lie in the bed
dream of me
blanket over your chest
dream of me
we're together again
we're alone again
in philadelphia
in your dream

2:00 a.m. half asleep
artificial wind covers me
i see us in rittenhouse square
holding hands as people stare
as i lie awake and dream

lie in the bed
dream of me
pillow under your head
dream of me
we'll be together again
dream of me

performance:

dennis harvey: all instruments | voice

composition/production:

dennis harvey: composition | lyrics | 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:

... Then I saw him. The darkness had opened up into an impossible cavern deep within the bowels of whatever interdimensional place I'd found myself, and in it, like a giant, spouting tower of vomit, was Multi-Mouth. Jets of fluid spewed from the gurgling orifices all over his body, himself a nearly shapeless, standing mass of pestilent goo. I swung out of the car, the rage of what this monster had done to my world burning through any caution. ...

performance:

w. scott whitlock: voice

composition/production:

w. scott whitlock: composition

extra performance:

dennis harvey: all instruments

extra composition/production:

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

performance:

paul ambro: guitar | voice

composition/production:

paul ambro: composition | production | recording

extra performance:

jason harvey: bass guitar

dennis harvey: drums

extra composition/production:

jason harvey: composition | production | recording

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

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

extra performance:

kenny vessels: voice

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 | 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. ...