All the settings were wrong on my recording gear, but the vibe was good so here we go.

Pile of Corpses (Better Than Sock)

It's all still so clear to me
Even details minute
Sangria at Le Bistro
A roadtrip in the boot

The owner's name was Jean Paul
The waiter's Little Joe
And Paul Simon was the soundtrack
As I curled up for the road

The laughs were loud, the beer was cold
And I was in my prime
And I cannot shake the feeling
That I knew it at the time

After hours with the Popo
Karaoke at the Blue
Ultimate J has ordered chips
And he'll offer some to you

It's not a clip show, it's a theme show
And it's airing for good reason
After so long as the second lead
You'll just cameo next season

The laughs were loud, the beer was cold
And I was in my prime
And I cannot shake the feeling
That I knew it at the time

Oh man it is such a drag that, stocking up on running gags,
The time to run 'em ran away and though y'know I'll be okay
It seems a shame that all those shows we tossed around,
While in repose, like "Vote for Dave" and "Sixteen Tonnes"
We coulda got one of 'em done

Vic, she knew I had the keys
And you never had to knock

Pile of corpses better than sock
Pile of corpses better than sock
Pile of corpses better than sock

We laughed a lot

Pile Of Corpses (Better Than Sock)

For Rhea
Written (2018) and recorded (2024) by W D Muirhead

He's a man without faith, he's a dog without trust
All of his insides rusting up, yeah he's fillin' with dust
She's a car on the blocks, her ignition is shot
Gives 'em all she has to give, but right now that's not a lot

So if they do not make it, baby
It's not for want of trying
Just three straight weeks of living, maybe
Before they get to dyin'
Before they get to dyin'

You're the promise of sunrise, you're a house on the hill
And yeah, I'd like to live there, but I know I never will
You're a dip in the ocean, you're a break in the fast
And all these things I'm feeling: sure, none of 'em will last.

So when I do not make it, baby
Know it's not for lack of trying
I'd like three weeks of living, maybe
Before I get to dyin'
Before I get to dyin'

And the sun will only last a few billion years
Before it's past. And the night will only creep
Through these hours I refuse to go to sleep

So if we do not make it, baby,
It's not for lack of trying
Just three more weeks of living, maybe
Before I get to dyin'
Yeah, before I get to dyin'.

Before We Get To Dying

Words, music and playing by W. D. Muirhead

Hey there, how's it going? What's the status of your knees?
Your favourite food for breakfast? Are you a fan or foe of bees?

Can you fart around your parents? Does your mum try not to smirk?
What's the colour of your sofa? Do you pack a lunch for work?

Have you ever tried to paint the rain? What's your stance on boats?
When you're designing castles, do you emphasise the moats?

Would you like to grab a bite some time? Do you have a fav'rit feather?
Should we just download some movies and pretend there isn't weather?

Do you have a view on zoos? I do, though sure they're problematic
Have you ever heard a detuned radio conjure poems from the static?

What's The Best Kiss that you ever had? Did it shoot down to your feet?
Have you ever tried to name that moment when past and future meet?

What's your favourite jacket like? Are your pockets full of tears?
And just for fun, you can keep one: Days, or months, or years?

Would you like to grab a bite some time? I bet that jacket's leather
Or should we just download some movies and pretend there isn't weather?

Outline your perfect ending, please. Describe a righteous middle
The beginning's done already and is no start for a riddle

What's the angriest you've ever been? The last time you felt broken?
The biggest thought you've ever had that's, up 'till now, unspoken?

Have you ever named a pigeon? Have you argued with a tree?
If the tent fell down on Swithin's Day would you ram it with your knee?

Do you cry at acts of kindness? Do you rage at pointless hurt?
Shall we sell all of our belongings and start over in a yurt?

Would you like to grab a bite some time? Shall we buy a house in France?
You could learn the language and I could learn to dance

Would you like to grab a drink some time? There's no time like forever
We could ask a million questions and none of them about the weather

None of them about the weather.

Here Are Some Questions I Might Ask You, Given The Opportunity

Words, music, recording: W. D. Muirhead

I was talkin' to Shaun, who has previous form
In hitching his cart
To an unstable horse, who with powerful force
Put a hoof through his heart
And he says, man, you can't blame the nag
If an unstable horse is your bag
You'd be better off smokin' a fag
And decide not to start

And yet I always do 

I was drinking with Millie, who'd been driven half silly
By this guy that she knew
A tattoo on her femur of a ring-tailed lemur
It marked the day that she grew
To recognise that she's better than that
On her ankle there's a blunt-smoking cat
And next year maybe an astronaut rat
Cos people do what they do

I guess in my case that's you

Going outta my head and you goin' way offa yours
We may be nuts but at least we're not bores
And we're not breaking any state laws
Least as far as I know

Well anyway, Larry, this dude that he married
Well, he caught the bug
For investing in crypto, thought it was hip, so
Larry paused to shrug
Said, "Sure we just lost everything.
Our clothes and the house and the ring
But when he's happy that makes my heart sing
Like a church or a drug.

You think that makes me a mug?"

Going outta my head and you goin' way offa yours
We may be nuts but at least we're not bores
And we're not breaking any state laws
Least as far as I know

But how do you know?

I was all by myself, when a mischievous elf
Appeared in my mind
Said, "Sure man, she's crazy, but you're fucking lazy
Ain't it 'bout time?
To aim this boat straight at the rocks
And welcome all the electrical shocks
And hide all my cash in my socks
Lock pockets and picket all locks
Claim the best kind of footwear is crocs
And open yourself to the knocks
And say, what's yours is mine."

Think I'm doing just fine.
No. Think I'm doing just fine.

Going outta my head, you goin' way offa yours
We may be nuts but at least we're not boars
And we're not breaking any state laws
But as far as it goes

I think my answer is no.
I think my answer is no.
I think my answer is no.
I think my answer is no.

But how can you know?

Picketing Locks

Daughter said to the man in the lake:
"All I that I possess is all yours to take."
Mules and mutton, brooch and pearls
He proffers multitudes, she offers worlds

Daughter said to the man on the sty:
"Explain to me that careful cast of your eye."
Mules and mutton, brooch and pearls
He proffers multitudes, she offers worlds

Daughter said to the man in the pew:
"Accept all of me and I'll accept all of you"
Mules and mutton, brooch and pearls
He proffers multitudes, she offers worlds

Daughter said as the ship, she set sail:
"You be the school of kelp and I'll be the whale."
Mules and mutton, brooch and pearls
He proffers multitudes, she offers worlds

Daughter said, as the waters rose high:
"Till death do part, I guess, though I don't know why."
Mules and mutton, brooch and pearls
He proffered multitudes while she offered worlds

Daughter clambered up and clung to a plank
Floated for an hour or so, 'till then too she sank
Mules and mutton, brooch and pearls
Are just four of the things you can lose in this world

Mules and mutton, brooches and pearls
Are just four of the things to lose in this world

Mules And Mutton

Words by Branch Franchise, music by Ham Jampies

An early farewell to a friend.

Dee's Song

All songs written and recorded by W. D. Muirhead, except "I Could Vibrate" performed by Like Sexy Elephants (W. D. Muirhead and Chris "Not That One" Martin)

SIDE ONE
1. I Could Vibrate  
2. This Doesn't Mean Anything
3. Chunk o' Change (In My Pocket)
4. Of Course, I'll Take You Anywhere
5. Picketing Locks (Lock Picketer)

SIDE TWO
6. Hey Day
7. Feeling Down in Song
8. Before We Get To Dying
9. Every Wind
10. Here Are Some Questions I Might Ask You, Given The Opportunity

Pilgrim at the Rockface (FULL RECORD)

Words and music and guitar and harp by W. D. Muirhead

I'm unreasonably angry at the nonsense on display
Suspect of sublime banalities, such as when you say:
"Let's turn off the lights at night, then the world will be alright"
'Cos that's a load of hooey, and I must put up a fight

It's all capitalism, a cannibalistic infrastructure
All of this is structural and we're all eating each other
It's all capitalism, and the kids shan't feel relieved
To learn that most recycling goes to landfills overseas

Well, is ignorance a fair defence? Good intent a factor?
The end result of either is a win for the buck and tractor
Guess who loses, first of all, when the coasts are underwater?
The Global South's they and them, sons and mums and daughters

It's all capitalism, our cannibalistic infrastructure
All of this is structural and we're all eating each other
It's all just capitalism, and the kids should plain be told
That the world they were born into won't exist when they're old

And I see that I am unreasonable for shitting on a tune
That knows the end is coming, and may be coming soon
And tries to make things better, wants to inspire hope
When all I've got's the equivalent of pissing up a rope

But it's all just capitalism, cannibalistic infrastructure
All of this is structural and we're all eating each other
It's all just capitalism, and your kids shan't feel improved
When the oceans take their houses and they're all compelled to move

"Teach the children" says Graham Nash, but Graham Nash,
Awash with cash, is just some dumb celebrity
Without a clue or true degree
Of understanding of the micro-city -
Please, please, don't put your faith in hippies

All Of This Is Structural (A Response)

Words and music by W. D. Muirhead

The world done let us down
And messed us all around
Turned a ceiling into ground
Yeah the world done let us down

The world done let us down
Inciting and unsound
We lost all that we found
Yeah the world done let us down

We try now to recall that feeling, ten feet tall
But the world won't let us grow
It just wants us down below

A joke is just a jest for the player plannin' rest
For the singer and the song
It's just a way to play along

When the world done let us down
And messed us all around
Turned a ceiling into ground
Yeah the world done let us down

And I let you down too
In all the ways I usually do
Yeah and I let you down too
In a coupla new ways too

But that slight tilt of your chin, feel I might begin
To scale the wall, and chains
Tattooed across my brains

Time to manifest all our sadness and unrest
So I'll meet you in the streets
Where our hearts and the drums will beat

'Gainst this world that let us down
And messed us all around
But we can yet turn around
This ol' world that let us down

This ol' world that lets us down
We can still turn it around

The World Done Let Us Down

Words, music, guitar, harp, vox: W D Muirhead

The Last Smoker in Melbourne

Well, the sky's as blue as a curate's balls
An' sweet and low as the black crow's calls
An' the streets are clean as a bishop's shit
But the last smoker in Melbourne is just lookin' for a place to sit

Well, the zoo's as good as any in the proud Antipodes
Arts and culture - much and many, silver city by the sea
Towerin' to eternity, man, those buildings are the tit
But the last smoker in Melbourne is just lookin' for a place to sit

To light a dart and drink a beer
"I'm sorry, mate, can't do that here
We like our air and our lungies clear."
So the last smoker in Melbourne cannot rest his derriere
No, the last smoker in Melbourne cannot rest his derriere

An' it may be wrong, that toxic pong, but somehow I still miss it
And show me now an ashtray, wow, I think that I might kiss it

Under skies as blue as a curate's balls
An' sweet and low as the black crow caws
On streets shinin' clean as a bishop's shit
The last smoker in Melbourne is still lookin' for a place to sit

To light a dart and drink a beer
"I'm sorry, mate, can't do that here
We like our air and our lungies clear."
So the last smoker in Melbourne, he just wanders here and there
Yes, the last smoker in Melbourne, still searching for that dart and beer

The last smoker in Melbourne!
The last smoker in Melbourne!
The last smoker in Melbourne, he's still searching for that dart and beer

The Last Smoker in Melbourne

Words and music etc

"Is that an organ in the background?"
She asked, in bright pink dress
And yes, it was an organ
And so I answered, "Yes."

And the Beach Boys kept on playing
A very weird song
And the Beach Boys kept on singing
And I didn't sing along

"So, what've you done lately?"
I enquired 'bout her art
"Pasta prints and serviettes"
Which, sure, pinched at my heart

And the Beach Boys kept on playing
A very weird song
And the Beach Boys kept on singing
And I didn't sing along

With one foot in the grave 
And one foot in the sand
With one foot in the grave and all
And one foot on dry land

"It's not your fault," she said to me,
"Though I get why you might feel so."
Cue a rush of strange emotions
I'm too smart to think are real though

But the Beach Boys kept on playing
A very weird song
And the Beach Boys kept on singing
So I tried to sing along

Just like at the Flaming Lips, I'm sure it was a racket
But just like at the Flaming Lips, I had my leather jacket.

Pile Of Corpses (Better Than Sock)

Sparky Gervis

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