The Kingdom of Idiot Rock
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Songs from PopCanon's 1997 debut The Kingdom of Idiot Rock |
Man, we love to
rock!
Anyway, anywhere--name the time, we'll be there.
We like to play first, and then we go to sleep.
Mike, he's got
low 'B'.
Ned
plays the flat five, gonna keep himself alive.
Dave he loves to sing, and
Robby's a nice guy!
And it's always fun to play with Alyson.
Lorien on violin, very good at listenin'.
Donny's got a squonky tone on his little saxophone
(saxomaphone,
that is!)
(solo as necessary...)
And when we finally reach the
pentagram,
You bend a
spoon
like Uri Geller.
The smog is rising over Birmingham . . .
Throw a penny to the
storyteller.
Ice on the sidewalk is all that I can see.
I recognize you because you look just like me.
Around the coroner, we're playing
possum.
You look like a
ghost,
but you smell like an
orange blossom.
And when my turn finally comes around,
You make a
sign like
Helen
Keller.
Then you pin my skinny shoulders down . . .
Throw a penny to the story
teller.
In the dark we hear that voice again,
Whining softly in the
cellar . . .
Throw a penny to the
storyteller.
Aw, kid, you see what you did?
You let the tapwater run, you left your
zipper
undone.
Must we always look out for you kid?
Ain't you ashamed to be seen? Where's your sense of hygiene?
You'll go too far, too far, too far.
This song could be about a band that I like
But I admit to my shame all it's about is their name.
'Not so!' comes the
word from Dave's mic--
'I dig their sound: now I'm'a get down!'
('You know, it's like two songs at once.'
Fuck you, Dad! Get outta my room!')
Too far, too far, too far.
You know you've gone too far, and that's far enough.
:Chorus:
And no one's ever seen her
Under her bridge in Mendocino
Wanda's got her eyes on the Pulitzer prize
She'll tell her friend St. Thomas
to add a chapter on us.
I wonder what she'll do now that her work is through.
She's standing somewhere waiting to watch the airplanes
mating.
chorus
She's got a get-up-and-go-etry.
She's got a Pynchon for
poetry.
And the AVA will tell her they're on her side.
Wanda was full of rage back in the Reagan age,
But now she's fallen silent. At least she isn't violent.
I know so much about her, how could I live without her?
She's standing somewhere waiting to watch the airplanes mating.
chorus
Forever watching waiting hoping thinking never praying
Believing always that the key lay in
philosophy--
It's more reli'ble than the bible
and it keeps me staying
Complete and sane and never tries to hang a
cross
on me:
One day you'll see why I disbelieve.
Look past your nice plaster
Saints and see their feet of clay...
Is it just me? Is it just me? Or could it possibly be YOU?!
You and all your
secret
sacred texts
and threats and
drinks--
Your mind is numb, you have become the things you will not see
Your blindness to me can't disguise my true humanity
And though you don't believe it I don't care
what your god thinks:
You're the reason why I disbelieve.
In history, no mystery
So famous could shame us more...
There's nothing I would rather do
Than stick your tiny
head
into a vice (vice!)
& make you hear what I must say
& promise not to make me say it twice (two times!)
'Cos I always gave you
good
advice
& I always thought your brother, he was
Nice...
And on
Valentine's
Day your brother told me he was gay
& he loves me more than I love you.
There's nothing I would rather say
Than our time together has been worthwhile
But I promised I would never lie to you,
& I could never hide the truth behind a smile.
But I always thought you had great style
For a spoiled silly flatulent child.
And next
Valentine's Day
I want to have my way
With your brother & with you.
Three in a canoe. Three in a canoe.
That's all I want to do.
Only me & you.
And your brother too.
Twenty three skidoo.
It's all I want to do.
René, René -
you sit around and meditate.
René, René -
you drink your coffee and
stay up
late.
But I can't say that you've wasted your day really.
Logic is my best defense against you against you.
If I were a musketeer
I'd fence you fence you.
And if I were an evil genius
I would then
Deal the cards so I would win.
René,
René -
plotting
on your x,y axes.
René,
René - did you get your mail
from Thurn & Taxis?
But I can't say that you've
wasted
your day really.
I think
therefore I'm disappointed.
I think that's a pretty good reason
To be an anti-anti-anti-Cartesian.
And If I were an evil
genius I would then
Lead you to the edge of
sin,
Trip you up and push you in,
Hold you til it burned your skin,
Deal with God so I would always win.
René, René -
I don't doubt you're so inclined.
René,
René -
the problem's in your body and your
mind.
But I can't say that you've wasted your day really.
Wrecked the boat on a reef, didn't know what to do
Some
dolphins
rescued me (as dolphins do):
I gave 'em my clothes to wear.
They made me their king and we frolicked in the waves
I made them jump through a ring.
After one year I couldn't take any more--
Took my clothes back and waded into shore.
In the jungle I found a
treasure map
But I didn't find anything so I took a nap.
While I was sleeping the
time
passed, the tide rose
And I woke up the next morning with a
fish
in my nose:
This fish was magic! It knew how to
talk and it
Told me strange tales
of a land of
Tea and
Chalk.
Set out to find it among the tree roots
For our protection had to wear our moon boots...
Six years later we'd found nothing
Except a bottle cap and a ball of string.
I was
lucky
enough to know
How to take these things and make a
radio
Tried to listen for how to get back
But I heard instead about the
bee
attack.
I heard instead about the
bee attack.
(This all happened-- it's all really true.)
You suffered in your silence
As we passed around the
Guinness.
I must admit your stoicism started to win us.
But I still couldn't look at you
Without feeling.
The scene supported you, but
I said
Bloomsday must be doomsday this year.
You stood there looking down upon us
With your drunken grin.
In the land of the
Lotus-Eaters,
Leopold Bloom said
"Iron Nails Ran
In."
The scene supported you but I
said
Bloomsday must be doomsday this year.
Pierre Menard rewrote the
'Quixote'--
he did not look
at Cervantes' book.
And 'The Lottery in Babylon' and 'Encyclopedia of Tlön':
The Library
goes on and on and on and
we fear
and revere the Tetragrammaton.
:Chorus:
In
Argentina, In Buenos Aires,
Jorge
Luis Borges guards the doorways.
'stos secretos, tienen razon, en labyrintos--
These hints make sense in the labyrinths...
Of Orbus
Tertius: its history unfolds for us.
Fire and smoke: an association of ideas."
And the
terror of its
mythologies, its emperors
and its seas,
minerals, algebra and architecture and its
theological, metaphysical controversies.
chorus
I'm standing here with my
hair in the
air
Trying not to
scream
Wearing thin my laissez faire
And searching for a dream
Searching... (Too Many Mikes)
Strange timing,
worse rhyming
Snatch silk from a
sow
all climbing, nickel-and-diming
What happens now?
I'm standing here flushed and
fear
Scraping clean
the cream
Can't keep living in the now and here
And searching for a dream
Searching... (Too Many Mics)
Your Santa's beard
and your witch's hat--they offer me no relief.
You'll promise anything to get what you need but you are
beyond
belief.
It's always something else or someone you needed who
let you down in the end
But if this present isn't pleasant than you shouldn't mind
going suddenly around the bend.
I can't explain a thing that happens to you though I know you want me to.
I'm not your mom or dad or
'special
friend' who knows you better than you
do.
If I'd eternity
to figure it out still I'd never tell you a word
'Cause if this spotlight doesn't penetrate your
bitter mind
it's been worth it just to throw you a curve.
:Chorus:
It seems your
secret was the
treasure of the temple
You're so derivative.
All your spirits flying, multiplying by the number three.
All your rituals of ancient fucked up pantheologies.
chorus
Kiss my ass you might unleash the
demon
hiding in my spine.
Leave a trail of prayers or I'll never know what happened to your mind.
chorus
Every little room
begins a story,
Then you just wander through the story
I was sorry for the parts I knew I'd miss.
I could spend the rest of my whole life doing this.
This is beginning to piss me off.
Is he digging my
ass or a
hole in the ground?
I just want to burn this Hypertext
Hotel down.
Down down down.
Sat down and interconnected,
It was so diverse I didn't expect to
Find so much about which I don't give a damn.
But I'm not the
grouch
you probably think I am.
This is beginning to
piss
me off.
Is he digging my
ass
with a pole from the ground?
I just want to burn this
hypertext
hotel down.
Down down down.
You might as well just live your life.
You might as well just live your life.
Maybe I'm not being fair, but look
Here, Robert Coover!
I really liked you when you used to write books.
But this is beginning to piss me off,
Is he poling my ass or digging the
ground?
I just want to burn this
Hypertext
Hotel down.
Down down down down.
You might as well just live your life.
You might as well just live your life.
(Locrian!)
We always know we're gonna see delightful antique finery,
A timely pocketbook and pointy shoes.
You stand your ground, won't be ignored, as you pound on the keyboard,
Singing so sweet and high and true.
You play so smart and hard and loud doing ten jackhammers proud,
The one and only - Rock Boy!
(drum solo)
:Chorus:
Paul,
Andy,
Corey
. . . Rock Boy.
The Curse of Clang.
Bend your knees and flex your biceps, point your
bass up to the sky
Crush a beer can on your head.
As you let the spotlight flicker on your
Iron Maiden sticker:
Colonize your monitor!
'Stead of a blazing
axe
solo, Paul will rock the
glock.
Sarcasm weeps from his guitar.
If he seems a little out of reach, it's because he is the teacher.
It's how he pushes pop so far.
All songs written and performed by PopCanon,
except where noted. All songs copyright © 1995-2000 PopCanon.
Recorded during 1996-1997 and produced by Ron Richter & PopCanon.
Last modified: Tue Feb 8 11:09:57 EST
