Something 4 The Weekend # 250
I apologize for foisting another one of my tunes upon you so soon after the last time, but during last night's VP debate, Joe Biden used the word "malarky", which is my fourth favorite word (yes, I have a list), and I felt compelled to share this particular song, probably recorded in 1994 on my old Tascam 4-Track. Because of the limitations of a cassette 4-track, I couldn't squeeze any bass on this song without making the entire thing sound like absolute shit. You may think it still sounds like shit without the bass, but I like the song, and in general, I'm happy with this recording, despite the lack of bass.
Malarky man plays bomb scenarios of little one-act plays that blow up in his face. Malarky man shows swingsets flat fall, and purple lips the size of throw pillows with sutured fringe that bled on Sundays. Malarky man blows darts underground, planting them in the flesh of a rose named Dave. Porcupine of horse he became, lost among the angels in the city of Los Angeles. Malarky man made to find all the pockets of wants on the leathered daughter of a drunkstore mogul. In cemeteries and dry bathtubs. Alone, and amongst pimpled heathens of discovery. Malarky man made to meditate on meant with nothing more than a blind eye for a brain, and a marmalade memory, now he cries for triggers soft and lame between missives from heaven that boom and smart 'scapes. "Bunch of goddamned malarky" said the twisted, toothless old man.Hotcha! Hank