/ j / 2016-07 / 07_r1100

The Failed Medley

Title

The Failed Medley

Post date

07/07/2016 - 11:00

Tags

Feast 10minMedley crapcapella singingcommute

Liner Notes

I thought I might try a sort of companion-challenge to the #3in10 challenge.

Still a 10 minute challenge, but instead of three distinct songs, a medley of songs where each song flows smoothly in to the other.

Unfortunately, I failed. I suffered from what I think of as "lock-in", where I want to make a new song, but I keep singing the old one. It's a great thing to have when you need to mix things up with a bridge but still want to come back to the song that you're improvising, but it's a pain in the butt when you want to drive on through to a new song altogether, only to find you've returned to where you left.

This song was improvised while driving in the car, thanks to my Zoom H1 "Handy Recorder", and a convenient cup holder in my car. It's another experiment at filling otherwise dead time with songs.

An interesting aside: the coughing in this song -- while right on cue -- was not planned. I just happened to get a tickle in my throat.

Lyrics

I like to eat things, yes I do. I like to eat things. How about you? Do you like to eat things? Could it really be true? Do you like to eat things? Like my big brown shoe?

My big brown shoe. My big brown shoe. Do you eat shoes? Like my big shoe? I like my shoe. Nice and brown leather. I like my shoe. And not my heather.

Heather is a color. It’s kind of grey. Heather is a color. And it’s okay. But it’s not brown. No, not at all. And it’s not brown on my little, tall, little, tall, tall, tall

My tall, tall pickle. That’s what I call him Because he’s green on top. My tall, tall, pickle. He sits in my oven. My tall, tall, pickle. I can’t get him off.

I don’t like mold. I don’t like mold. Not even on my pickle. Not even on my pickle. But that’s what I think it just might be if it its not a real little, green, little pickle.

And then I say, look, hey, hey, hey. look, hey, hey, hey. I like to sing my little song and it is not quite long enough.

I think this is the place to turn. Take the song in a different direction if I should. And I think you might agree. This is the place. This is the place.

And so I go. And so I go. I open the door. To the little place. Where you can see.

I am there now. And I’m not eating pickles. I’m eating swill and drinking Wickles. Wickles is a brand, a brand of moonshine. I like it just fine cough, cough, cough but not this time.

And so the doctor, my doctor says go to bed, bed, bed for your head. So I sleep all night. Until the dark of the day. Because in this place, that’s what they say.

And I hope you like to sleep you’ll sleep a good long time if you were me. I do think you’d see the sleep is fine for you and me.

And so, we sleep all day and sleep all night. That’s just the way. And in the moonlight, I do think I might see a something flying in the sky.

It does glow, oh not at all. That thing in in the sky it just falls, falls, falls.

The falling snow. The falling snow. I think the precipitation glows. I think it might be just fine Except for nuclear nine.

The reactor it just blew. And that kind of sucks because I’m blue, blue blue. I’m blue, blue, blue.

And in the dark, dreary night as my flesh crisps and thunders right I think I’ll go eat donuts now, if I can move where I’m glued now. And so, I go, once again. So I’ve been through ash like it’s my friend.

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp-stomp. Stomp, stomp, stomp— Oh, look, it is Bob. He used to be this little dog. but he’s now he’s a mutant, and that’s fun. He is a mutant horse-like thing and I can ride him while I sing.

And so we go to the grocery. He is my steed, and I’m still me. At least, that’s what I think now. We’ll see just what I feel like now. Will I eat something that’s super weird? Like glowing fetuses with three ears? Let’s eat. Let’s eat. I’m hungry for some fetus feet. Let’s eat. Let’s eat. I’m hungry for some fetus feet.

And then, I woke up that day. I thought maybe I’d eat some hay, because I was suddenly a cow. I moo-mooed and then I chewed now. I chewed my cud, it was fun. I had chambered hearts, but not quite nine. I ate. I ate. I did not put it on my plate. I ate. I ate. I did not think of using my plate.

Cows don’t use plates, not at all. They think they’re weird and that’s not all. They like to sing while they toot their butts. They toot some songs, and that is yuck. Toot, toot! Toot, toot! Toot, toot, toot, toot toot-toot.

Cows they are really neat. Not quite neat as forked feet. With forks filled in and maybe thorns upon their little green horns. Four glorious horns! That is why they’re not me.

Because I think I am a bee. Buzzy-buzz, Buzzy-buzz. Now I’m a bee, and that’s the buzz. Buzzy-buzz, Buzzy-buzz. Now I’m a bee, and that’s the buzz.

I think I might eat some honey. It is sweet and not so runny. But if I were a bee, I’d make it. But I would never think to bake it. They use their food to grow some babies in a tube. They use their food to grow some babies in a tube.

I think queens are really neat. I’d worship one with pretty feet. But maybe not quite that way. But I’d find something, that’s what I say. I’d worship a queen. I’d be really kind and never mean. I’d worship a queen. I’d be really nice and never mean.

Then when I grew up, I’d say. That was something, I guess its a—. But then I would drink some more. And tell some stories, oh, boy. I’d drink some drink and sing some stories and then think. I’d drink and think and sing some stories, that’s what I think. I’d sing some stories, that’s what I think.

And now I would write a book. A lovely book, yeah, that is cool. I like to write and then I think: I’d use something other than ink. I’d use my food. I’d write with my food and it might ooze. I’d use my food. I’d write with food and it might ooze.

My food, it might make some art, and it might smell really smart. It might look something really weird like glowing pickles with fat beards. They’d glow for show. They’d be fat pickles with beards. They’d glow for the show. They’d be fat pickles with lovely beards.

And when the story ends. I’d sing with all of my new friends. That is what is what I think I’d do. Maybe you, and you and you!