SONGS

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“The Thinking Man's Party Band...one of the best violinists I've ever seen."
Victor Bonderoff - The Vancouver Sun

     

In Klezskavania


This is the story of an anomaly
My little country with a black flag
No middle class no common economy
A contradiction covered in rags

 

While the wealthy embrace in the dead of night
others share the buckets of pus
Some beggars have their legs surgeoned off
So that some can afford to be lower than us

 

In Klezskavania evil is everywhere
In Klezskavania skeletons walk
In Klezskavania bad guys always win
In Klezskavania, vania, vania, mania
In Klezskavania, children eat rocks

 

Now there’s a region deep in the nothingness
with craggy mountains people can’t climb
But many try and die from the ignorance
In Klezskavania climbing’s a crime

 

CHORUS

 

And in the castles live the aristocrats
they live on taxes people can’t hold
And so they scrape it out of there tiny hides
In Klezskavania revenge is served cold

 

While the wealthy raise children for trampolines
Bouncing on elasticy twigs
Some mothers of the poor have to sell off their hair
so the rich can be bigger wigs

 

CHORUS

 

belch
Von Tantamount.
Couldn’t be gladder to hear of your ruin.
But I still have have the luck run lows,
the poverty stings,
sucking the crumbs of indignity
from the endless black floor of Hell.
I’ve clawed my way up from somewhere lower
to the middle of bottom and now
here in the Sinners Pub
were there’s always some cousin of a cousin
who thinks you owe him blood for his bandaid
We gorge on our grind show garter-garbage
and this bird-wit beau-nasty belly-up frum barrell-fever
tosses back beef n’ belch all arsey-varsey!
We all shoot alca-whozit beggars-bullets down our
tomb-hungry bone boxes
We wolf down your feces fed pony skulls and chemicals
and cover our burlap bibs in mystery vomit
The industry is the enemy.
It borrows your sister and buries her in boredom
Dragging down with her all the pickled punks and miscreants
giving me of all people the bums rush
All the way back to the belly of the whale
that gagged up this status quo motion lotion
that we cannonball pell mell
down our slit throats
(belch)
pardon