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lyrics

It weren't coincidence it was consequence
That dropped the dime and put out a hit -
The hit that ended the lifespan of your lifestyle.
And as with any device smiles, after miles, do erode.

It's like this...

The hissing component the delicate tart
The tell-tale thud of a bloated heart.
Disheveled and leveled but functional just the same.
And no ruse is good news.
That's my position, anyway.
An avid proponent of minimal harm
The tell-tale throb of a broken arm
A celibate man with a bitter hand.

Let your prayers ring out for all the metaphors that died in vain.
There's no glory in the stories told to vilify the left half of the brain.
And when cruel is the rule
Well then I shall lead the way.
Whom did you do
Well then I shall do the same.

Come the wet-ass hour I am everybody's Daddy.
When the drama comes to call I am sworn to pay it mind.
Spit, shake, give it a name, christen it with Calamine.
When indiscretion seeks a suitor I am destined to oblige.

That's right.

A stiff imitation of a nonchalance
The elegant air of non-response
An evening better spent with cyanide.
Indecision is only an issue for the uninspired.
That's my opinion anyway.
The knick-a-knacks, the bric-a-brac.
The tryst of Kitty Hix in fact
I myself was once El Capitan.

This boy's lost his zeal since the olfactory burnt down
Ruttin' and rootin' I make fisticuffs in the hopes of catching a flirtatious advance from my future ex-wife.
Chivalry is alive.

Let your prayers ring out for all the metaphors that died in vain.
There's no glory in the stories told to vilify the left half of the brain.
And when cruel is the rule
Well then I shall lead the way.
Whom did you do
Well then I shall do the same.

Come the wet-ass hour I am everybody's Daddy.
When the drama comes to call I am sworn to pay it mind.
Spit, shake, give it a name, and christen it with Calamine.
When indiscretion seeks a suitor I am destined to oblige.

Let your prayers ring out for all the metaphors that died in vain.
There's no glory in the stories told to vilify the left half of the brain.
Oh let your prayers ring out for all the metaphors that died in vain.
There's no glory in the stories told to vilify the left half of the brain.

How's it ya do what you do when you do who you do what ya do when you do who ya do-ah.

How's it ya do what you do when you do who you do what ya do when you do who ya do-ah.

credits

from Old Fashioned Sass For The Peacock and The Voyeur, released April 11, 2003
Recorded & Engineered by Jaime Hansen

Music: Michael Franklin, Dojo Holliday, Greg Schaal, Jeff Smieding
Lyrics: Dojo Holliday

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Kentucky Gag Order Minneapolis, Minnesota

Thanks for the memories.

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