Song List

Foggy Breakdown Mounting Album Cover

  1. The Feast of the Lord
  2. I’ve Been Looking for a Girl like You
  3. Talking Eschatology Blues
  4. Theseus’s Ship
  5. Leave Room
  6. A Song That Can’t Be Used
  7. The Optimists’ Breakfast
  8. If Misery Loves Company Then I’m Feeling Something Else
  9. Foggy Breakdown Mounting
  10. 555-1212
  11. There’s No Way That Sherlock Homes Could Have Solved All the Crimes That We’re Told He Did
  12. After the Great Forgetfulness
  13. I Might Love You Forever

The Feast of the Lord

I knew a man who smelled like an egg
He barked like a dog, and grabbed my leg
He’s invited to the feast of the Lord
I knew a man who smelled like an egg
He barked like a dog, and grabbed my leg
He’s invited to the feast of the Lord

The table’s long, and it is wide
In the hall on the other side
So fill a plate, find a chair
Meet the others who got invited there

I knew a kid who was always mean
He’d hunt you down on his Green Machine
He’s invited to the feast of the Lord
I knew a kid who was always mean
He’d hunt you down on his Green Machine
He’s invited to the feast of the Lord

The table’s long, and it is wide
In the hall on the other side
So fill a plate, find a chair
Meet the others who got invited there

I knew a woman who was always drunk
She just ate chips and collected junk
She’s invited to the feast of the Lord
I knew a woman who was always drunk
She just ate chips and collected junk
She’s invited to the feast of the Lord

The table’s long, and it is wide
In the hall on the other side
So fill a plate, find a chair
Meet the others who got invited there

December 22, 2007

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I’ve Been Looking for a Girl like You

I’ve been looking for a girl like you
A girl like you
Looking for a girl like you
But not you exactly
I’ve been looking for a girl like you
A girl like you
Looking for a girl like you
But not you

A girl with eyes like the morning skies
And a voice like summer rain
Once in a while she’ll manage a smile
And make my heart steam like a train
Soft lips and fingertips
And a beautiful name
But a girl who won’t hoof me in the balls

I’ve been looking for a girl like you
A girl like you
Looking for a girl like you
But not you exactly
I’ve been looking for a girl like you
A girl like you
Looking for a girl like you
But not you

A girl with a mission and x-ray vision
To see through what I say
Magical thighs that hypnotize
And hold me in their sway
A girl with a view on anything new
And a beautiful name
But a girl who won’t hoof me in the balls

I’ve been looking for a girl like you
A girl like you
Looking for a girl like you
But not you exactly
I’ve been looking for a girl like you
A girl like you
Looking for a girl like you
But not you

July 2, 2007

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Talking Eschatology Blues

The day was feeling kind of long
So I killed some time and wrote this song
Feeling inclined to levity
I wrote about eschatology
Eschatology
Pretty good way to kill time

Life is short, but death is worse
Unless you go in a big black hearse
Hit the highway in the middle of the day
Get stuck in traffic, never see the grave
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Bumper to bumper

I don’t know but the view’s been aired
That the streets of heaven are pretty bare
If you asked me, where are all the crowds?
I’d say people are taking the subway now
It’s faster, cheaper, takes you anywhere you want to go
Sure is crowded though

Four horsemen on their steeds drew near
They said, “Tell us, son—what’s the year?”
I said “1911,” and they looked stunned
They said, “Damn it, boys, we’ve jumped the gun”
They put their scythes back in their holsters, turned to me and said,
“See you in a hundred years”

I put a skull bone in my bed
A memento mori to remember the dead
I thought about death, thought about sheep
Counted some and fell asleep
Mary had a little lamb
Its skull was white as snow

I took a trip to the end of time
Snapped some photos, drank some wine
But I drank too much, tripped and fell
Plummeted straight into hell
It was awful
They beat me up, stole my wallet, stole my watch
Made me open a Twitter account and tweet about was going on
They had their fun
But eventually they let me go home
When I got home I thought, man, that was bad
Never want to go there again
If the road to hell is paved with good intentions
I’m never having another good intention for the rest of my life

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Theseus’s Ship

Theseus had a ship and he sailed the oceans fair
When he entered every port he took his ship in for repairs
In one port he changed the mast, in another he switched the sails
He replaced the entire hull with brand new planks and nails
And after many years had passed, his whole entire ship
Was made of parts that weren’t in place at the starting of his trip

What Theseus didn’t know as he travelled all about
Was that a captain had pursued him from the day that he set out
Every time Theseus’s ship had an old part switched for new
The captain took the worn-out part and fixed it up with glue
And after many years had passed, the captain built a ship
Using all the parts that Theseus had thrown out on his trip

Where once there was a single boat, two boats now sail around
And today they both dropped anchor by a single seaside town
You can’t tell them apart; they’re a set of floating twins
And as I look upon the boats a problem now begins

Which boat will you be sailing on?
You said that in the morning you’ll be gone
You told me you’ll be travelling on Theseus’s ship
But that seems to leave two ways you could embark upon your trip
Which boat will be taking you away?
I need to change your mind and make you stay
I love you like the evening and I need you like the dawn
And I have to know which boat it is you plan to travel on

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Leave Room

Tuesday morning, it’s a terrible scene
There’s blood on the streets where buildings had been
Passenger planes dropped out of the sky
And now many thousands of people have died
A country’s weeping, the world is in shock
We’re all feeling simply unable to talk
So we turn to hear the presidential address
Hoping for words that will speak to this mess
The president tempers his anger with calm
As he offers words from the twenty-third Psalm
But the quoting stops as he then goes on
To talk of the places that he’s planning to bomb
Well, in Romans twelve at the seventeenth verse
It says don’t repay evil with something worse
So go on and talk about avenging abroad
Just don’t speak the name of the Almighty God

Leave room for the vengeance of the Lord
Leave room for the vengeance of the Lord

There are congressmen signing on my TV screen
“God bless the American war machine”
They’re all sincere, they don’t imagine they’re wrong
They suppose that the angels are joining their song
Well, there’s a word for people whose actions profane
The religious beliefs which they openly claim
It starts with an “h” and it ends with an “e”
In the middle’s “y”, “p”, “o”, “c”, “r”, “i”, “t”

Leave room for the vengeance of the Lord
Leave room for the vengeance of the Lord
God can do little with those who think He depends on their swords
Leave room for the vengeance of the Lord

When Jesus was here he was a challenging guy
He said, “I want no more of this ‘eye for an eye’”
And when his enemies shortened his time to live
He prayed for them all and said, “Father, forgive”
So don’t be misled by the gaggle of priests
Who all run to support the war in the east
The church has its saints and the church has its cranks
And you can always find someone who will baptize your tanks

Leave room for the vengeance of the Lord
Leave room for the vengeance of the Lord
God can do little with those who think He depends on their swords
Leave room for the vengeance of the Lord

Remember Job as he sat in the dust
Crying, “Where is the God in whom I put my trust?”
He cried up to God that he did not understand
And God raised him up ‘cause He was pleased with the man
But God was not quite as pleased with Job’s trio of friends
A group of so-called religious men
They had spoken for God as they addressed Job’s hurts
Saying, “God pays the wicked their just desserts”
Woe to those three who were so very bold
To speak of how God lets His justice unfold
And woe to all others who put on airs
Saying God’s on their side and vengeance is theirs

Leave room for the vengeance of the Lord
Leave room for the vengeance of the Lord
God can do little with those who think He depends on their swords
Leave room for the vengeance of the Lord

September 22-23, 2001

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A Song That Can’t Be Used

Going to write a song that can’t be used
Going to write a song that can’t, that can’t be used
Going to leave the adman so confused
Going to write a song that can’t be used

The adman came to see me
He said I want to buy a song
I played him my song that can’t be used
And the adman ran along

Going to write a song that can’t be used
Going to write a song that can’t, that can’t be used
Going to leave the adman so confused
Going to write a song that can’t be used

The adman came to see me
He said I want to buy a song today
I played him my song that can’t be used
And the adman ran away

Going to write a song that can’t be used
Going to write a song that can’t, that can’t be used
Going to leave the adman so confused
Going to write a song that can’t be used

February 2, 2007

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The Optimists’ Breakfast

It was a morning in Saskatoon
Early in July
We took the kids to a children’s festival
To help the time go by
There was a puppet show and a small parade
Lots of things to see
My littlest son refused to look
At a man dressed like a tree

When we bought our entrance tickets
They told us breakfast was free
It was included in the ticket price
It was complimentary
So we looked around until we found the place
Where the sausages were free
Pancakes and sausages
For my wife and kids and me

We all took our place
In the breakfast line
I looked over beside the breakfast grill
And I saw a giant sign
It said breakfast was provided
By the Optimists Club
The Optimists were the ones to thank
For providing all the grub

The line moved pretty quickly
There wasn’t long to wait
An optimist in an apron
Came and handed us our plates
The plates were full of pancakes
But my face began to fall
Pancakes were all there was
No sausages at all

I looked up at the optimist
He was smiling back at me
I asked about the sausages
I’d heard we’d get for free
He looked apologetic
As he told me they were gone
They’d run out about an hour ago
It was pancakes from now on

We all took our plates of pancakes
And we sat under the sun
I ate in silence
And got up when I was done
There were pancakes for every girl and boy
But no sausages for us
Because the optimists
Had thought they’d have enough
No sausages because the optimists
Had thought they’d have enough

June 2009

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If Misery Loves Company Then I’m Feeling Something Else

I was down on my luck
I was hurting, I was glum
I was waiting for some deus ex cantina to come
But you came instead
And you opened your mouth
And that’s when my day really headed south

I must look pretty sad in the bar here by myself
But if misery loves company then I’m feeling something else
As you soon as you move on I can get back to my problems
Get back to not trying to solve them

The first mistake was mine
I told you what was wrong
That was just about an hour ago, and you’re still going strong
Have I tried this, tried that?
Well, the answer’s no and no
But have you considered it might be getting time for you to go?

I must look pretty sad in the bar here by myself
But if misery loves company then I’m feeling something else
As you soon as you move on I can get back to my problems
Get back to not trying to solve them

You’ve got lots of ideas
And you really seem to care
So why don’t you go and help that fellow over there?
Give him some advice
If he likes it give him more
And while you’re talking I’ll slip on out the door

I must look pretty sad in the bar here by myself
But if misery loves company then I’m feeling something else
As you soon as you move on I can get back to my problems
Get back to not trying to solve them

December 22, 2008

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Foggy Breakdown Mounting

Alarm clock goes, it’s 6 o’clock, he’s already wide awake
He’s thinking about his life so far and new directions he could take
He feels pulled by different options, but which is best he couldn’t say
He’s like Buridan’s donkey surrounded by stacks of hay
So he keeps on with his present doings and he prays they’re for the best
But there’s a growing knot of doubting that’s been tightening in his chest

And he’s having an epistemological breakdown
A foggy breakdown mounting in his head
He’s worried he should be feeling more worried than he has felt
About the direction of the life that he has led

What do you do with a drunken sailor when he heads for another bar?
Do you gently reprimand him and suggest that he’s gone too far?
Do you stick him into the scuppers with a hosepipe on his head?
Or just let the fellow stagger on, saying, “The fellow has made his bed”?
If he’s heading in a wrong direction will he be turned by a knowing hand?
Or just left to weave his errant path into the heat of the desert sand?

And he’s having an epistemological breakdown
A foggy breakdown mounting in his brain
He doesn’t know if there’s anything about his life that he could say that he really knows
And the joints of all his bones can feel the strain

It’s hard to move with confidence on this side of the veil
He shrinks from new adventures ‘cause there’s a risk that they could fail
But he feels more trepidation about sticking where he is now
He needs to figure out what his course should be, but he’s got no idea how
What on earth should he be doing?  What’s his life about?
Maybe one day he’ll have an answer, but he’s starting to have his doubts

And he’s having an epistemological breakdown
A foggy breakdown mounting in his mind
He’s concerned that his concerns are somehow not quite what they should be
That there are other ways he should be occupying his time

And I don’t want to end up saying you were a hard man
Don’t want to end up saying you were a hard man
Don’t want to end up saying you were a hard man
Don’t want to end up saying you were a hard man

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555-1212

I was feeling alone so I went to a bar
I just walked ‘cause I don’t have car
I went around with my beer trying to connect
Not having much luck but not giving up yet
And then I saw her there, went up and said hi
Do you come here much?  She said, once in a while
We talked for a bit, then she had to go
I dared to ask for her number at home

She said 555-1212
Give me a call and we’ll figure out something to do
And I knew that my days of being lonely were gone

I was glad when school came to an end
I failed grade 10 and didn’t have any friends
When my parents died I got a job at Sears
Selling luggage to pay for my beers
Selling luggage, 9 to 5
Selling luggage, barely alive
Holding out for a future day
When I’d buy a suitcase and fly away

She said 555-1212
Give me a call and we’ll figure out something to do
And I knew that my days of being lonely were gone

June 1, 2007

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There’s No Way That Sherlock Holmes Could Have Solved All the Crimes That We’re Told He Did

A while ago I felt pretty low
My life jumped the track
I couldn’t get my head out of bed
Everything looked black
Beside myself, on the bedside shelf
There were books of stories
So I began to read
I began to read

There’s no way that Sherlock Holmes
Could have solved all the crimes that we’re told he did
Puts a fly in the narrative ointment
221 Baker Street
More like Faker Street
Arthur Conan Doyle—what a disappointment

There were too many tales with talking animals
I didn’t like them at all
And the Wizard of Oz was so deeply flawed
I threw it against the wall
The Lord of the Rings had me struggling
‘Cause it was filled with wizards
And it was full of elves
Just full of elves

There’s no way that Sherlock Holmes
Could have solved all the crimes that we’re told he did
Puts a fly in the narrative ointment
221 Baker Street
More like Faker Street
Arthur Conan Doyle—what a disappointment

The stories of quests were what I liked the best
King Arthur and all the knights
What a beautiful vision, to have a mission
And a story for your life
But when I looked outside I nearly cried
‘Cause all the giants
Looked like windmills
They looked like windmills

There’s no way that Sherlock Holmes
Could have solved all the crimes that we’re told he did
Puts a fly in the narrative ointment
221 Baker Street
More like Faker Street
Arthur Conan Doyle—what a disappointment

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After the Great Forgetfulness

The forgetfulness began one day
One by one, things slipped away
The world he knew slowly disappeared
The hope he had was replaced by fear
The world was different, everything had changed
The things he loved had become strange
He was in his body feeling like a guest
After the Great Forgetfulness
After the Great Forgetfulness

There was a time when things made sense
Events were charged with significance
He was thronged by possibilities
But they’re gone and now he’s ill at ease
It was once a contest, but now he’s beat
His highway’s narrowed to a one-way street
Will he ever get back to what he loved best?
After the Great Forgetfulness
After the Great Forgetfulness

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I Might Love You Forever

One day everything that matters will have vanished
No more beauty, no more love
We won’t even be a memory
Unless there is a God above
In a million years there might be nothing left of me
A bit of calcium under the sod
Or I might be a flame dancing in heaven’s fire
I might be a child of God

My story might be slowly drawing to a close
Or it might go on and on and on, amen
I might love you forever
In a few more years, it might all come to an end

The world is full of hurt, full of hardship
Children orphaned before they crawl
One day there might be a redemption
Or there might be none at all
Everywhere you look you see injustice
Why do some folks do what’s right while others don’t?
One day we’ll all know the answer
Or else we won’t

My story might be slowly drawing to a close
Or it might go on and on and on, amen
I might love you forever
In a few more years, it might all come to an end

January 11, 2010

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