Appears on re-Itori Pleads the 18th Dimension
I planned for flying saucers
tin foil on my head
I planned for violent burglars
a pistol by my bed
I think myself a superhero
closet full of capes
of all the things I planned for I never planned for apes
I built a metal bunker in case of nuclear war
I checked my house for radon
one kit for every floor
I’ve heard it said that evil comes in many shapes
but of all the things I planned for I never planned for apes
zookeepers were striking and they had my sympathy
San Diego, Brooklyn and Washington, DC
management was stubborn and before you could count to three
the zookeeps freed the animals and threw away the key
if I had a lemon for each mistake I made
I’d fix me a glass of rat poison with a splash of lemonade
that comet cult was wise to depart for heaven’s gates
’cause you’re better off departed than alive with wild apes
I bred a German Shepherd and trained some killer bees
I liquified my assets and wired them overseas
it’s so easy to get mired in philosophical debates
if you’re the type who plans for things I hope you plan for apes
Appears on Times New Reinfeld
at the Old Philharmonic everyone wants to be somebody else
section leaders wish they were conductor
conductor wanna be the Board of Trustees
the concertgoers wish they were musicians
who in turn want to be the idle rich
not a soul has found a lick of happiness
except the lady bassoonist and me
paycheck to paycheck
substitutes would kill to be gainfully employed
full-timers get bulletproof vests and substitutes get annoyed
the concertmaster is a glorified street thug
knows it’s better to be feared than loved
piano wire, brass knuckles
blood on a white satin glove
raise your horn skyward as we do the same
the most chinless sounds you ever heard
who pays the person who’s paying the piper?
who’s the head honcho who’s calling the tune?
witness protection
we’re all using fictitious names
I’m always mistaking cello for bass and they always switch places
you can challenge at next week’s auditions
maybe even wind up first chair
give your betters the what-for at your own risk
inflate your credentials
we take our directives from on high
Mozart is nice but isn’t Debussy nicer?
if the ends justify the means of production
percussion might serve to do more than keep time
at the Old Philharmonic everyone wants to be somebody else
not a soul has found a lick of happiness
except the lady bassoonist and me
Appears on Recording Artist
ostrich in charge of a goat herd
ostrich in charge of a goat herd
using his neck as a lasso
using his neck as a lasso
no other ostrich does it quite like him
OICOAGH, OICOAGH
OICOAGH, OICOAGH
he’s got a sidekick or a deputy
Miracle the Underhen as proud as can be
but ostriches don’t sleep with their eyes closed
and some of them never sleep
if there’s one thing he’s good at it’s walking backwards
if there’s one thing he’s bad at it’s keeping on task
especially when he sees a cocoon
with his beak he fondles it lovingly
cocoon I love you
you’ll be butterflies
zebra in charge of a zebra
zebra in charge of a zebra
walking around with a sundial
walking around with a sundial
they’re both late for dinner but their stripes are all on time
Z-I-C-O-A, Z-I-C-O-A-Z
Z-I-C-O-A, Z-I-C-O-A-Z
you’ve got a sidekick or a deputy
Miracle the Underhen proud as can be
cut that lady rooster down to size
ostrich in charge of a goat herd
ostrich in charge of a goat herd
wrassles ’em down with a lasso
wrassles ’em down with a lasso
no other ostrich does it quite like him
Appears on Bookbinding and Other Songs
God works in mysterious ways
sometimes he goes to the office on Saturdays
cruel composer of the symphony
oh great interpreter of books
that amusement park nightguard
the one-armed circle jerk
perpetrator of the Big Bang
blood in the Garden of Eden hose sink
upward and onward
what percentage of things happen for a reason, dictionarily speaking?
maybe .05 at the most
or is talking statistics missing the point?
what a swell conversation
God gave himself opposable thumbs
so he could yank it and make homo sapiens
so we could booze and quit and then submit to that mild-mannered higher power
Appears on Vicarious Enjoyment Jelly Bean Show
one-e-and-a two-e-and-a three-e-and-a four-e-and-a
fuck-e-and-a you-e-and-a, dude-e-and-a
how-e-and-a could-e-and-a you-e-and-a say-e-and-a those-e-and-a actually believe them?
when-e-and-a I-e-and-a see-e-and-a texts-e-and-a from-e-and-a I delete them
I-e-and-a thought-e-and-a you-e-and-a were-e-and-a my-e-and-a friend-e-and-a, hm, guess not-e-and-a
if-e-and-a our-e-and-a friendship is a bus-e-and-a I'll-e-and-a get-e-and-a off at the next stop
even-e-and-a if-e-and-a you apologized-e-and-a even-e-and-a with-e-and-a our nostalgic ties-e-and-a
knowing what I know-e-and-a, knowing you think this, I-e-and-a stand-e-and-a by-e-and-a what-e-and-a I-e-and-a said-e-and-a, ignorance is bliss
One-e-and-a Two-e-and-a, we're-e-and-a through-e-and-a
fuck-e-and-a you-e-and-a One-e-and-a Two-e-and-a
Appears on What the Fuck are the Blues?
I’m a public official brought to shame
no other desire than to clear my name
I called a press conference but no reporters came
so I told the truth to an empty room
but turns out I spoke too soon
a man walks in with a face like the man in the moon
says he works for some magazine
wants to do a piece on me
so we head down to the nearest saloon
I hem and haw about law and order and he pulls out a tape recorder
I’d murder for a sympathetic ear
he thanks me for my time and we shake hands
I pay the bill and he leaves me there cryin’ in my beer
with me on the cover of the magazine it sells like hotcakes
but the story is not flattering at all
I’m not a bettin’ man but if I was I’d put money on my lousy reputation
I got the only biographer blues
no one believes a word I say
strike it from the record, please
I’m nothin’ what I seem
I’m not a bettin’ man but if I was
see journalists would do anything to get ahead
for them there’s a special place in hell
that son of a bitch got a book deal, lucky him
they put a copy in my prison cell
who on Earth is gonna show my side?
only time can tell
best case scenario I’d write the thing myself under a pseudonym
they won’t suspect it’s me
every fifteen pages I’d make myself look bad
but not so bad the reader thinks I’m guilty
my fate was sealed the moment I was arrested
an honest book won’t see the light of day
I’m not a praying man but if I was
I’d wish away these lies and allegations
I got the only biographer blues
no one believes a word I say
strike it from the record please
I’m nothin’ what I seem
I’m not an evil man and I never was
Appears on Poorest Almanac That Ever Lived
this is the kiosk you’ve been looking for on the proper consumption of culture
wheat from the chaff
curds from the whey
opera sushi ballet
opera is like synchronized swimming
with prettier costumes and less chlorine
underwater they can’t sing Italian
and sopranos don’t float
not any that I’ve seen
the purpose of films is not to see films but only to say that you saw them
sushi is like synchronized swimming
instead of young women it’s raw fish and eels
and if the fish move, tell the manager
and if the swimmers don’t, pump up them ambulance wheels
admiring yourself in the mirror [whoa]
is not [acceptable] acceptable
ballet is like a puppet show
to communicate they leap through the air
running the gamut of human emotion
love rage love hope despair
thank you for coming to our kiosk on the proper consumption of culture
wheat from the chaff
curds from the whey
opera sushi ballet
Appears on Summer Jams of re-Itori Jones
[outsider art]
are you hip enough to like it?
[outsider art]
are you sick enough to make it?
it walks like a duck and it quacks like art
[but is it art?]
yes it’s art
it’s outsider art
[outsider art]
makes for good conversation
[outsider art]
you need a real art vacation
[outsider art]
yeah it’s so great
while supplies last
don’t be late
here’s a six foot ear made out of earwax
a six foot thumb made out of thumbtacks
a sculpture of the word anthrax made out of anthrax
a painting of knockwurst made out of knickknacks
you buy from me you don’t pay sales tax
’cause all of my pieces were swiped by kleptomaniacs
every now and then I have panic attacks
I smash the whole gallery with an axe
I’ll send you a price quote by fax
that’s short for facsimile
it’s a thing of the past
a metaphor for society
how we live so fast
yours for 10 grand while supplies last
yes I just sold you a fax machine
but a nice homeless man painted it green and called it The Frog Darlene
Ribbit Ribbit Croak Number 15
anthrax ear
20,000
anthrax thumb
30,000
anthrax anthrax
40,000
anthrax death taxx
50,000
asbestos anthrax smallpox abstracts
lab rats in backpacks
short stack of flapjacks
dead dogs from the racetracks
asbestos asbestos
nail clipping mosaic
still life of lilacs
[outsider art]
are you itching to try it?
[outsider art]
are you rich enough to buy it?
it walks like a duck and it quacks like art
[but is it art?]
yes it’s art
it’s outsider art
outsider art
makes for good conversation
outsider art
you need a real art vacation
outsider art
yeah it’s so great
so let’s cut the red tape and shake hands with fate
The Movie Tall Phone is tall and well-liked by everyone
it has a spoiler alert
it has a robot pet named Spoiler Alert
I’m not a roboticist
The Movie Tall Phone tells the plot of a movie
you call it
not like a phone but like a dog like Spot
what happened in that movie?
Movie Tall Phone, quarter million
Spoiler Alert, also quarter million
I’ll part ways with the green fax machine for a thousand
Appears on The Balladeer
ahh yeah
I’m a overhyped rapper past my prime, working on a resume
running out of time
on the cusp of 30 it’s kinda disconcerting
can’t help but wonder what my high school friends are earning
all the accolades I won won’t put a drop in my gas tank
when goodwill fades there’s a debt to be paid
if life gives you underemployment make resume-ade ’cause at this late date my checkbook is burning
I’m a fraud, I should turn myself in
you shoulda heard me at the bar each year, night before Thanksgiving, bragging
recording with this dude
collabo with that
not a day past 24 and I still had babyfat
my rise to fame was meteoric
my decline even faster
skull without a brain
New York Yorick
categorized, put into a box I did not belong in
epilogue, me in my childhood bedroom sobbing
resume resume
I was a hip-hop sensei
this notebook’s no dojo
couldn’t focus though
made hot cocoa
obliterated my throat
stove bellowed smoke in slow-mo searing my once-unstoppable mouth
I passed out
burned bright and fast like a comet
calm me down
the sight of a phantom limb in a tourniquet
I was the darling of the cognoscenti
what angel sent me?
overflowing in an epoch of abundance and plenty
critical acclaim, the opiate I didn’t need
if genius recedes with age, so be it
I’ll leave
this test says I type 150-plus words a minute
if I get a interview how will I spin it?
Mister or Miss, I got soft skills out the wazoo and an employment gap bigger than a neck tattoo
and what if they recognize my voice would they admit it?
at work, I mean
did they used to listen to my music?
what if they still do?
imagine giving your favorite rapper a performance review
that’s how the cookie crumbles, I guess
they say it takes 200 nos just to get a yes
kernel of truth but in reverse for yours truly
5 million yeses then a no
and my no was permanent, terminal, cosmic