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What has civilization​.​.​.​ever done for me?

by Bob Gaulke

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1.
Short Haired Hippie late to work again without a good excuse reading comic books in the lunch room he's moving back home, his girl friend can’t stand his looks he’s bought a new guitar with the rent money for June daydreams all day- can barely sweep that broom eyes a flutter with sleep; stuck in there good on the phone with jeff when it’s clearly my turn he’ll tell you his plans when his submarine submerges short haired hippie yeah short haired hippie yeah walks like a girl, but they dig him, too making out in the park like the birds do singing songs about outer space or animals at the zoo I’d kick his ass but I've got better things to do how could he be having so much fun without money he doesn’t own a car or even watch tv there ought be a law at least a bumper sticker saying ‘watch that guy get away with murder’ short haired hippie yeah short haired hippie yeah truth be told I used to be one too; that was years ago when I was in school now I've got bills to pay and another baby due; you got to grow up sometimes that’s what adults do he's called in sick again, now he’s watching cartoons he's just turned twenty-nine, to him that’s news he don’t got troubles beyond the crabs his next drug trip, or the name of his band
2.
Sharpening Knives had a job that paid eight dollars an hour in a dark room filled with shiny things they cut lights, saving power me and a hundred men that didn’t speak a blade over flint on a conveyor two in a minute pointed and clean polishing metal to a sharp edge for cutting and slicing meat sharpening knives sharpening knives shat’s what I did with my life sharpening knives sharpening knives that’s how I survived there's a rhythm louder and faster there's a rhythm that cuts your head- the sound of two hundred hands desperate heat and sparks like creation itself drunk on the sound, the pounding of metal, intoxicating slavery like a love that stays on too long something cut out the heart of me (repeat ch) I woke one morning unable to move I woke one morning unable to speak sounds had filled me with fear standing up made me weak I haven’t worked since then I rely on my wits and the generosity of women sometimes I wonder what I've done with myself other times I’m glad I survived (repeat ch)
3.
Underwear Salesman as a kid I watched what he did his style; his cynical smile good with ladies, not with money he lived between the lines trouble he got in and out like a film survived in fact, he thrived it took me a while to forgive him then I thought, “fuck, I’m that guy” smile to smile without a break sale to sale, do it again kids and a wife you know who you are on the table sits your coffee mug I need beauty in my life don’t settle for smart- If I'll never be rich at least I'll play my part train to train with the sample case following legs up the street: I’ve given up on being saved expectations fit my mornings net stockings, matte panties double-laced bodice, herring-bone necklace baby you’ll wear those things beauty in glances sustains more or less breathing in the city laughing and lying on the wind I need beauty in my life I don’t settle for smart- If I'll never be rich at least I'll play my part In this life things are often dull I go days at a time thinking of nothing at all I see you at night in dreams It's the closest we come to an understanding
4.
You're On My Money Colors can't paint you; words fall at your feet holding you tight's the only culture I need I don't care about the government or the kids in the street This bed's my nation; you're on all my money From the time you could dream a whole life to lead to the time entropy finishes you you could learn many things and never appreciate how curiosity is used wake up like billions but try to stay amused Dress up, wear make-up. Never go to work there's not enough time for the attention you deserve staring into space is your true metier all else is distraction overpriced and underpaid  Now time is like the friend whom we'll never meet again we move through passions only known to those in burning planes or auto accidents feeling life slip from various holes I'll save my breath for blowing on your wounds Everything is useless I don't need a thing crush me with your lips, I just want to feel I fill air with the pollution of written things But on you I'm silent; happiness is deaf to my needs
5.
Fandom 04:17
Fandom fred and catherine make love in my head I hear them bite when I dream pulling strings tied in wires and reverb plates, hammers pounding you might think they live in my room playing at such a volume you might think I'd shut them up, wouldn't you they're making things they keep me guessing with interesting songs to sing it's irritating when you do things everyday that don't make you happy (but) fred and catherine play night and day they don't do an office routine fred and catherine take me to places I've never seen In days when I can't see beyond lines gray and green In nights when imagination's warmth holds me as tight as a love could be in a life as short as this where nothing seems to resist a very seductive technology Fred and Catherine live ten thousand miles away in Paris, France Fred and Catherine are my best friends; we've never met my money goes to a company that pays them royalties they make what they feel: somehow it makes me happy I don't stay long depressed I don't get upset I escape to a place that doesn't exist when I'm lonely in my bed listen to Catherine and Fred one day I'm gonna live like them
6.
Island of Men you left me on the Island of men me and four guys that can't swim we feast on your memory with pieces of fruit cake we remember your skin rubbing our hands in fits it's phosphorescent in our minds it burns an obscure fire spending the night rolling cigarettes sucking butts to the lipstick taking turns with your dress putting a fold in the photograph You left me on the island of men the silence abuses your memory nothing's left of the tin I've become the fruitcake we've got ugly routines we use to pass the time reenacting painful scenes pretending to solve emotional crimes Kevin takes me out on your birthday Robbie takes off your glasses to kiss me-- There's nothing like Parris Island In the springtime I remember christmas rafael's playing jesus making love to your stereo ryan wears the leotard (repeat ch) ultimately we know why we're here but not when we'll ever be trusted around women again
7.
4-d Blues 06:07
4D Blues I don’t know where you’ve come from I don’t care where you’ve been how you got that scar or the meaning of your name I don’t know where we’re going what it takes to free the world make lots of money or save my tiny soul I just want this moment I like what I feel the music we make; the movements we trace in the air I just want these things for a short time then I’ll put my helmet on and get back to my own side I'd waited in vain for a new age to come alive and sweep me away now I keep my eyes on the ground and look for shiny things to take home I’ve heard all the arguments I know you’ve been wronged you have my sympathies we both have our jobs I’ve seen the faces I’ve heard the cries I’ve shed my tears I’ve committed my crimes and you still want this moment that can’t be explained my hands will be used as evidence to press your lips against you still want this moment that you feel is so wrong- purity and consistency are better left untouched you waited in vain for a new age to come alive and sweep you away now you've got these moments to share I won’t be greedy, but I’ll take my fill fires are extinguished gloves slip over the hands I put my suit on I turn my back you put the knife in; I understand a part of me even gets turned on -justice at last you looked beautiful then in the fading light I’m off to somewhere else now I’ll see you there sometime
8.
Practical Heart Your practical heart doesn't fall apart it folds in quarters easily reinstalled I see it working even when you can't pulling strings under your skin you think of love as some kind of drug watch it yourself, you see its logic to work out do the math with me your heart does equations your brain subtracts and adds your moods are notified to feel weird, strange, or bad digits run over you calculations run the day a message is sent through "urgent information" what happens next is between you and your neck it's up to you to risk it never growing back your heart does equations your brain subtracts and adds your moods are notified to feel weird, strange, or bad the heart's first quarter is filled with stars to navigate nights alone the heart's second quarter's got a St. Bernard with scotch under its nose the third's a vault filled with "iou's" and "I love u's" and the fourth's your dream bed; it barely sleeps two

about

Eight songs from Portland, OR. recorded 2002-2014

credits

released April 1, 2015

Bob Gaulke- Vocals
Kenny Coleman- Guitar
Jon Zaerr- Bass
Julian Brogi- Drums
Amorèe Lovell- Keys
John Luebner- Sax
recorded and edited by Sean Flora
mixed and mastered by Eber Pinheiro
photos by Mike Moe

bonus tracks mixed by Sean Flora

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about

Bob Gaulke

SInger/Songwriter/
Rootless cosmopolitan. I sometimes produce others.

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