1. |
Stood Up
02:32
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STOOD UP
You said you’d meet me at quarter to five
And I’m sitting in the quarter past six café
The Chinese girl brings another fortune cookie
And it’s cracked like the coffee cup
It says:
Na Na, na na na na, hey poor boy
And I’m still sitting here
Wish you were here
But you never showed up
I guess you stood me up
It’s just me and the cup
I guess you stood me up
Why you left me here?
Got to the bottom of my coffee cup
Expected a duck
But no luck
I’m still here at the quarter to seven slot
Another cobweb on the hands of the clock
Na Na, na na na na, hey poor boy
And I’m still sitting here
Wish you were here
But you never showed up
It’s just me and the cup
I guess you stood me up
‘Cause you never showed up
Why you left me here?
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2. |
Get Lost Helen Of Troy
03:59
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GET LOST HELEN OF TROY
Get lost
Get lost
You towering song
History has got it wrong
There’s a fish in my pocket
‘
Cause I’m happy to see you
You are the wind between my ears
You glowering joke
Your eyes form the green cloth of billiards
There’s an armed Gideon in this crazy refrain
I’d like to eat your apple on a Saturday Night
I’d like to ride your appaloosa on the Isle of Wight
Get lost Helen of Troy
You hold the cards
And I’m only a poor boy who
Came out to play
In Chalk shadow plays
You’ve out crowned the kings
In need of the things
You hold in such plentiful supply
A mouse ran across my foot
But I still heard her say,
“Look at me, Matthew,
It’s all for you,”
Then she jumped, jerked back
And bust out a window
Get lost
You flowering goat
You know I can’t make it to see you tonight
And your fist-loaded vision of dynamite
You sure messed up
Sancho Panza and Chantal Daigle
Get lost Helen of Troy
I’m paid to stand
While you sit on your royal throne
You struck a match on my forehead
And after the fever’s eclipse
I knew it wasn’t your face
That launched a thousand ships
Get lost
Fading proudly in the twilight
Of abjection
My knees won’t buckle to bathe
In the light of your immaculate rejection
Get lost
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3. |
To Kill A Catholic
01:47
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TO KILL A CATHOLIC
To kill a Catholic, man
It takes something out of God
The wit that it takes is not far from the truth
That death casts a kindershine
On mediocrity
What makes a word liable to start a fire?
In what distant land where they don’t understand
Your definition of hell
They haven’t forgotten this aside to the dying
A footnote to an epitaph –
Best left as a P.S.
A life played for keeps in the grip of a fist
Then you’re dragging it around
Like some damn crucifix
What makes a prayer leave this world stillborn?
Whose distant hearts are secretly warmed
By your definition of obsolescence?
They answered a battle cry so terribly strong
It would curdle your heart if you heard it sung
Heads are alive with a call to marches
A call to psalms – My God
Je voix une croix
What makes a word liable to start a fire?
In what distant land where they don’t understand
Your definition of hell
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4. |
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ON TOP OF MACDONALD BRIDGE
I feel good right now
At this place, at this time
I climbed to where I am right now
Came up here with a deck of cards
And cigarettes from St. Pierre - Miquelon
My shoes always slip on the last rung
The cars glow past beneath me now
The harbour wind is wet on my face
And I burned the suits off of the cards
And sent them blowing far off
To Sable Island
I can see the lights of the city
I can see my own apartment
I can see the light’s on in the kitchen
I got my kerosene lamp
And a wool hat from Norway
It’s harder to get down when it’s raining
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5. |
Prize For Writing
02:27
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PRIZE FOR WRITING
The governor-general with the hard-to-say name
Has given me a prize for writing
I haven’t written a thing
In ten months’ time
But they’ve given me a prize for writing
I ransacked the library for inspiration
And I vandalized Chandler’s grave
I slammed it out all crotchety like Dorothy Parker
And they’ve given me a prize for writing
A prize for writing! A prize for writing!
They might as well pay me for lying
Something I can sell to pay the bills
But the typewriter keys are still bent
Slurring everything I had written
Obscured all but my intent
And they’ve given me a prize for writing
A prize for writing! A prize for writing!
They might as well pay me for lying
I jumped up and down when they gave me a good thing
And they’ve given me a prize for writing
Incoherency merely for relevancy’s sake
And they’ve given me a prize for writing
I was bragging ‘bout the consequences
Of derangement of the senses
Already forming itself into sentences
And they’ve given me a prize for writing
A prize for writing! A prize for writing!
They might as well pay me for lying
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6. |
We've All Got Scars
02:42
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WE’VE ALL GOT SCARS
I’m the kind of boy
All the parlours enjoy
I won’t dent their cushions
I know just how they feel
Nine years old and I can never fall down
My little body’s just a little like a china shop
The world is a bull
And I’m a waving red flag
I can’t tell you why
That’s another story
I can’t come home muddy
I just read the Hardy Boys and things I study
All the other boys and girls
Dreaming of their summer
Jumping jacks and running
Alongside the railroad tracks
What a bummer
But I can fly!
Three cheers for little Bobby
I’m the pay dirt of averages
One in a million kind of kid
I’m just like that parlour
Always seen and never did
Can of worms and Rosaries
Everything a house should be
Catching footballs, leaving dents
Like bananas bruised black
Organs drowning in my blood
Like bananas bruised black
Three cheers for little Bobby
Are you there?
Little Bobby?
Little Bobby, are you there?
Are you there?
Are you there?
Are you there little Bobby?
Little Bobby, are you there?
Are you there?
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7. |
Return To Onion Lake
04:01
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RETURN TO ONION LAKE
Why don’t you go back to Onion Lake?
A world where you always fit in
They don’t cop to that Moose Jaw attitude
And all of that jiving around
Well, I broke down in Turtleford
And I hitched a ride south in a K-car
The driver said he’d take me to Buzzard
But he drove me instead to Onion Lake
Well, I was drinking in Smiley
And we heard about a party in Druid
I passed out in the back seat en route
And I woke up alone in Onion Lake
Why don’t you go back to Onion Lake?
You never fit in around here
You can go down to Lloydminster weekly
And dance with the big city girls
Well, I met a shy girl in White Fox
Stamping letters at a penny a shot
She told me she came from Carrot River
But the tag on her wig said Onion Lake
She told me about a drifter from Forgon
Who got a job in Uranium City
He was making 60 K per annum
‘Til they found his head
In a mailbox in Onion Lake
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8. |
We're Back
03:06
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WE’RE BACK
Here’s three big hellos
Hello we’re back
We’re back
We’re here to attack
All those who put us down
Dragged us from underground
We still remember how you loved us
And said nice things about us
We’re back
You once so proudly sang that
People gathered ‘round
Dragged us from underground
We’re back
We never meant a thing we said
Just fucking with your heads
Here’s the final kiss-off
It’s the boot that’s aimed to kick your ass
We’re back
We need you
We miss you
You didn’t hurt us
We didn’t hear you
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9. |
Shoulda Got Porn
01:31
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SHOULDA GOT PORN
Not tonight
I think that I’ll find a headache’s gonna break out
I’m just gonna wait it out
Oh yeah
I’m waiting for my deus ex machina
“No longer shaved” written on the subpoena
Where was I on a Sunday morn?
Gabriel choked on his warning horn
Jesus told me I should never’ve been born
He was a little uptight...
Let’s run the world just the way we want
Just you and I in a crowd of ourselves
Fired as the pedophiles’ convention house band
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10. |
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BREAKING UP DRUNK ON NEW YEAR’S EVE
Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.
Silver bells are chiming
I guess we hate each other
Let’s ring them in silence
In silence
Maybe some cabbie’ll go home with a fifty
That I gave him instead of a two
Too bad he didn’t take you
You threw the Christmas wreath in the street
On New Year’s Eve
Our suburban street
Industrial city
East of Chicoutimi
Turn a quarter over outside
It’s better than wishing on a star
Nowhere else, in this town, you’d believe
Breaking up drunk on New Year’s Eve
I could see the sun coming up
As I puked in the sink
We’ve stumbled and fell
Deep in the bad shit well
The bad shit well
Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.
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11. |
Arms Dealers Blues
01:52
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ARMS DEALER BLUES
When you’re old, you’ll know
That what you damned as a kid
It’ll damn you right back
Came naked for my funeral
And I’m feeling kind of vulnerable now
If I sold to the British
And I sold to the Irish
I’ve changed neither side of their equation
Yeah, rationalizing came with age
And sin has paid me minimum wage
What once was ethics
Now just seems pathetic
I keep my pepper in an empty grenade
Now it’s just the salt shaker keeping me afraid
I ain’t got much gravy
But I got a lot of savvy
I got a new head
Full of bad ideas
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12. |
Solzhenitsyn Rocks
02:11
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SOLZHENITSYN ROCKS
Joanie was late as she walked into schoo
l
They all said, “Look!
There goes an unbroken rule.”
All that I’m trying to do
Is carry your books home from school
They’re going to toast you someday
They’re going to roast you someday
They’re going to try and try
To turn your mind around
But it makes no difference
They’re going to toast you someday
They’re going to roast you someday
Solzhenitsyn Rocks!
Like that Polish vodka that I want to try out
I want to try it out
What’s it all about?
Can you help me out?
(Give me a minute... I’ll get the energy up)
Solzhenitsyn Rocks!
Like that Polish vodka that I want to try out
I want to drag it out
Like a shoe in a gopher hole
Like the goalie at the penalty score
I’m going to pretend that‘s it’s snowing today
He stood outside of the wastelands
And what do you suddenly know?
All of his life he’d be covered in snow
Now where in the hell can a poor boy go
When Solzhenitsyn Rocks?
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13. |
Save The Narwhal
02:47
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SAVE THE NARWHAL
I came home on Sunday morning
While Madonna was still yawning
She said, “How’s your morning been?
You know I can’t sleep when
Someone’s always telling me
I gotta Save The Narwhal”
I was late on Monday morning
My boss said, “Well, here’s fair warning:
I can’t take your sleeping in
You really should have been
Up there a oat on Greenpeace boats
To save the Narwhal”
I went drinking with some friends
And we went to The Living End
Behind the bar was Jim
I said, “I’ll have a shot of gin.”
He said, “I can’t serve you alcohol
If you won’t save the Narwhal”
Save the Narwhal
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14. |
Bambi Is Free
04:01
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BAMBI IS FREE
Nobody likes me. Nobody likes me. Nobody likes me.
Let the whales beach themselves
Stand on your own two feet
And get o of my back
You’re not the one under attack
When St. George of Arc slew the dragon
They jumped on the band wagon
Some rode on the corpse it was dragging
The princess gets her wishes
A stage on Kleenex kisses
But the tomato misses
Be here Forever. Be here Forever. Be here Forever.
If you talk slow, then I’ve made up my mind
It means you’re too dumb to remember your lines
And you don’t get no second time
Bambi is Free
You can’t blame that on me
You’ll have to fight it out with Walt Disney
I think I shall overdose on this grassy knoll
I think I shall overdose
I think I shall overdose every time that we’re close
You can tell me that I got no hope
In a world that’s got enough rope
To cinch me tight around the throat
Bambi is Free
You can’t blame that on me
You’ll have to fight it out with Walt Disney
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15. |
Closing Theme
03:20
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CLOSING THEME
Let your daughters off the back porch
Dressed in lace and lilac linen
Take their hands and hush their giggling
The closing theme has come to town
Tie your grandfather’s bow tie
Give him a boutonniere and straw hat
And sit him down into his lawn chair
He sits up close so he can see
And we’ll all be there
In our Sunday suits
And our graduation dress
Goodbye, we’ll never re-shingle your barn
Or watch the leaves turn brown
Our little league team has all turned out
With their caps off, they point to the sky
And down it comes with a grace it can’t have
The closing theme has come to town
The closing theme has come to town
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Matthew Grimson Nova Scotia
Matthew Grimson was a gifted and singular songwriter who died in 2018 at the age of 50, leaving behind an enormous body of idiosyncratic work, much of which was never released. Matthew was a unique visionary—as sensitive, uncompromising, funny, and fearless in his art as he was in his life. Of his music, Matthew wrote: “Here lay psychological metal, verbose pop, queasy balladry, and odd trips.” ... more
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