"this big fucker got me." lol. this track got me smilin. your voice is easy on the ears. fun vibe.

On his motel room floor, my friend Chuck let me crash 
I had a bus ticket to Chicago and 200 in cash 
This free place to stay was a generous gift 
See, I had dropped out of college and my life was adrift 

While Chuck was at work, the motel owner came pounding 
He said “You haven’t paid a dime in rent and I’m tired of hounding” 
I said, “When Chuck returns from work, I will remind him to pay” 
He said, “I calling the sheriff, I want my money today”. 

You can call me a deadbeat or whatever you’d like 
But I gathered my belongings and I boarded my bike   
And made haste to the bus station with the coppers en route 
I never spoke to Chuck again, I hope they worked it all out 

This is quite a long story, you should try to hang loose 
Pour yourself a stiff drink to enjoy 
I’m getting to the part where I was bit by a goose 
In Schaumburg, Illinois

I had a friend up in Schaumburg who invited me to stay 
Schaumburg is a suburb of Chicago by the way 
So I took the bus to Chicago and left my troubles behind it 
I had his and address and phone number so I’d figured I’d find it 

I took the L train to Schaumburg and it was shocking to me 
Nothing but farm land as far as my eyes could see 
No taxi cabs or buses, no pay phones around 
So I just starting walking down the first road I found 

And this road let to a highway but which direction do I go 
My only hope was to hitchhike and so with dread I did so 
A guy in a pickup stopped, I showed the address I’d written 
He said, “get in the back with my dog, don’t worry he’s never bitten”. 

He was a grown man but unarmed, afraid of abuse 
At heart, just a scared mama’s boy 
He’s getting to the part where he was bit by a goose 
In Schaumburg, Illinois

And this man who picked me up finally found the address 
I had feared this guy would murder me, I must confess 
He let me out of his truck and I was practically giddy 
He said, “I used a quarter tank of gas, how bout you give me a fiddy?”

My friend’s apartment had a number like one zero three 
I found 101 and 104 so where the hell could it be?  
I looked for it doggedly but it could not be found 
I asked several people I saw milling around 

But no one could help me solve this new mystery 
Where in god’s name was apartment 1 zero three?   
I was at my wit’s end, I nearly broke down and cried 
It’s like my dog, my mom, my best friend and my dreams had all died 

He felt as useless as garbage, just like human refuse 
He had lost every semblance of joy 
He’s  nearly to the part where he’s bit by a goose 
In Schaumburg, Illinois 

I saw the big golden arches, about a 1/2 mile yonder
I thought I’ll buy a hot cup of coffee and reflectively ponder 
And so I headed down the sidewalk and I had traveled a piece 
And on the left I saw a big pond and big flock of geese 

I thought nothing more of it, I thought the geese would ignore me  
But out of my left eye I saw these geese coming for me 
I started running but it was too late they had already caught me 
And on my left thigh just below my butt this big fucker got me 

The rest of the story isn’t very exciting 
I found my friend’s apartment but by week’s end we were fighting 
Over some girl in a bar, to even say it makes me wince 
And the next day I was on a bus and I haven’t seen my friend since 

He’s ashamed of himself, there’s simply no good excuse 
For letting some girl his friendship destroy 
But now he’s told you the story of being bit by a goose 
In Schaumburg, Illinois

TurtleFrogMan

I Was Bitten By a Goose in Schaumburg, Illinois

The Elusive Beast Known As "BIG O"

Refuckulate

Dizzave Gattenbourough

Wendigo 3: Die Harder, Again.

R.I.P Prince of Darkness

Strings screaming fire they dance in the dark
Fingers like lightning they leave their mark
Steel and wood in a lover’s embrace
The stage is a battlefield it’s a dangerous place

The guitars the star the rest just hum
Every note a spark every chord a drum
It speaks no words but shouts so loud
The guitars the star it owns the crowd

The guitars the star.mp3

She was crossing the street on a motorized scooter 
A car turning left didn’t see her and wrecked it 
They say that the brain is the body’s computer 
And the skull is the casing that serves to protect it 

She’s flung nearly ten yards her skull cracks the street 
The damage incurred by her brain was severe 
Just like her name implies, Candy was sweet 
But now we’re not sure whether Candy’s still here 

She sang karaoke and drank chardonnay 
She couldn’t drive, she couldn’t learn how. 
Yes, that was Candy yesterday 
But this is Candy now

She was rushed to the hospital, hurt quite severely 
Her brain was now swollen and bleeding inside 
Her family grieved for they loved Candy dearly 
And would have been crushed had their sweet Candy died

By a careless driver she’d been recklessly assaulted
And now she’s in a gurney tightly strapped 
Our brains are like a vulnerable ball of chocolate malted 
Subject to disintegration when they are unwrapped 

She was sweet as her namesake but she was mentally slow 
And yet she’d made herself a nice life somehow 
But, that was Candy long ago 
And this is Candy now

Riding on her scooter on the way to Bible Study 
No helmet on or seat belt there to strap her 
Then suddenly she’s lying on the pavement hurt and bloody 
A candy bar no longer safely wrapped inside its wrapper 

Many months have past now since that car abruptly hit her 
Her physical condition grows progressively worse 
You cannot blame her family who quietly consider 
Whether her survival was a blessing or a curse?  

Her limbs and face contorted as she staggers room to room
Senseless screams and cries she’s loudly belting 
Her family is as shattered as you rightly might assume
Helplessly they’re forced to watch their Candy slowly melting 

She sang karaoke and she drank chardonnay 
She couldn’t drive, she couldn’t learn how. 
Yes, that was Candy yesterday 
And this is Candy now


This Is Candy Now

On a planet resembling Earth, in a Galaxy far, far away 
There were creatures resembling humans of two pigmentations: one red and one blue 
And the red ones instructed the blue ones that there is one word that THEY must never say. 
And they will be ostracized, subject to violence or otherwise harmed if they do. 

You see, one or two centuries prior, the blue ones held red ones enslaved 
And there was a word that the Blue ones would use to refer to the red ones possessed
And though they had long since been freed, in lieu of the justice they craved 
They insisted the blue ones should never again breathe that word, not even in jest

And the blues ones at first were quite gladly compliant, at first they completely concurred
But the red ones adopted this word as a term of endearment, not a hideous curse!  
And now and again some poor Blue would get loose with its tongue and then out popped that word! 
And red ones who heard it were given free license to beat the blue or something worse! 

Even the most rich and powerful Blue ones if ever that word did they say
Were forced to make public apologies, tearfully beg for forgiveness, repentant 
that’s just the trouble with pendulums swinging too wide can the pendulums sway 
What started as simply a politic gesture was simmering now as resentment 

Words are just noises you make to express an idea you may have at the time
Our primitive ancestors, warning of predators, made noises just to alert you 
Always remember the words that are used in that world famous nursery rhyme:
Sticks and Stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you 

Most Blues were fine with not saying the word, its insulting so why not refrain 
And all of that’s true but it’s rather short sighted and frankly it misses the point  
The point is that blue ones were forced to comply or else suffer the punishment’s pain 
And when rules don’t apply to both red and blue equally, blue noses get out of joint 

So small bands of blues started saying the word in their home and amongst other blues 
And the building resentment would over time lead to a war pitting race against race 
Only slaves are subjected to punishment over expressing unpopular views 
Free people use any words that they want to:  a warning from deep outer space!

The Word You Dare Not Say

I climbed up on a stool 
Around my neck the rope wrapping 
I pushed the stool away for it was weight bearing 

I woke up in my drool 
On the couch I’d been napping 
Football on the TV was blaring 

Someone knocking, Who is it?  
When I arose all my snacking 
Flew off me in a cloud of junk food

It was my girlfriend come to visit 
But I sent that girl packing 
On Suicide Sunday, I prefer solitude  

Suicide Sunday 
I think it’s common among us 
Its not my own personal quirk 

For the next day is Monday 
And if the noose hasn’t hung us 
We have to get dressed and go back to work 

My girlfriend was furious 
She felt rejected apropos 
She assumed she had an open invitation 

When She calmed down, she was curious 
So I quoted Henry D Thoreau 
“most men live lives of quiet desperation” 

In our cubicles we all cloister 
And To our bosses deferential 
As we suckle on the corporate teat 

The world used to be my oyster 
I used to have so much potential 
And on Suicide Sunday, I must admit my defeat 

Suicide Sunday 
I think it’s common among us 
Its not my own personal quirk 

For the next day is Monday 
And if the noose hasn’t hung us 
We have to get dressed and go back to work 


Why do so many men seem to secretly hate their employment?  
xxIt pays them and feeds them like a hamster fed for running his wheel 
It pays us and feeds us and yet we spend so much energy griping 
Our ancestors broke their backs in the hot sun with not a moment’s enjoyment 
And I’m bitching about sitting in a comfortable chair, in an air conditioned cubicle typing?

The girlfriend is my wife now 
Another company has employed me 
As they say what’s not broke you don’t fix 

I’m content with my life now 
But on Sundays please avoid me 
Cause You can’t teach an old dog new tricks 

I drink a six pack and a bag of chips 
I dream that no one’s gonna save me 
As A rope around my neck’s tightly noosed 

Its on Sundays that I come to grips 
I didn’t use what god gave me 
On Suicide Sundays, my pigeons come to roost

Suicide Sunday 
I think it’s common among us 
Its not my own personal quirk 

For the next day is Monday 
And if the noose hasn’t hung us 
We have to get dressed and go back to work

It's Suicide Sunday!

Billy, the Headless Boy Who Lived Up In Our Attic

I write story songs.   Many of the stories are true.

Watch my videos!  YouTube:   https://youtube.com/@turtlefrogman?feature=shared

Topics:   Sexual fetishes, reincarnation, sleep apnea, women who don't shave, the story of January 6th 2021, COVID, drug use, pizza place robbery, weddings, divorces and funerals, cannibalism, the story of Joe Biden, transgenderism and pronouns, erectile dysfunction, the World Economic Forum, the story of the USS Indianapolis, time machines, accidents with laxatives, school yard fights, proctologists, teen moms, scientific studies, genital warts, generational divides, national divorce, peeping toms, abortion, petty theft, DIY screws and mental health, suicide etc.

I Was Bitten By a Goose in Schaumburg, Illinois

TurtleFrogMan

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