Notice the lo-fi-ness? Yeah, it was an accident at first, but now I really like the idea of fuzzy recordings for the archives. Makes it feel older, yanno? It’s also reminiscent of Tom Waits’ lo-fi recordings of him telling stories.
So ya, here are the pieces I read for this recording:
Subconscious to the Rescue
Pile the sandbags and twirl the belts,
we’re not gonna lose our dishes to the wind
if I have anything to say about it!
Pile it all up, all that crap you never expected
you’d need to keep the mental tempest at bay.
No use questioning it at this point,
your brain sent out the SOS two days ago,
and I sincerely apologize for arriving so late.
You’d never believe the cross-country traffic.
Hit the Road
With fists would be too bloody,
so we picked the feet instead.
Stomping full speed ahead
with soles at our disposal,
we fully intended to swing
by the 24-hour bakery for
some half-price doughnuts
and a snifter of cider
on the house (if Freddy
decided to be kind to us).
Our plans changed, and
we began flipping pancakes
until we could find
a tangible solution.
It struck me like butter
and I scraped my elbow
on the doorway as I
hurried outside to yell
“America knows the truth
and systemic starvation
of impoverished nations,
just ask the government!”
A sniper’s round whizzed
past my ear and I took
no time getting out of there,
though I lost my clothes
while going so fast,
an issue that pops up
more often than you think it should.
It’s like I’m trying to crack
some Russian terrorist organization’s database
before the rubber ducky
explodes all over the train tracks
during the afternoon commute
away from the lovely metropolis
that affords so many people
the luxury of living 30 miles away
and commuting every day
to earn their big fat paychecks
while leaving bigfoot carbon prints
if they choose not to commute by rail.
But they can do whatever they want,
because having substantial sums of money
makes a person immune from criticism
and the need to change lifestyle.