So this is an exploration of what life is for most of us now built on top of stark cadences and composite stories with a refrain of greed, corruption, and control.

More sunshine?

Stark Cadence

This is the first installment of a new project.  This one will focus more on images rather than conclusions.

Lyrics:

On a hill a flower grows
	A pretty, yellow daffodil
Through the socket of a skull
	Where someone’s eye should have been.

All around it’s all the same
	Mounds of bones bleached by the rain.
All these people fell
	To rot where they were slain.

The earth is scarred with deserted roads
	Cracked like dirt baking in the sun.
What were once cars are melted hulks.
	They tried to get away.

Rising high into the gray,
	The crumbling city scape.
Miles of steel and glass and clay
	Just giant tomb stones.

In a dried-up riverbed
	The twisted wreckage of a plane.
The field is scattered with luggage.
	And empty clothing.

No music playing in the streets
	Just the cries of a million ghosts
Or the wind whipping through the streets
	Past burnt-out buildings.

Outtro:

On the west side of a town
Sits an untouched neighborhood
Inside a room all painted pink
A little girl sleeps.

She didn’t die like all the rest.
Her preservation is the best.
Curled upon her little bed
Like only sleeping.

Blond hair splayed out on the pillow
Tears still stain her little face
Clutching a pink, plush teddy bear
Like it could save her.

She was someone’s little baby.
So were all of them.

Post-Apocalypse Panorama

I didn't set out to write a song.  I didn't even have an idea.  I did, however have an idea for a drum cadence based on what you would hear on TV shows in the 1970s when a bad guy was up to no good.  I also wanted to try that with maybe some seventies style funk bass guitar riffage.

Next thing you know, I've got this little ditty.  Honestly, I think that will be the process for this project.  Begin with a cadence, write the music around it, and let the lyrics do what they want.  This is a neat one, (in my humble opinion).

Also, it follows that the next track should be something on the disingenuous nature of American politicians.  The working title of the track will be "Vote for me you stupid bastard."

Lyrics:
Vintage TV Villain

Flags of state 
Flapping in the wind
On the corners of 
A black limousine 

Riding safely
in his motorcade.
His plans are drawn.
He moves his hand.

With the stroke of a pen,
he spills the blood of men,
and from the pulpit,
He spews his hate.

He preaches death
to all he loathes,
and when he’s done,
the room explodes.

Chorus:
He’s a vintage TV villain.
He lets his minions kill them.

He tells the press
what they should say
and what will befall them
if they disobey.

In a spot lit room
somewhere far away
where no one hears
as they cut skin away.

Or you’ll turn your key
to drive yourself home
and in an explosion,
you will be gone.

Or you’ll take a drink
at your favorite bar,
and you’ll die writhing
on the floor.

Chorus:
He’s a vintage TV villain.
Watch him grin just like a demon.

In a secret lab,
he crafts our bane,
and holds us for some kind of
ransom insane.

He takes what he will;
you don’t have a say.
And if you demur,
he’ll blow you away.

Human life
Has no meaning to him.
Babies, women, and kids
are just insects to end.

Should you even try
To get in the way,
your entire family
will surely pay.

Chorus;
He’s a vintage TV Villain.
His henchmen will just kill you.

Smile and know you’re a devil
without a thought to consequence.
Rule by fear not by wisdom,
blinding the world with all your lies.

Sooner or later,
your own people
will kick down your door 
and take you out.

Chorus:
He’s a vintage TV villain.
Someone really needs to kill him.
Before he blows us all to heaven.

Vintage TV Villain

The cadence for this one was inspired by an old marching band cadence.   Lot of different influences went into this production.  At the beginning and the end, I made use of "Yankee Doodle Dandy."  This is an old Folk song, so no copyright issues.

The idea was to take the persona of a political candidate without being partisan and show exactly how far politicians in my country have fallen.  (We thought they were pretty low before),

Lyrics:

Fellow stupid assholes,

I'm just like you.

From humblest beginnings 
Where I grew.
Through stubbornness and study 
I came through.

I'm just like you.

Don't be confused.

By this sweetly made Armani suit.
Or the fortune that my family accrued.
Or the fact that I hail from the finest schools.
Despite the mediocre grades I pooled.

Don't misconstrue. 

Chorus:
Say hoorah for freedom
You fucking slaves.
I won't fix your problems
But I'll make sure I get paid.

For ten bucks a month,
you can help me make my way.
I won't fight your battles,
But I'll get rich off your pain.

Say hoorah for freedom.

You're disabused

Of rights for which our laws say you are due.
My adversary took them all from you.
Sexually harasses children, too.

That's why he'll lose.

He's such a sleaze.

Lets them steal your money while you sleep.
A liar and a scoundrel and a cheat.
Smiles straight to your face pickpocketing.

Do not believe.

Chorus.

Bridge:
My government is not about
Protecting you and taking out
The people who would take it all
Away.

My benefactors emptied out
Your Christmas trees and bank accounts.
And now they're hauling liberty
Away.

Slightly raised your wages
Then they doubled all the prices
And we blamed it on your pitiful 
Pay raise.

Congress with their no bid jobs
Emoluments from Santa Claus
Have turned your weakened minds
The other way.

Chorus.
Outtro.

Last Hoorah

This will be the first title of the second half of this project.  I suppose I would call this portion of the project the chorus of the body of work. 
I've been listening to a lot of Beatles songs and a lot of Elvis songs, so I suppose those would be the influences for this title.  This is a weird track.  Probably will change it a little at some point.  I'm not certain I like the transitions.  V2 Cleaned up the vocals.

Lyrics:
Orange sticker in my old car window.
In the parking lot of my apartment building.
The leasing says wants to tow me.
Due to the sticker on my tag.

And here I’m picturing those assholes
Trolling in their stupid little golf carts.
Eyeing every single car tag.
And I wonder what they mean.

Chorus:
We just want to live!
To feel the sun upon our faces.
Not to feel like we don’t belong
Without the bullies taking everything that’s ours.
We want to live! We want to live and be left alone.

Picked my son up from his school house.
He’s bummed out about a girl.
All year long, he’s thrown her parties,
So that she would notice him.

She told him he was like a brother.
He could be no other way.
That’s when he told her that he loved her.
She just shrugged and turned away.

Chorus two:
He just wants to love
And feel that warmth inside his chest
He wants to feel that he belongs
He shouldn’t have to feel so ugly
He wants to love.  And he wants love.  He wants to love and not be afraid.

I decide they’re gonna get it.
I pulled in front of the leasing office.
Showed the receipt for my registration.
The officious bastards want the sticker.

Heading home, I can’t help wonder
How they raise my rent by a whole C note
Taking half of all my earnings.
Then tow my only car away.

Chorus 3:
We just want to live!
We want to love.
Feel like we belong.
Not have to fight every single day.
We want to live.  We want to love. Without being prey. We want to live.  We want to love.

My son retreated to his bedroom.
I raged on inside my den.
My other son was eating candy.
By the tree devoid of gifts.

Chorus:
Chorus 2 
Chorus 3

Fun With Stickers

Version 2 added a guitar track.  Added a rapid fade out at the end of the track.

Lyrics:
My dad was strapped down in a room
He was breathing through a vent.
A dire diagnosis
On the clipboard by his bed.

And I was lost and so confused
To find he’d spent all of his strength.
I wished I’d been there more.
I wish I hadn’t quit.

A counselor took me to the side
She said “Dry your weeping eyes.
“Your agreed to this 
Before you were even born.”

“Back when you were weak and small
Your parents safely held your thrall.”
And now your turn has come,
And you should not withdraw.

His soul sang

Chorus:
If this world of intermittent joy and sorrow’s
All we see before blink out of existence for infinity,
Will you sit and hold my hand so that my final dreams will be 
Of you and me before I must go face eternity?

Because you always were the best of me.
Just let me feel your warmth.
Hold my hand so I won’t be afraid
As I drift into the haze.

A mother sits inside a nursery .
Humming to her baby
Swaddled tightly with such care.
The purest love feeds him like air.

Many years away inside 
a clean, white room her baby cries.
He’s all grown up, 
and now he’s watching mommy die.

She drifts off to final sleep 
and dreams of him; his scent so sweet.
And now the circle is complete. 
And her spirit beckons as she leaves

Chorus

I tell my children that I love them 
several times every day.
I wonder if they know 
how deep these feelings sway.

So many things within my life 
that I have done in vain.
The only thing I’ve done 
That’s ever meant a thing is raising them.

Chorus: 2xs.

The Best of Me

This is another of those tracks that I wrote and recorded in one night.  I finished it this morning.  I'll probably edit it since I just have written it.  I'm sure I'll find some things I don't like about it.

Lyrics:

He don’t care if god exists.
	Wealth is his only religion.
He’s not afraid that he’ll go broke
         In dear old Daddy, he trusts

He’s never struggled once in life
        Doesn’t the stuff grow on trees?.
So he resents the lazy poor.
	They’re not worth a damn anyway.

He won’t commit to loyalty.
	Such notions are made for the weak.
He don’t believe in things like love;
	It’s just two in the bed making three.


Drives his Austin-Martin down the winding roads
He pays no heed to laws.
Every single judge in town belongs to him.
Sits in his office –  high.
In a gaudy penthouse where he fires them through emails.
He don’t care.  
He has never met them. They’ll brilliant every day 
or they must beware.

(Narcissistic bastard, they say that he’s rapacious, they say that he’s immoral, but he’s just mean).
Big money.
He acts like he is your friend.
Big money.
He stabs you with a such nice grin, 

He don’t care if you can’t pay the rent.
	You’ll do it or live in a tent.
He’ll kick you out upon your ear.
	Everything belongs to him.

Inflation doesn’t bother him.
	He’ll have record profits again.
He’ll double prices citing demand.
	And we’ll all face the poor house again.

Insists there’s too many people here.
	Supports population control.
He thinks we need a bloody war.
	To reduce all the surplus poor.

He don’t it’s immoral that financial laws
Are ghost written by him.
Every single Congressman belongs to him;
He made them what they are.
Someone asked him once how he describes his job,
And he smiled shook his head.
“So what do you do?” she said, and through his narrow eyes
He said, “I win.”

(Narcissistic bastard, they say that he’s rapacious, they say that he’s immoral, but he’s just mean).
Big money.
He acts like he is your friend.
Big money.
He stabs you with a such nice grin. 
Big money.
Replacing us all with AI.
Big money.
A reptile who looks like a man.

Big Money

This is the second version of this track.  The first was too long, the vocals were over-cooked.  Had a lot of headspace issues with the vocals and instruments.  The lyrics were a little shoddy in places.

I completely re-worked the entire track, removed the last verse, got rid of the piano, improved the roaring base, freed up some headspace with a lot of EQ work, revised the lyrics, cut down the number of tracks.  I think this one is much less harsh.  In fact, I enjoy listening to it.

Lyrics:

Ad Nauseam:  Movement two:  “The Prosecution of Judge Leeds”

Judge Justice Leeds,
My name is Mr. Daniel William Gray.
You put my baby daughter in her grave
When you sent her with her mother.
	And her child abusing boyfriend.

The gun you see
Pointed at your face will only speak
If the people in the galley all agree
That you’re a crooked bastard.
	Sanctimonious asshole.

Judge Justice Leeds,
How can you go home at night and sleep
With all the vengeful spirits circling?
	Ad Nauseam
		What’s your fucking problem?
		I won’t take it anymore.

Beginning with exhibit A:
The son of Willamina Mae
A black man protesting hate
Gunned down by a young, white ape.

While walking to his car
It was just half a block away.
Judge Leeds catches the case
Quickly it goes the wrong way.

Watched every single ruling bend 
To the young hoodlum’s play,
And at the end of the day,
The killer got a free foul play.

I saw photos on the news
Of Justice Leeds in his college days
Drinking with the killer’s dad.

Justice Leeds,
Did you even lose a moment’s sleep
While fucking up your job so perfectly?
	Ad Nauseam
		You nepotistic asshole.
		I won’t let you anymore.

Her name was Missy D. McKay.
Pre-debutant in every way
Twelve years old and full of grace.
With a perfect, kind little face.

Until a boy of seventeen 
Took innocence away.
A clear-cut case of rape,
But Justice Leeds was on the case.

He took the girl to task.
He shamed her for flirtatious ways.
With six months the boy escaped,
But Judge Leeds was enraged.

That she went out of state
To end her pregnancy by rape.
She hung herself in juvie jail.

What you’ve seen,
Is just a tiny glimpse of his misdeeds
He needs to be humbled desperately.
He’s just a sleazy lawyer.
	He’d sell his fucking mother.

What we need,
A definitive correction, so I plead.
Hear his muted victims and their creed.
Return a guilty verdict.
	He’s not fit for service

Justice Leeds,
How can you go home at night and sleep
Since working all those wicked, evil deeds?
	Ad Nauseam
		I’ll make a chair from your hide.
		You sold Astraea for a whore.

Ad Nauseam 2:  The Prosecution of Judge Leeds Version 2

The central silence of the project.

I had a little idea while sitting in the Waffle House listening to myself prattle on  -- that I should reprise the chorus of "Fun with Stickers" much slower with an organ, cello, and a guitar, and play around with the pronouns.  I came up with something that wasn't totally new, but managed to define itself as something different and add a central chorus to the project.

It may be much shorter in final form.  Like one of Pink Floyd's famous tasty little segue tracks.

Lyrics:
He just wants to love.
And feel the fullness in his chest.
He wants to feel
That he belongs.
He shouldn’t have to feel so ugly.
He wants love.
He wants to love.
He wants to love and not be afraid.

She just wants to live,
And figure out just who she is here
Not to feel 
she must commit
Before she knows that she is safe with him.
To grow.
And be a friend.
And not to move until she is sure.

They want to be them
Without the fear of hateful judgement.
And to feel like they belong.
They shouldn’t have to feel perverted.
And to love.
And be approved.
They want to love and just be them.

He just wants to love.
And feel that he is somehow worthy.
And to feel that he belongs,
He shouldn’t have to feel so lonely.
He wants love; he wants to love.
He wants to love and not be dismissed.

She just wants to live
And have a roof above her head.
She wants to feel 
like she is free.
She shouldn’t have to feel she owes him.
And to choose.
She wants to live.
She wants to sleep and be left alone.

I just want to live.
I want to love – feel like I belong
Not have to fight* every single day.*
I shouldn’t have to feel subhuman
And to live.*
I want to love.*
I want to love without being prey.

We just want to live 
We want to love *and not be afraid.
But we never will.
We don’t understand.*
We’re all the same, so we keep on fighting.

Universal Chorus

This track is based on Chopin's "Marche Funèbre" written in the 1830s.  I think it sounds wicked with electric guitars, drums and a four string bass.  The idea behind the lyrics was to take the perspective of an undertaker, and let him express his concerns about the reasons that people are dying.  This one was fun.  Haven't had a reason to do a real lead guitar solo in a while.

Lyrics:

I am an ordinary man
With an extraordinary job.
And like a cop I’ll see you all
On your worst day.

You have no secrets you can keep
Someday I’ll know them all
When you’re upon the stainless slab 
Beneath these halls.

You need not be afraid
I will take them to my grave.
I am a man of principle
Your secrets I won’t say.

Except the truths that I have seen
That I’ll convey to you today
I’ll tell a tale to boil your blood
Of cold foul play.

Just let me lead the way.

On slab four lies a little man
Who just arrived today.
He was only forty-eight.
He should have lived three more decades.

But he had diabetes,
And his meds were too much to pay.
Then a coma took him down
And in two weeks he had passed away.

A girl of fifty-three
Is over chilling in the bay
Came down with Covid
And her lungs couldn’t take the fray.

Her insurance company
Decided not to pay.
They pulled the plug;
she couldn’t breathe though her children prayed.

Businessmen and doctors kill
When they collaborate.
If you can’t pay you may as well
Blow yourself away.

Extortion is their favorite game.

My daughter was just twenty-five.
The single mom of two little guys.
She couldn’t afford to replace her tires.
She died in a fire.

Half of the people who I see
Met their end because of greed.
On I toil to meet family’s needs.
Through endless suffering.

And no one’s doing anything!

Undertaker

This track is a combination of my own styles.  Take the style of base guitar music that I used in "Vintage TV Villain" (Funk bass), combine that with the vocal style of "Big Money" and a bit of the fire from Ad Nauseam movement 2, and stir it all up.  Still it also manages to be something unusual, completely different, and consistent with the tone and drive of this project.  This one bitches about the news media.  Before anyone gets all huffy, just let me say that I believe that the media is polarized and assisting in the further separation of the people.  If you are a Republican, you scoff at the idea of having to watch CNN.  If you're a Democrat, you probably believe that Fox News is so biased that it's almost fiction.  Everyone is wrong, and they're all misusing their authority to separate people and make them hate one another.  Enough of that, here's the lyrics:

He sits behind an amorphous desk,
Mock newsroom behind him so burlesque.
Presenting himself as a journalist
But he reads tilt at someone’s behest.

And it’s mostly bias.

He never wrote a single word.
He only conveys what the boss confers.
The boss belongs to a group of curs.
Oligarchs spreading a party’s terms.

Finessing ideas that the fascists roughed.
That “If you repeat a lie enough
“They will believe and the truth rebuff.”
“The people are fools to be shorn and fluffed.”

Like herds of livestock.

Chorus:
Tune in to “Thinking lessons” at ten.
We’ll tell you what to believe again.
I wouldn’t lie because I’m your friend.
Take my hand and we will descend.
             Into misanthropy. . . .

And isolation.

They’ll weaponize our fear against all those who vex them.

They want you to hate the other guy.
They           Want                
And believe that his facts are a pack of lies.
You                to hate.
And you shouldn’t speak to the other side.
Don’t                        speak
They only seek to poison minds.
To anyone who disagrees.
And mind control you.

People on their couches drink it down.
He says what they all believe aloud.
Both sides have committed and doubled down
To paranoid views that they have found.

Chorus.

Bridge:

You believe what they say just because it’s easy.
You don’t have to do research or form your own Ideas.
They push you right or left to suit some hidden purpose.
While we argue, they proceed to steal your spine.

Some of them tell you that our history is false.
Some of them say that our elections are full of faults.
Convincing you you didn’t see what you just saw.
That your circumstances never have been own fault.

Blame it on someone who has no control at all.

Chorus.

Thinking Lessons

I used a little audio in the beginning of this track.  The audio belongs to BBC, and I used it with permission.  It's room noise for a quiet office.  The idea here is to say something about how pedantic and officious businesses have become with regard to their treatment of employees.  So I had this thought:  What if a manager leaves his job after more than a decade because the policies no longer coincide with his personal morality?

I also tried some new stuff.  I did a melody guitar in the chorus and used a flanger plug in.  

Lyrics:

My name is Michael Appling.
I work in materials handling.
I’m sorry if I’m rambling,
But it’s been a sleepless day.

I have so much to say, so here goes:

I run the docks on graveyard shift.
I’ve done so since I was just a kid.
But lately things have been adrift.
And I must do my thing.

Though it causes so much pain to go.

When I was in the second grade,*
I walked up on an unfair fray.*
A ten-year-old on pre-k raid.
I ran to get the teacher’s aid.*

But then she came and took the wrong kid’s side.*

That night I told my dad and he said,


Chorus:
“Karma doesn’t go away because you’re afraid.
“You must find your very own right way.
“Don’t sell out when others misbehave.
“Do what you know is right and don’t be swayed.

“You have to be who you are.” X2

Let’s talk about Andy Moldering*
Who worked like a bloody, damn banshee.*
Knew everything on several lines 
Expecting props when it was time.*

Imagine our surprise to find you lied.

Demanded that the workers grow.*
Gratitude in their wages show.*
You didn’t pay him for his strain
Attrition kept his wages low.*

I did a good review, but just the same. . . .

What about Shelly Askew-Lee*
Fine ‘till you changed the policy.*
No more than three attendance incidents
Within a twelve-month spree.*

“No excuse accepted; we’re sorry.”

She was a single mom of three*
With no help from her family.*
Her kids got sick, she took a hit
Last night it fell to me*

To fire her for tardiness times three.

Inside the conference room she told me,

Chorus 2:

“Karma doesn’t go away because you’re working.
“I can’t believe you agree with this travesty.
“You shouldn’t be a tool they use to hurt me.
“Just because my life is not the same.

“You have to be who you are.” X2

I’d like to thank you for the years*
Of service and the memories dear,*
But I can’t do this anymore. 
You’ve gone against my principles,*

And that’s the most important part of me.

So, then I submit respectfully,

Chorus 3:
Karma doesn’t pause because I’m working,
And with your policies, I don’t agree.
I can’t be a tool you use for hurting.
Without my agency I am not free.

I have to be who I am.
And you can be who you are.
I’ve got to be who I am.
And you can be who you are.

A Great Resignation

This track is a completely recomposed and recorded version of "About Lilly," the conclusion of Ad Nauseam.  The original was overdone in some ways and underdone in others.  The music also didn't effectively represent the story.  There were too many verses which made the title too long, and the verse breaks didn't work.  Here's a much better thought out version.  I used three external audio tracks for this one.  All of them were freeware in the public domain.

Lyrics:

I’ll never forget the day
When I held little Lilly Gray.
She was so small but brave
With a tiny, wrinkled face.

With a tired embrace,
Her mother somehow conveyed
That I had found my place
	With her.

Romantic love doesn’t last.
The marriage came to pass.
My ex moved on so fast
I had no time to grasp.

The boyfriend seemed up to task,
So I put on my happy mask.*
And held my bravest face
               For her.

I loved how Lilly saw the world
And she expressed joy with a twirl 
Like every stone was made of pearl
And mud was sweet chocolate swirls.

She grew into a spry tom girl
And wrapped her heart around the world.
I found myself again
              In her.

But something stole my baby’s light.
At first, she seemed possessed by fright.
On her visits she clung tight,
And at the end of every one she cried.

Revealed then was her plight
Through bruises on her arms and thighs,*
And I knew I had to fight
	For her.

I decided I should poke around,
So I camped outside their house.
I watched the boyfriend beat them down
He threw my little girl around.

I told my ex what I had found.
She stared as if I were a clown
I had to sue
	For custody.

I arrived at court to speak my piece
She showed with the best mouthpiece
And on my side was only me.
Enter Judge Justice Leeds.

I sat alone in disbelief
As my evidence he wouldn’t see
Said I should have sprung
	For Lawyer’s fees.

Two weeks ago, I got a call –
The cops at my ex-wife’s home.
They wouldn’t tell me what was wrong.
I arrived to find my girl was gone.

She was beaten raw
Dead with my ex against the bathroom wall.
And so I failed
	My little girl.

Judge Justice Leeds,
How can you go home at night and sleep
While breathing in the rotting blood of these
Your disregarded victims
             Ad Nauseam?

Do you still think Mom is best?

I didn’t bring this gun for you.
My daughter’s dead; my life is through.
There’s just one shell it must be true.
I’ll be your last victim!

Ad Nauseam3:  About Lilly version 2

I've had the idea for this track for a while.  I haven't recorded it, because I needed a break.  The idea behind this one was to have a sixties style progression with a bass guitar solo instead of a lead guitar. 

Lyrics:
Took my kids out to the store.
Pulled around by the front door.
The flood gates opened and out they sprang
A sea of humanity.

Finally, the crowd thinned out.
I touched the gas to complete my route
When out burst a man walking fast as he could go.
I had to lock it down.

Tore into me with a rabid rant
Swore that if my kids were not present
He’d pull me out though my window and beat me down 
until my head caved in.

Chorus:
There’s a whole lot of anger out there.
The people causing it all just don’t care.

Into town with a real-sick kid
Fever high enough for a ER visit
Into the turning lane as the light turned red
And then I just zoned out.

The car behind me began to honk and fume.
I looked up to find that I had missed my cue.
As I started off, the other car shot around my driver’s side 
And cut me off.

Chorus:
There’s a lot of aggression out there.
Too much pressure on people everywhere

School shootings all over the news.
People damning others with different views.
Patrons diving after workers trying to pay
Their bills and keep their families fed.

Half the people limp around in worn-out cars.
The chosen build rockets made to go to mars.
Landlords demanding half of all tenant's net pay
Before they kick us out.

Congress writing bills that don't do a thing
then stand before the cameras self-congratulating.
We sit at empty tables with forks and knives
while wondering what the fuck went wrong.

Chorus:
There’s a lot of injustice out there.
They're getting too rich to make it better.

Out There

This is another idea I've had for a while, but I've just gotten around to composing and writing it.  Aside:  So no one bitches, I did, indeed invent a word for this song.  The word Theocentricity doesn't work for the purpose of this lyric, so I took the old Latin word for faith "Religio" and jammed it against the suffix "centricity."  I think you get my drift.

Another aside:  The reason I've had this idea for more than six months without attempting it is that I'm nearing the end of this project.  I don't know why, but I always slow down toward the end of creative projects.  Perhaps it's just because I've enjoyed the ride and I know that the next project will be something different?  Anyway, another part of the reason is that I wasn't sure what stories I would tell, but as it turns out, I wrote this song the same way I wrote "Post-Apocalypse Panorama," "Last Hoorah," "Vintage TV Villain," and "Big Money."  It turns out that the best thing to do if you don't know what to do is to write a unique drum cadence.  Drum cadences are good creative Ex Lax. 

Lyrics:

After several centuries of struggling,
They finally figured out what they had to be.
They showered all their efforts into their seed,
And from the mud, built a society.

It wasn’t very long until they all agreed,
their cities were lightest. Their people were brightest.
They built themselves and army, and they misbehaved.
They tried to force the world to capitulate.

They said, “We are the apex of the human race.”
“Our tongue, you’ll learn.  Our laws obey.”
Following a round of failed diplomacy,
The missiles flew after you and me.

And when the smoke cleared,
There was nothing left at all.

Chorus:
Ethnocentricity
Bane of humanity.
The greatest lie we tell ourselves is we are better than our brothers.

Ethnocentricity
Greatest of monstrosities.
You have two arms.  You have two legs, and you are nothing less or more

Than any other man.  Any other man.

Every thousand years comes a selfless man.
Who guides his flock with a noble hand.
Teaches them forgiveness and self-reproach
To plant their souls, so they will grow.

Eventually he dies and the new guy cries
“Our boy was God” and then he lies.
“Follow all my rules; I am heaven’s seer.”
“All other faiths lead straight to hell.”

If you disagree, your blood will be upon you.

Religiocentricity
Divider of humanity.
What makes you think your God would want you to destroy all that he’s made?

Religiocentricity
Malevolent form of heresy.
Arbitrary schools of thought are always much more false than true.

Believe that which you can.
Don’t judge your fellow man.

You think that you should be number one in line
The most important one to get there on time.
You think that you’re deserving of a big fat raise
But not the other guy who does the same damn thing.
“All that matters
“in this world is me.”

Egocentricity.
Misguided demagoguery.
In denial you can’t grow.  You cannot learn if you’re not wrong.

Egocentricity.
Destroyer of a great psyche.
You set yourself apart until you’re dark and you are evil too.

Throw out -centricities.
Look for synchronicities.
God is talking.  You can see if you open your eyes.

Return to simplicity.
Look past all ethnicities.
On your own you’re incomplete; together you can change the world.

We have to make this right.  We have to make it right.

-centricity

This was one of the stories missing from the earlier part of the project.  I've done a lot of illuding to the systemic problems renters face.  We'll here's a sardonic tale that just so happens to be true-ish.  Wouldn't want it to be too on the nose.  Besides, I think a composite story shown through composite characters becomes much more profound than a straight tale.

Lyrics:

Five decades old dressed like a teen.
Smiles like a star.  Face like a queen.
Addresses the world through a thin veneer 
Of kind civility.

Bleached blond hair hides deep crow’s feet.
Tight, little skirt veiling cottage cheese.
Badge on her big breast to let us know 
She’s the land lady.

Behind smiling eyes she’s extra mean
Perhaps it’s compassion fatigue.
“Welcome to our buildings where there’s
No tenants allowed.

“Can’t wait to kick you out.”

Chorus:
There’s a special kind of violence in your deeds.
Is this who you really want to be?
Looking at yourself, what do you see?
I see an ugly lizard.

Fat cop standing by my neighbor’s door.
As maintenance guys haul her things outdoors.
Fifty-pound table muscle’s all I see drooping 
toward the floor.

Handle bar mustache above his lip.
Looks like he taped a piece of shit
Just below his nose. I wonder if
he knows.

“It’s just a job; it is what it is.” 

Chorus:
There’s a special kind of violence in your deeds.
Is this who you really want to be?
Looking at yourself, what do you see?
I see a shitty mustache.

My neighbor came home late that night
To find her things sitting outside.
It had all been picked through by the 
other residents.

She was only two weeks late.
They wouldn’t grant another day.
Despite the fact she’d lived here five long years
And built a life.

My eyes locked on a certificate
Given to her little girl.
My son got the same when he was
in the second grade.

Only two weeks late.

There's a special kind of violence in your deeds.
Is this who you really want to be?
Looking at yourself what do you see?

A special kind of violence.

A special kind of violence.

A Special Kind Of Violence

This is likely the last track I will compose and record for the "Stark Cadence" project.  I decided to reinforce a theme touched upon earlier by "Out There" while at the same time returning to the "Bad guy drum cadence" idea I had that led to "Vintage TV Villain" while using the same effects and EQ that I used in "A Special Kind of Violence" with the bass guitar setup that I used for "Last Hoorah."  

The inspiration for the drums came from the beginning of the 1971 movie "Dirty Harry."

This was a fun one to compose.

The story is based on something that really happened last week at one of the schools in town near where I live.  When I say "Based Upon" I mean two women fought in a car rider line and one of the women's children got involved with a weapon.  The rest is all fiction.

Lyrics:
Mercy’s in the car rider line.
Air conditioner is offline.
On her phone just passing the time.
Waiting for her daughter to come outside.

Patience was Miss Mercy’s daughter.
Sadie was her next-door neighbor.
Three weeks ago, invited Patience
To spend the whole night with the neighbor girl.

Mercy’s in the car rider line.
Sweating like a suspect in the lights.
Waiting on Patience to come outside.
When that stupid cunt, Sadie, cut her off.

She jumped out of her car.
And shot around Sadie’s van.
Grasped her by her hair,
And dragged her out by the head.
Ripped open her tee shirt.
Sadie’s boobs flapped and bobbed.
Throttled her to the ground and ground her into the asphalt.

Two weeks ago, she had a visit.
From a snotty social worker.
Claiming she neglected Patience.
While fucked up on Methamphetamines. 

Threw Sadie to the ground 
And began to beat her down.
All the kids gathered round.
As Sadie turned it all around
And grasped Mercy by the hair.
And bashed her in the snout.
Patience disappeared.  Where the fuck did Patience go?

Three weeks ago, she had a conference
With Patience’s old English teacher.
Said that Patience had no mercy.
That all the other kids were terrified.

Mercy clawed Sadie’s chest.
Sadie thrashed Mercy’s head.
Struggling for her life.
Precious had Mercy’s gun
Pointed it at Sadie’s eye.
The cops were on them fast, 
And now they’re all in jail.  Shooting shade with their eyes.

Turns out that it was just the teacher
Who called the stupid social worker.
The cop across from Mercy told her.
She was simply angry with the wrong one.

Mercy lit a dumpster fire.
Sadie should have picked friends better.
Now Mercy has lost her Patience.
Mercy seemed to have no patience.
Perhaps it was because of Mercy.

Dumpster Fire

Ad Nauseam Movement One:

Lyrics:

A garish atrium
shaped like a soaring silo
lacquered marble walls
with declarations of law
chiseled into stone like scripture
bronze statue in the center.

She towers above her peers
billowing, tarnished toga
fastened at the shoulders by sunburst broaches
shining resplendently.
In her hand, she holds balance scales
level with her head.

Blindfold obscures her eyes.
He wonders if Astraea knows
her stewards sold her for a whore.
Daniel stands inside the door.
He is simply one of a thousand people
inside the atrium

coming for his day in court,
but he's been here before.
For what he's come to do the press will curse him
damned forevermore.
Can they all really ignore
the sins of Judge Deeds and his court?

Today Astraea's champion will see justice
served in her temple well.
That's when he moves past the scales
To be weighed like an Egyptian
in hell.

Judge Justice Leeds,
how can you go home at night and sleep
beneath the weight of all of your misdeeds?
Breaking peoples' spirits

Ad Nauseam
While Seldom serving justice.

Stark Cadence

Matt Cantrell