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Another Family Dinner at the Saturn Residence Ends In Tears

by The Sad Bastard Book Club

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1.
On a road like this Everything starts to blur We have lost our way Don't know where to turn Go back home instead Return to where we came Time to find our place Time to start again
2.
Sometimes he pretends That they were just children With toy guns and candy cigarettes Tattoos were temporary Monsters were imaginary And being grounded was the biggest threat But that was absurd, patently untrue There were a thousand decisions he could not undo The child that he was had long since past The joy was gone the innocence could not last Years of bitterness had killed that boy But its ghost was something he could not avoid
3.
Welcome home, we're glad you're back Drop that suitcase and that dusty old knapsack You won't be needing those here This is where we've all hung our traveling years We've been waiting The garden's withered since you've left Marcos went to jail and your poor mother's been bereft But enough of these sad guilt filled tales Biological geography prevails! We've been waiting It's been ages since we've seen you last Before we speak of the future we must deal with the past Your brother went off to war and your whore of a sister we speak of her no more We've been waiting It's kind of silly, your desire to roam You could go a million miles but you'll never find home Your feet are now on the land which you were born So wipe off that pout and stop looking so forlorn We've been waiting (Welcome Home! Welcome Home!)
4.
We've lost our families to imaginary lines Our children grew up in what we said were the end of times With our damaged homes With our fear of the rising seas With our endless lists of bacteria, viruses, disease With our blinding mistrust and our endless distinctions of men With our parsing of the world into us and them With all of our gods and all of our sins We've buried them before they could begin (They never had a chance Their gas soaked seed was fated for the match)
5.
Shut your eyes he said This isn't real this is only a dream Shut your eyes he said This isn't real your are only sleeping The young boys father took him aside He said "if hopes are like birds then our flock just died I know the past few years have been rough I've been doing the best to keep us going but I know it's not enough" In his once strong grip he took his son's small hand "Things will soon be different and I hope you'll understand" He knelt down beside the boy and the boy saw his tears He saw a broken and frightened man trying to bury all his fears "I am truly sorry my son, it wasn't meant to be like this but this is what's become. I am truly sorry my son. Some day the worst will be over but until then pretend it's done." "This is for the best, believe me. This is for your own good."
6.
Randy was abandoned when he was young Angela was cast out of a careless home Marcus knew what it meant to survive He knew you didn't own your life, it was only on loan They knew that the choir of knives must sing for its supper They thought themselves war orphans Dumpster babies, throw aways Dickensian cut pockets and cherub faced theives The truth was less glamorous as usually is the way They were hungry, homeless, and huddled against the freeze They joked that the choir of knives must sing for its supper Randy caught pneumonia at the tail end of December Without a doctors care this family would lose a member They feared that they choir of knives must sing for its supper Coughs racked his body and desperation grew Marcus only wanted to help his friend so it became true That the choir of knives must sing for its supper
7.
This is not flight said the dove This is merely falling from high above Can't stop the seas from swelling Can't stop the waves from crashing in The decay that owns your cliff is growing On where you perched your perch my friend This is not flight said the dove This is merely falling from high above In a cage, flapping its wings Pretending to be aloft while waiting for what the ground brings Reality can be painful For those who build foundations on hope and sand Once glimpse of heaven can't deny That all sandcastles wash away in the end Gravity cares not for your plans Or for your goal to stay on the dry land You may be granted a reprieve but ultimately The fall is long, the stop is short my friend
8.
This rusted island we call home Was sinking beneath the sea foam Waves were crashing higher but we did not care The moon was in the sky that night, stars provided all the light We held each other and pretended we weren't there This rusted island we call home Was sinking beneath the sea foam Buckets floated uselessly in the swelling tide The moon was in the sky that night, stars provided all the light We had realized that we could not hide. This rusted island we call home Was sinking beneath the sea foam Fish were in the cellar as we took off our clothes The moon was in the sky that night Stars provided all the light They looked down upon us as we accepted our roles
9.
Foreclosure on our home Default our loan We're on our own
10.
Tearing up the concrete to remove the prints Of a tiny set of hands that were a tiny set of twins Cement has a memory that flesh could only wish But sometimes a sledge needs to loose its grasp On the empirical data that informs the past Past by which the present is harassed But once they're gone they stay that way And perhaps she didn't kill them, maybe she just gave them away She won't speak to the neighbors so it's a guessing game they play Where did they go? I saw them the last week Why does she look so sad? Why is she now so meek? There was a man poking around the week before He came at odd hours hammering his fist against their darkened door He could have been the father But no one knows for sure They never came out alone again after that night When they did they were holding each others hand so tight That the circulation was cut off leaving their fingers paper white Where did they go? I saw them the last week Why does she look so sad? Why is she now so meek?

about

"A celebration of defeatism and pining" (thanks Richard von Busack!) in the form of 10 singalong songs revolving around familial dissolution, biological geography, and badgers.

credits

released November 1, 2010

Recorded and mixed by the SBBC in an old hotel saloon in San Gregorio, CA. Mastered by Eric Ruud in an apartment overlooking San Francisco. Additional voices supplied by the Pauper Choir of San Gregorio, CA (full disclosure: no one in the choir lives in San Gregorio or is, in fact, a member of a choir). Thanks to everyone who had a hand in this. Your number is legion. Our love for you immense. (that sounds dirty but it's not meant to)

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The Sad Bastard Book Club San Francisco, California

Four people in a tiny San Francisco room playing overly loud doomy folk music (post-americana?) singing songs about the fibrodysplasia of the green world, animal rebellion, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, if we don't destroy everything first you might have the chance to pet a wolf before it tears your throat out in a vengeance killing. ... more

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