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. ...

Slim
Hug the self inside
Code the shield around the pebble in your chest
Trim
Keep the fake alive
Laugh like that make you any less a dick

I want nothing more than to simply kick you in yo face
But you're too tall
So I'll have my robot army do the dirty work

Pull the skin over the corners that show the evil
Something got caught at the perforation and ripped apart your carefully constructed forehead
Never mind - they make glue for that
That way the demon can get high while it cocoons itself
Disregard the flashbulbs - we're just making sure we never forget who you really are

A stranger
Free radical
Swarm of bees
In the trees
Photosynthesize

Endangered
Metamorphosis
Carbon lifeform
Evolve and devolve

Don't start that again
You might need that excuse for something else
Slow motion running away won't work because I just caught up with you
And it turns out you're not worth the trouble of writing this song

SHUT UP

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: all instruments

composition/production:

jason harvey: composition | mixing | production | recording

performance:

jason harvey: bass guitar

dennis harvey: keyboards

composition/production:

jason harvey: composition

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

performance:

jason harvey: bass guitar | voice

michael ambro: guitar

paul ambro: guitar

dennis harvey: drums | keyboards | noises | voice

composition/production:

michael ambro: composition

paul ambro: composition

jason harvey: composition

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

only the song you sing
leaves a hole
in the wall where a photo once was
all the things
you ever had
are piled up in the dumpster downstairs
and the noise
is closing in
from the street below an open window

holding a coffee cup
to your lips
as the neighbors throw things at the wall
see the gate
close and open
to the grinding and whining of gears
call your mom
say you wanted this
as her tears fall out an open window

look closely
you can almost see the gears turning
city boy asked for drama
look what he got

fill up the grocery bag
mesmerized
by the eyes of a random cashier
furtively
eye the ass
of the guy next to you in the lift
better yet
take a running jump
at the ghosts outside an open window

put your hands to your ears
stops the sighs
of your life as it passes you by
smile at jokes
wash your hands
practice hard at not giving a shit
just to find
in your bed at night
that your mind went out an open window

fix me another one
if you can
i spilled the last one all over your shirt
accidents
monuments to my misshapen crumbling ideals
i'm surprised
that you haven't yet
jumped screaming out an open window

i feel like the oldest man
in the world
i feel 273
and am still
figuring out
the logic of your arguments
it would age me beyond belief
to see you jump out an open window

(no one knows
who you are
nameless drone
broadway star)

look closely
you can almost see the gears turning
city boy asked for drama
look what he got

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

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

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

A cashier at a taco shop said: "Can I get you anything else?"
I replied: "Are you Simon Russell Beale?"
He said, "No."
I said, "No you can't."

A guy at a bar said: "Can I buy you a drink?"
I replied: "Are you Simon Russell Beale?"
He said, "No."
I said, "No you can't."

A child in a well said: "Can I please get out of this well?"
I replied: "Are you Simon Russell Beale?"
He said, "No."
I said, "No you can't."

A man at a multinational space exploration conglomerate said: "Can I take you for a ride in my interdimensional space capsule?"
I replied: "Are you Simon Russell Beale?"
He said, "No."
I said, "No you can't."

A woman at the park said: "Can I give you $5000 to get my child out of this well?"
I replied: "Are you Simon Russell Beale?"
She said, "No."
I said, "No you can't."

A man on the bus said:
"Can I have the time?"
I replied: "Are you Simon Russell Beale?"
He said, "Yes."
OMG

performance:

dennis harvey: all instruments | voice

composition/production:

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