web hosting domain names email addresses

COURTING THE MUSE (2001) LYRICS

All lyrics © Nice Guy Productions, 1999 and 2000.

PEDESTAL She sits there smiling on the couch because she knows she's the one I sing the songs about. I'm getting tired of crawling after her. The answer's plainly no, so what's it all for? Oh what's the point, of feeling anything for you? I have no choice, so, tell me what to do. I put you on a pedestal so I can't see it's the perfect height for you to kick me in the teeth. But I do it to myself, my friend. I do it over and over again. And anything that I could sing to you, would not make a difference, it would not get through. I think I needed unrequited love. The torture inspired me, but now I've had enough.

NASTY Oh I'm, not stupid enough to believe, that someone who looks like you, could be interested at all, in someone who looks like me. Oh I know, it doesn't really matter at all, how funny and smart I am. I understand. I hate myself as I look in the mirror. Your reaction makes things clearer but I don't understand why you have to blast me. Why do you have to be so nasty? I can read your history in the curves of your body. I can feel your pain all underneath your skin. I run my fingers on your beautiful scars. Will you strip yourself naked and let me come in? Oh I'm not stupid enough to believe that someone as beautiful could be interested at all in someone who looks like me. And I, ask you to translate, because I catch on oh so late. Just wait. I just thought that I'd take a chance, but you wrote me off at first glance. I'm so sorry that you took offense, but you said that you liked dissonance. . .

GREED Your beautiful ugliness embraces me, your strange awareness encases me. Filling up your spaces but you're crying out for more. I've seen you lately as you're creeping across the floor and you say, "Take me, and all my misery because it comes with me, it's my identity. You just can't see what I need. You just can't believe, all of my greed." You told me if I didn't like it, then I could just go. I don't have to watch you self destruct but I will still know. I've seen the downward spiral, screw you to the ground. I've been the sound island and I'm still around because your beautiful ugliness embraces me, your strange awareness encases me. The bane of your existence is the poison that I crave. In the vain attempts to leave you, it's the anger that enslaves. I'm not supposed to love you. I'm not supposed to want you. But I do. But I do. But I do. And wherever I turn, I keep running into you.

LIMBO (WAITING FOR THE SECOND COMING) You say, that I don't understand it. Words come out like spilled red wine. Oh today, it's all underhanded. When I complain, you say I'm out of line. How long do I stay here waiting for you? How long in "I don't know?" How long must I walk in purgatory? How long do I go in Limbo? I know, it's just a silly love song. You may say, I border on cliché. But then again, I'm really self-reflexive. It's metadramatic, a play within a play. You say, "How long do I stay here waiting for you? How long in "I don't know?" How long must I hold the candle, learning? How long do I go in Limbo?"

THE FUTURE (extended version) (Phil Osophy opened his first birthday present and out came the future. His father said, "you can have anything you want, but I'm sorry I can't be there." At 10 mother said, "boy go make a wish, and blow out the candles." She screamed, "let them eat cake! You're taking too long for the photos.") The family gathered around the young man. "We all expect big things from you. We know that you won't disappoint us." But I still don't know what I want to do. There's no future for me. I don't know what I want to be. This boring world just leaves me nothing but sex and death with plastic stuffing. I'm waiting for the sun to shine. I'm looking for the grand design. I'm reaching for a lifeline, something with a hint of sublime. There's no future for me. Is there life after university? This postmodern world will only reveal: shrinking attention spans and the hyper-real waiting for the sun to shine. I want to compete, but there's nothing left for me. I want to succeed but there's nothing left for free. Nada na na. . .

SOLITARY MAN Little Rob, dances in the rain and he drinks, to cover up inane because he knows, he doesn't have a place to go. Joker Man, doesn't have a hand. His face cracks as he laughs as he plays with the Band because he knows, there's a hollow in his bowl. He says "I am just a solitary man. I live alone, the best I can. I've never loved, never felt that way: well maybe, someday." Old Bob, just turned 61. He looks back at his life and says, "What have I done? A few little songs and some scribbled cryptic poems. I have a tune in my head and a lawyer on the phone." He has a big file with words on pages. He's doing this thing in an awful lot of stages. He's writing inside a number of cages, standing on the shoulders of a history of sages. . .

RECONCILIATION DAY You'll find, there's just a few, of all the people that you knew. Times of youth, move in herds, to feel "a part of" and self assured. But everything changes as you grow old; there's not as much that you can hold. I know you well. I've seen it all. I never tell, when you fall. Oh it's true you've gone again, but I, always knew you were my friend, a light. It looks like it's the end but I. . . .I know we'll talk again. You live today, you give today, never wanting in return. You'll never be, an enemy, clever haunting, not to burn. I hate, because of the things I hate in me. Calumniate, but a part of you is what I see. Outside of you, is a part of me I can't forgive. I hide, I repress so I can live. . .

PERSONIFICATION I can withstand it if I know that there's an end. But you're still the same way, we're not really friends. I think sometimes you are a muse. You're always there so I can use. You only live to bring me down. You fully breathe when I drown. You will never go away from me. I know I won't get any help from you. I know you'll do anything you can do. At times I hate you through and through. You change my whole view. You want to become one of the drone. That's because it's all you've ever know. You wait inside me for a chance, to play awhile to dance.

COURTING THE MUSE I perform, at the party but nobody's listening. They only, want to hear "the song." I'm lonely. I'm a man behind glass. I watch you dancing. I only, want to belong. I remember, when we were friends in college. I remember, we used to be so close. Now I see you, it's like I don't even know you, it's paradigms ago, but I want to touch your face. I almost think of you, as a real person with imperfections and not just, my source of inspiration. I'm singing, in my head, writing a song. I'm patient for it to once again come along. Like when we, used to hang out it coffee shops and you'd sit, and watch me play, and I'd sing, for everyone in the room but only for you and I'd bring, what I felt that day. I go shopping alone, at the language megastore. I'm searching, for effective metaphors. I buy some, that are on sale, right off the rack. I return them, because they look like everyone else. We all know, everything's temporary, but that doesn't mean, it's meaningless. You visit me and you tell me to follow my bliss. As we're talking, I want to kiss your lips. Oh I've, waited all this time. I want to know you, but I never really tried, to show you, what was on my mind. And of course, I've waited for this day. I rehearsed. I practiced what I'd say to you, the muse.

VISIONS OF THE DAUGHTERS OF ALBION I've seen your face, a 1000 times, waiting for you to see mine. I will always try. I've travelled far, across the sea, through waves of time and misery, because I know you well. By the red earth and ancient trees, our immortal river bleeds, and it fills the sky. The voice of slaves beneath the sun, children bought with money run. Are they just a shell? It's been 20 years, since they sentenced me, to walk the hours, in this anomie, to live, to learn to be free, because I give, I never knew how to be. From all of my misdeeds, from all the books I read, and all the words I write, from all the poems I recite: I grow. I learn to be free. To the East, to a fallen land, I walked across the desert sands. My hands bound and shackled feet, through the wind I could not see. If you feel I'm hiding, it's when I always wanted to be. When you see me shining, you'll know I've learned to be free. They left me in the ancient ruins; I woke up in the temple of the moon. I looked down to the underworld; Osiris took my soul unfurled. If you feel I'm hiding, it's when I always wanted to be. When you see me shining. You'll know I've learned to be free. Is all alone, how we'll always be? Is all One, how we are free? The daughters of Albion hear her woes, and echo back her sighs. Can they just see the world with, and not through their eyes? There's a stream of consciousness, running thorough humankind. There's a stream of consciousness, moving from mind to mind.


Go Back to Index Page