Bittersweet creature comforts are here
Masquerading in this atmosphere
As shelter and enviable needful things
Bridges crumbled long before now
Manage to seem new again somehow
Needful things surround us when love can’t be found

Crisis and secrets and skeletons fill
Our best-kept crawlspaces
Where an iconic treasure trove may bend our will
It can’t match the love it replaces

Love in your thought word and deed
These are needful things

Set in motion each has sired
Rapture ruptured and set on fire
Sex and venues races and structures
Religion fashion form and culture

Love is all we have to give
Trust takes more than getting used to
Love is all I’ve left to give
I’ll take more than getting used to

Hungering for blessed mercies
Needful things devour the proceeds
Restraining love from withholding
Diligent disorders from building
Flourishing at best in turmoil
They backlash with a wicked recoil
Hallowed though are these
In this house are needful things

performance:

jason harvey: bass guitar

david beck: drums

mohadev bhattacharyya: guitar

jon beal: keyboards | voice

composition/production:

jon beal: composition | recording

david beck: composition

mohadev bhattacharyya: composition | recording

jason harvey: composition | mixing | production | recording

extra performance:

dennis harvey: noises

extra composition/production:

dennis harvey: mastering | mixing

mouthing words only to break up uncomfortable pauses
between handshakes
make sure you never sweat or break eye contact
or hesitate
when you know what you want

geronimo says
take off your boots and jump into the bed
make sure you never get out of his head
keep the alarm set to eastern time

reach up and slap the shit out of the callout box
floating above my head
slap the number sign
slap the dollar sign
slap the exclamation point

geronimo says
have seven drinks and take off all your clothes
be sick in the john and still smell like a rose
pass out at dinner and stumble home
geronimo says
let your words come out distorted and vague
hiding the fact that you've nothing to say

check your pulse and
check your wallet
stamp your stats on
your forehead
8:30
too early
kill time with the DJ
tight leather
wife beater
nipple rings and crew cut
don't worry
they love you
they leave you standing there
drink in hand
get out while you can
check your pulse and
check your wallet
stamp your stats on
your forehead

geronimo says
drown out the static with headphones and hands
scream through your teeth but issue no demands
sit there and suffer in agony
geronimo says
break up a family and steal all the men
wash off your hands and then do it again
polish your halo and make it shine

performance:

dennis harvey: all instruments | voice

composition/production:

dennis harvey: composition | lyrics | mastering | mixing | production | recording

extra performance:

jason harvey: bass guitar

performance:

jason harvey: bass guitar | voice

michael ambro: guitar

paul ambro: guitar

dennis harvey: keyboards | voice

composition/production:

michael ambro: composition

paul ambro: composition

jason harvey: composition

dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording

all sounds by various artists

extra composition/production:

dennis harvey: mastering | mixing | production | recording

performance:

jason harvey: bass guitar

michael ambro: guitar

paul ambro: guitar

dennis harvey: keyboards

composition/production:

michael ambro: composition

paul ambro: composition

jason harvey: composition

dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording

performance:

jason harvey: bass guitar

michael ambro: guitar

paul ambro: guitar

dennis harvey: keyboards | voice

composition/production:

michael ambro: composition

paul ambro: composition

jason harvey: composition

dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording

performance:

jason harvey: bass guitar

michael ambro: guitar

paul ambro: guitar

dennis harvey: keyboards | percussion

composition/production:

michael ambro: composition

paul ambro: composition

jason harvey: composition

dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording

performance:

jason harvey: bass guitar

paul ambro: guitar

michael ambro: keyboards

dennis harvey: keyboards | voice

composition/production:

michael ambro: composition

paul ambro: composition

jason harvey: composition

dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording

performance:

jason harvey: bass guitar

michael ambro: guitar

paul ambro: guitar

dennis harvey: keyboards

composition/production:

michael ambro: composition

paul ambro: composition

jason harvey: composition

dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording

performance:

jason harvey: bass guitar

michael ambro: guitar

paul ambro: guitar

dennis harvey: keyboards | noises

composition/production:

michael ambro: composition

paul ambro: composition

jason harvey: composition

dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording

notes:

... As we rounded the corner near the source of the commotion, a beat-up sedan whizzed by and smashed into the side of a building, leaving a giant, unexpectedly dank hole like an open wound in the red brick. I stared, shaken, but then looked around and realized the streets were swarming with... beings. I couldn't explain it. Short, stunted halflings with furry feet; tall, slender, haughty-looking jerks with pointed ears and hair like streaming gold; round, bearded, smelly guys who looked like small, two-legged wooly mammoths covered in armor. They were all drunk, weaving about, singing songs, being sick in the street. What the hell was happening? I watched the insane scene for a few moments before seeing it: the chalupa, Rastanefarious' chalupa, lying there on the street right where I left it, a shimmering portal extending out of it from which these bonkers fantasy creatures emerged. It was the chalupa vortex, left open for refugees from another world, travelers fresh off the chalupa boat. I smashed a fist into my other hand, furious. Had this been Rastanefarious' plan all along, and I'd just been the key to open the door?

I looked back at the beat-up sedan. The driver was nowhere to be found, and the hole in the brick building seemed to extend inside forever. This had been no coincidence - on the crumbling brick next to the dank hole was a battered sign: "MMM, D.D.S. (appts. only)". Without even thinking, without trying to analyze how I'd missed this telltale sign that night with the chalupa, I jumped into the still-running sedan and punched the gas, straight into the darkness. Blue Moon played from tinny speakers as I plunged through the sudden night, anger and determination overcoming any rationality. ...