1. |
Hall of Fame
02:21
|
|||
|
Erase me, erase me from your life
Or place me, place me in your hall of fame
It doesn't matter now, you hold the key
to lock me away where no one ever see
Hang me hang me on your gilded wall
Or tuck me in a trophy once and for all
I'll still be sitting here, awake after dark
Singing "how long the miles to your heart"
oh...
I jump up and I click my heels in your memory
It's all begging the question: "what'll you do with me?"
There ain't a motion left that I'd suggest
But just to sit still where you wanna place me next
|
||||
2. |
Something in my Soup
02:42
|
|||
|
I was sitting on my stoop
Writing melodies to you
Really threw me for a loop, there
But when I flew the coop
I found something in my soup
Oh yeah...
I'm trying to stop myself from going insane
See that fleck swimming around
in my Papua New Guinea soup?
You keep claiming that it's pepper
but pepper don't crawl around on you
like that, like something in my soup
I was sitting on my stoop, etc...
When I look at the human condition
All I see is frailty
When I look at the soup du jour
I punt it away, I don't want no more
Because I found something in my soup!
I was sitting, etc...
Your honor, I object to the ominous hum you emit.
I find your onerous dictates somewhat charming but morally desolate.
And as the double jester's swimming in the mid-atlantic,
Now no one in your sideshow is psychophantic,
and your looks disband from hyacinthine locks on your head...
|
||||
3. |
Dial Tone
03:01
|
|||
|
I live alone, and I hope I never answer my phone
I don't like to talk to people I don't know
You can try, but I'll refuse to buy it from you
I live alone, in a humble mobile home
It's alright for a couple of nights, but rolls down every knoll
To this town where I'm unknown
Down in the trough of the uncanny valley
You ain't around and my head's feeling light
But do I need you, need you tonight
Maybe I'm amazed, and that's why
I sit and pipe by the candlelight
Water boiling fireside, oh I hope I was right
To live alone. I still hope I never answer my phone
It's your turn, you get to hear my dial tone
In this town where I'm unknown
Down in the trough of the uncanny valley
You ain't around and my head's still sorta light
But if you need me, how I'll arrive
|
||||
4. |
Object of the Game
02:51
|
|||
|
Nobody's rooting for us anymore
Nobody's rooting, no one's writing reports
On the butcher I love
Or the Catholic nuns who he cuts for
I wonder what we all are waiting for,
for Winter or when we're gone with the wind
I wonder what we all are waiting for,
for Winter or when we're gone with the wind?
I wondered as a kid
Can't be the only person who did
Mothers of footballers and delinquents
When they all come down
it's no coincidence that I write this
Asking what the object of the game is
Oh what do we win by hanging in?
Asking what the object of the game is
Oh what do we win by hanging in?
What do we stand to win?
|
||||
5. |
Sixty Years From Now
02:32
|
|||
|
Sixty years from now
When I reappear by your side
Will you know who I am?
Will your arms be open wide?
My hair it will be gray
My eyes will sparkle like the dew
Will you know what to say to the child you once knew?
Sixty years from now
When I reappear at the call of the wind
What will we talk about?
Where do we begin?
I might be a mother myself
With a daughter or two to my own name
Without you I will stumble our mistakes at once distinct and selfsame
Sixty years from now
When I reappear after just a short flight
All will be forgiven
We will whisper through the night
I will tell you everything
The victories and all the regrets
Then you stroke my hair, our bond finally reset
|
||||
6. |
A Likely Story
03:09
|
|||
|
Cover your eyes and hear the flowers bloom
Under the sea, lonely, gentle,
You got something up in your underground blue, I see blue now
Shapes and planes and fountains spiraling blue, I see you now,
Do you see me too?
Can you see me through?
Love is a life song, baby
Sing it away, an apple a day, glorious day,
We're on the straight and narrow
Love is a likely story
Give me some more, I'll show you the door, bring me your poor,
Give me your tired and hungry
Love is a hungry baby
Give me some soup, give me some milk, give me some alcohol
Send me your prayers
|
||||
7. |
Hourglass
03:02
|
|||
|
I like you in the afternoon
Radiant in my disheveled room
So lay your sleeping head, my love
Human on my faithless arm
Now I see you sitting up straight and looking at something far away
And I remember eighteen days and eighteen nights like yesterday
I like waking up in your arms
With the sunlight for a blanket and each other for our clothes
Yeah Hippie Johnny thinks that we’re breaking up
But hissing neighbor ain’t never been in love
The scribes are scribbling, barkeeps keeping, bar bands banter, hey how’s everybody doing tonight?
If all the world’s a stage and all the men and women players, only you and I can see them from our snowglobe in the sky
Where is the one who churns the daytime into night?
O where does he reside and will he slow his roll for us?
When water wets the ground and fills the earthworm with delight
What secrets will you tell me with the water in your eyes?
|
||||
8. |
Money Management
02:50
|
|||
|
Where are you gonna find your peace, a story or a lie?
I didn't get your number right... maybe I can next time.
I didn't get your number or your voicemail after all,
So I can't be the stovepipe, and you can't be the shawl around you
Well let me tell you about money management
Everybody's gotta be their own best friend
You gotta think twice before you make a claim little one
Don't be prank calling 9-1-1
You better hang up the phone in time little man
Before you disgrace the band
Before you make up some preposterous thing
About how you got two right hands
Where are you gonna find a friend in such a gay parade?
You taste too photographic and your tastes are way too R-rated
We never shared a preference, we never shared a pew,
And every time you hit me up there's just nothing I can do
Well let me tell you about money management
Everybody's gotta be their own best friend
You gotta think twice before you make a claim little man
Don't be prank calling uncle sam
You better hang up the phone in time little man
Before you disgrace the band
Before you say some more preposterous shit
About how you got a second right hand
Sing into the Escalade, sing into the Escalade!
Sing into the Escalade, sing into the Escalade!
|
||||
9. |
Bootstraps
03:02
|
|||
|
Bad production, low concentration, at this again, doctor's sad, he's solemn, take a pillow and bawl in it you do evenly well, I'm picking myself up by my own ears again, if I murder me, if I have died, well I'm sorry I tried.
stubborn symptom, simple humanistic cures have failed me, my leather laces are untied, inside of my sticky fists which I pull real high, the feeling of the strand cutting open my hand, oh my open hand, my open hand, I'm sorry again.
#
I'm picking myself up by my own ears again, if I murder me, if I have died, well I'm sorry I tried, one more time, stubborn symptom, simple humanistic cures have failed me, my leather laces are untied, inside of my sticky fists which I pull real high, the feeling of the strand cutting open my hand, oh my open hand, my open hand, I'm sorry again.
#
I'm pickin meself up by my own ears again. If I murder me, if I have died, well I'm sorry I tried.
|
||||
10. |
The Moon is Loud
02:04
|
|||
|
Someone's bringing me many buckets of tea
But I don't want tea
The moon is loud
I'm a honeybee, you're a honeybee too
So many bees
The moon is loud
Everyone's awake in this whole town
Because they all know
The moon is loud
|
||||
11. |
Maybe Sunday
03:16
|
|||
|
I woke up I was feeling sad and I don't know why
I'm no sleeping dog but let me lie
She will come to me on maybe sunday
Sweetly promising me nothing but conversation
Every seventh day I turn around again
I don't know why. I don't know why.
The seventh day of hanukkah
I'm sleepin in Salonica
The plant's already dead
But it can still stand
In the pent up light you shed
The moon lost half its power when it turned to face
Beckoned by the messiness of breaks
She will see for me if my hair's still hanging
Low like she remembers, and on Sunday Morning
Even though I don't look like your Strokes frontman
I think I am Julian
The money's in the register
The marquee flickers on
Trains are standing in the dawn
The singer leaves the song
|
||||
double jester Madison, Wisconsin
We are Hippie Johnny. Neal lives in Madison and Gautama is living in Macon presently.
If you like double jester, you may also like:
Nina Nastasia & Jeff MacLeod join forces as Jolie Laide, playing noir-y songs that glow soft as moonlight.
go to album
This Bay-Area based band offer modern indie songs with intertwining harmonies and searching refrains.
go to album
The Whole Pulse
by Lightning Cult
In songs that swing from giant and anthemic to distortion-caked and widescreen, Lightning Cult conjure galaxies of sound.
go to album
Friend of a Friend
by Katie Morey
A new EP from Rochester’s Katie Morey runs the spectrum from ’60s girl-group to bubbling exotica.
go to album
New Day With New Possibilities
by Sonny & The Sunsets
The latest from Sonny Smith's long-running San Francisco outfit is clever and very sweet and more than a little bit country.
go to album
The Los Angeles-based indie rock artist's first full-length album is inspired by songwriters like Glen Campbell and George Harrison.
go to album
Stay Inside – Songs from The Great Indoors
by Stay Inside
featured on Bandcamp Radio Apr 21, 2020
go to album
