkavian
No longer be a slave-ian
To sanity or Moravians
I love to be Malkavian
I love to be Malkavian
I love to be Malka-vi-an!

The following poems sucked too much to be songs (generally the words were too complex to make good lyrics) and never made it to having music.

Tell Me(11/95)

Tell me, tell me, tell me!
What do you want me to tell you?
Tell me, tell me, tell me!
What next then, if I do?

The night air is cold and clear
50 degrees and falling
One dark November evening
Stars on dark hills are calling
I sit alone in darkness
Darkness of two or three kinds
In a tree on a hill in the cold
Listening for one of two minds
My fears become me in the night
Fear of thoughts of you
I tremble more as minutes pass
Fear of no thoughts of you
My imagination overcomes me
I see things that aren't there
Later I think to myself
What I should have done while there

Tell me, tell me, tell me!
What do you want of me? Some other time.
Tell me, tell me, tell me!
What next then, how much time?


Something Strange (11/95-2/96)

the smoke in the silence in the darkness in the night
falling water fountains
fog-encrusted mountains
the sun on the east side and the dawn mist not in sight
the candles giving light out giving heat out giving scent out
a rustling in the bushes
bat wings makig whooshes
a full moon rising high up in the dark sky and there's no doubt
(chorus:)   that there's
            something strange something wrong yet something right
something dreams in the silence in the darkness in the night
a dreaming something somewhere
it's lurking we-don't-know-where
does it claw in the silence, in the darkness does it bite?
who is it that's dreaming? you know who might dream--
Cthulhu in R'lyeh, our Earth Mother Gaia
they lie in their sleeps and you know it would seem
blood of life in the silence in the darkness in the night
in the sky a million stars
and the rising warrior Mars
blood-red himself and madly grinning in his fullest might
wolf cry within the wolf within yourself within us all
black coat and yellow eyes
stir the mind so that it tries
to remember the message that is borne within that call
something strange in this world


(the song formerly known as infinity) (1996)

I wonder what this song should be like (i like chinese)
Is it a song about love (oh my dear)
Is it a song about God (hallelujah)
Is it a song about oceans (i can foley anything)
Is it a song about endlessfrank (endlessfrank will always flow for all we know)
Is it a song about Pink Floyd (echoes meddle echoes meddle)
Is it a song about warp 10 (the devil has all the best engineers)
Is it the song that never ends (it goes on and on my friends)
Is it Ehren Keilig's neverending orgy (the neverending orgy, la la la la la la la la la)
And the end of this song from the dust upon the ground (i wonder if it will be my friend)
Shall be searched for and then found nevermore (quoth that raven)
What do you know about chaos theory? (drops of water)
Truly chaotic would mean truly random. (6d10, 8d10, 10d10)
Do we live in a truly chaotic universe? (good, neutral or evil?)
Sure, why not. (why not ask why not)
Truly random means there are no marbles in the bag. (truly random means nailing jell-o to
the wall)
Are you saying none of us have any marbles? (marble warm with life)
...Yeah. (oh yeah!)
Speaking of random... (broccoli beef!)
Do you prefer oral sex to Ovaltine? (giving or receiving?)
How about to Tang? (or orange pixy stix?)
Pianos can never fall, pianos can never fall (fall, fall)
Pianos never fall, thanks to Jesus (smile on)
Do you remember when the word RANDOM... (do you remember rock and roll radio?)
You sell 'em, I'll tell 'em, let's jitterbug (the one, the only, the beakman)
...Was not a word in your everyday vocabulary? (i.e., e.g., q.e.d.)
...Sarah Stanek.


My Dirty Jeans (spring 1997)

Chorus: These aren't the cleanest jeans
But they're the cleanest jeans I found
When I walked into my room that morn
And searched the clothing mound

They were under Tuesday's underwear
And under last year's socks
Been worn at least 200 times
Without a single wash
They're just a little crusty, hmm--
Of that there is no doubt.
Just a few whacks with this hammer--
That oughta smooth 'em out!
There we go now, almost done
Hey! Nobody can tell
Unless they get a bit too close--
I admit they kinda smell.
I think I'll have to do the wash
I can't go like this to work!
Tomorrow, I guess, maybe later--
But now, let's find a shirt!

This is about someone else's pants, by the way :).

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