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| Brian Wilson |
| Words & Music by Steven Page |
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| Drove downtown in the rain nine-thirty on a Tuesday night, |
| just to check out the late-night record shop. |
| Call it impulsive, call it compulsive, call it insane, |
| but when I'm surrounded I just can't stop. |
|
| It's a matter of instinct, it's a matter of conditioning, |
| it's a matter of fact. |
| You can call me Pavlov's dog. |
| Ring a bell and I'll salivate. How'd you like that? |
| Dr. Lendy tell me you're not just a pedagogue, |
| cause right now I'm |
|
| Lying in bed just like Brian Wilson did |
| Well I'm lying in bed just like Brian Wilson did. |
|
| So I'm lying here, just starting at the ceiling tiles. |
| and I'm thinking about what to think about. |
| Just listening and relistening to Smiley Smile, |
| and I'm wondering if this is some kind of create drought |
| because I am |
|
| Lying in bed just like Brian Wilson did |
| Well I'm lying in bed just like Brian Wilson did. |
|
| And if you want to find me I'll be out in the sandbox, |
| wondering where the hell all the love has gone. |
| Playing my guitar and building castles in the sun, |
| and singing "Fun, Fun, Fun." |
|
| Lying in bed just like Brian Wilson did |
| Well I'm lying in bed just like Brian Wilson did. |
|
| I had a dream that I was three hundred pounds |
| and though I was very heavy, |
| I floated 'til I couldn't see the ground |
| I floated 'til I couldn't see the ground |
| Somebody help me, I couldn't see the ground |
| Somebody help me, I couldn't see the ground |
| Somebody help me because I'm |
|
| Lying in bed just like Brian Wilson did |
| Well I'm lying in bed just like Brian Wilson did. |
|
| Drove downtown in the rain nine-thirty on a Tuesday night. |
| Just to check out the late-night record shop. |
| Call it impulsive, call it compulsive, call it insane; |
| but when I'm surrounded I just can't stop. |
|
| Straw Hat and Old Dirty Hank |
| Words & Music by Steven Page & Ed Robertson |
|
| I tend the wheat field that makes your bread. |
| I bind the sweet veal, pluck the hens that make your bed. |
| Mother Nature & Mother Earth |
| Are two of three women who dictate what I'm worth |
|
| I'm the farmer. |
| I work in the fields all day. |
| Don't mean to alarm her, |
| But I know it was meant to be this way. |
|
| You cried a tear, I wiped it dry |
| I put you up upon a pedestal so high |
| if you should waiver, if you should sway |
| I'd catch you, spread my tiny wings and fly away. |
| You signed your picture with an O and X |
| I bet you don't write "love" each time you sign your cheques. |
|
| All of this corn I grow I grow it all for you |
| I took a hatchet to the radio I did it all for you |
| You could have written back, |
| You could have said "Thank you" |
| I guess you've got better things, |
| better things to do. |
|
| You say you love me, is that the truth? |
| Although they've heard the songs, my friends want living proof. |
| I know your address, I ring the bell |
| I bring you flowers and a .22 with shells. |
|
| I'm the farmer |
| I work in the fields all day |
| Never wanted to harm her |
| But I know it was meant to be this way. |
|
| Break Your Heart |
| Words & Music by Steven Page |
|
| The bravest thing I've ever done |
| Was to run away and hide |
| But not this time, not this time |
| And the weakest thing I've ever done |
| Was to stay right by your side |
| Just like this time, and every time |
| I couldn't tell you I was happy when you were gone |
| So I lied and said that I missed you when we were apart. |
| I couldn't tell you, so I had to lead you on |
| But I didn't mean to break your heart. |
|
| And if I always seem distracted |
| Like my minds somewhere else, |
| That's because it's true, yes it's true |
| it's this stupid pride that makes me feel |
| Like I have to follow through |
| Even half-assedly, loving you |
| Why must I always speak in terms of cowardice? |
| When I guess I should have just come out and told you right from the start |
| Why must I always tell you all I want is this? |
| I guess 'cause I didn't want to break your heart |
|
| And you said; |
| "What'd you think that I was gonna do, |
| Curl up and die just because of you? |
| I'm not that weak, you know |
| What'd you think that I was gonna do, |
| Try to make you love me as much as I love you? |
| how could you be so low? |
| You arrogant man, |
| What do you think that I am? |
| My heart will be fine |
| Just stop wasting my time" |
|
| And now I know that you will be okay, and that I |
| got what I want and that's rid of you |
| Good bye |
| And it's not cause I'll be missing you |
| That makes me fall apart |
| it's just that I didn't mean to break |
| No I didn't mean to break |
| No I didn't mean to break |
| Your heart |
|
| When I Fall |
| Words by Steven Page & Ed Robertson Music by Ed Robertson |
|
| I look straight in the window, try not to look below |
| Pretend I'm not up here, try counting sheep |
| But the sheep seem to shower off this office tower |
| Nine-point-eight straight down I can't stop my knees. |
|
| I wish I could fly |
| From this building, from this wall |
| And if I should try, |
| would you catch me if I fall? |
|
| My hands clench the squeegee, my secular rosary |
| Hang on to your wallet, hang on to your rings |
| Can't look below me, or something might throw me |
| Curse at the windstorms that October brings. |
|
| I look in the boardroom; a modern pharaoh's tomb |
| I'd gladly swap places, if they care to dive |
| They're lined up at the window, peer down into limbo |
| They're frightened of jumping, in case they survive. |
|
| I wish I could step from this scaffold |
| onto soft green pastures, shopping malls, or bed |
| With my family and my pastor and my grandfather who's Dead |
|
| Look straight in the mirror, watch it come clearer |
| I look like a painter, behind all the grease |
| But paintings creating, and I'm just erasing |
| A crystal-clear canvas is my masterpiece |
|
|
| What A Good Boy |
| Words by Steven Page Music by Steven Page & Ed Robertson |
|
| When I was born, they looked at me and said, |
| "What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy." |
| And when you were born, they looked at you and said, |
| "What a good girl, what a what a smart girl, what a pretty girl." |
|
| We've got these chains that hang around our necks |
| people want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath. |
| Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same, |
| when temptation calls, we just look away. |
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| This name is the hairshirt I wear |
| and this hairshirt is woven from your brown hair. |
| This song is the cross that I bear, |
| bear it with me, bear with me, bear with me, be with me tonight, |
| I know that it isn't right, but be with me tonight. |
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| I go to school, I write exams, |
| if I pass, if I fail, if I drop out, |
| does anyone give a damn? |
| And if they do, they'll soon forget 'cause it won't take much for me |
| to show my life ain't over yet. |
| I wake up scared, I wake up strange. |
| I wake up wondering if anything in my life is ever going to change. |
| I wake up scared, I wake up strange |
| and everything around me stays the same. |
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| I couldn't tell you that I was wrong, |
| chickened out, grabbed a pen and paper, sat down and I wrote this song. |
| I couldn't tell you that you were right, |
| so instead I looked in the mirror, |
| watched TV, laid away all night. |
|
| We've got these chains, hang 'round our necks, |
| people want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath. |
| Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same when temptation calls ... |
|
| When I was born, they looked at me and said; |
| "What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy." |
| And when you were born, they looked at you and said; |
| "What a good girl, what a smart girl, what a pretty girl, hey" |
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| The Old Apartment |
| Words & Music by Steven Page & Ed Robertson |
|
| Broke into the old apartment |
| This is where we used to live |
| Broken glass, broke and hungry |
| broken hearts and broken bones |
| This is where we used to live |
|
| Why did you paint the walls? |
| Why did you clean the floor? |
| Why did you plaster over the hole I punched in the door? |
| This is where we used to live |
|
| Why did you keep the mousetrap? |
| Why did you keep the dishrack? |
| these things used to be mine |
| I guess they still are, I want them back |
|
| Broke into the old apartment |
| Forty-two stairs from the street |
| Crooked landing, crooked landlord |
| Narrow laneway filled with crooks. |
| This is where we used to live. |
|
| Why did they pave the lawn? |
| why did they change the locks? |
| Why did I have to break it, I only came here to talk |
| This is where we used to live |
|
| How is the neighbor downstairs? |
| How is her temper this year? |
| I turned up your TV and stomped on the floor just for fun |
| I know we don't live here anymore |
| We bought an old house on the Danforth |
| She loves me and her body keeps me warm |
| I'm happy here |
| But this is where we used to live |
|
| Broke into the old apartment |
| Tore the phone out of the wall |
| Only memories, fading memories |
| Blending into dull tableaux |
|
| I want them back |
|
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| Life, in A Nutshell |
| Words & Music by Steven Page & Ed Robertson |
|
| When she was three |
| Her barbies always did it on the first date |
| Now she's with me, |
| There's never any need for them to demonstrate |
| She's like a baby, I'm like a cat; |
| When we are happy, we both get fat and still |
| it's never enough, it's never enough, |
| it's never enough |
|
| But I don't tend to worry about the things that other people say, |
| And I'm learning that I wouldn't want it any other way |
| Call me crazy, but it really doesn't matter |
| All that matters to me is she |
|
| Her life, in a nutshell |
| No way would she want it to change me |
| it's not that easy 'cause |
| My time is often decided for me |
| For me |
|
