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Fisticuffs and Other Stuff

by Knuckleberry Finn

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1.
Saw her with the devil A whispered word’s all it takes A single wink can strike a spark That lights the pyre or the stake I’ve always known there’s something wrong with her And now she can’t deny it A sinner’s life That’s why she never sleeps at night Not like the pure of heart like you and I Saw her with the devil Just look at the soot on her dress An innocent can walk through fire Her scorched palms all but confessed Now all of us are lily-white, as pure as snow So throw all the stones you like A sinner’s life That’s why she never sleeps at night Not like the pure of heart like you and I I’ve always known there’s something wrong with her And now she can’t deny it A sinner’s life That’s why they never sleep at night Not like the pure of heart like you and I
2.
Look on ye hungry and rejoice: A rubber smorgasbord w/ flat tire reduction sauce. Look on ye hungry and rejoice: Roast grease monkey stuffed with bell peppers. Look on ye hungry and rejoice: Multiplied multitude of loaves and fishes. Look on ye hungry and rejoice: Krishna Khrist, our lord and savior. Chomping chewing chewing chewing Chomping chewing chewing chomping Chomping chomping chomping chewing Gumming, swallow, wallow! Gumming, chewing, chewing, chewing Gumming, chewing, chewing, gumming Gumming, gumming, gumming, chewing, Chewing, swallow, yum Look on ye weary and rejoice: Mattresses filled with mashed potaters. Look on ye weary and rejoice: Platinum cots and cashmere sleeping bags. Look on ye weary and rejoice: A cuddle puddle of hapless ocelots. Look on ye weary and rejoice: A Temper-Pedic Swedish bosom. Resting, sleeping, sleeping, sleeping, Resting, sleeping, sleeping, resting, Resting, resting, resting, sleeping, Napping, snoring, whoah! Napping, sleeping, sleeping, sleeping, Napping , sleeping, sleeping, napping, Napping, napping, napping, sleeping. Sleeping, snoring, napkin Look on ye joyful and despair: The fruits of labor rotting away. Look on ye joyful and despair: A rising tide of disposable laundry detergent. Look on ye joyful and despair: More paternity suits than you can shake a gavel at. Look on ye joyful and despair: The people who walk in darkness are serviced by Pepco.
3.
Counting the streetlamps, surrogate stars Shatter of glass, supernova right above my head Rivers of white and red, flowing down the mountainside Glowing with the flashing lights of mercury and lead I can’t shake it The afterimage in my eyes Brighter than the bruised and sullen sky I can’t shake it Paint over the clouds with tar In a world made of light, there’s no such thing as stars Constellations at the tops of skyscrapers The advertisements, the new Orion, our new heroes Prometheus and Edison brought down the light Beat back the darkness, a neon Bethlehem I can’t shake it The afterimage in my eyes Brighter than the bruised and sullen sky I can’t shake it Paint over the clouds with tar In a world made of light, there’s no such thing as stars The sun never sets on the floodlighted Earth Dim as fireflies against the light of man Eternal light, eternal life All the world’s an Arctic day The Northern lights will never go away I can’t shake it The afterimage in my eyes Brighter than the bruised and sullen sky I can’t shake it Paint over the clouds with tar In a world made of light, there’s no such thing as stars
4.
Superego 03:39
Man of steel, heart of stone Gone and left us all alone Hung up his halo without a doubt He’s never been the same Since he found that Lois Lane Now she’s all he thinks about He would tear this city down Just to wrap his arms around her And catch her when she falls There’s no one left to save us When the beasts come roaring in No one left at all Everyone around you thinks you don’t deserve to What’s wrong is right, what’s black is white In your superego Dark man with face unknown Wants revenge on all below him He growls and blusters down the alleyways No guardian Heaven-sent Like Achilles in his tent He broods within his cave for days No thought of charity All pride and vanity He lives for vengeance without noise There’s no one left to save us When he’s got his blinders on We’re doomed by all his pretty toys Everyone around you thinks you don’t deserve to What’s wrong is right, what’s black is white In your superego On that silver screen All those popcorn dreams Of being Atlas hoisting a world in flight The cameras pan with you No matter what you do No matter how much you destroy The salt taste of a punch in the face That fantasy of might makes right! Everyone around you thinks you don’t deserve to What’s wrong is right, what’s black is white In your superego I hate your superego
5.
Fun paranoia fact #1: Every white van has a camera inside. Fun paranoia fact #2: The moon landing was faked on a set of Swiss cheese. Fun paranoia fact #3: Your yogurt bacteria's with the CIA. Fun paranoia fact #4: I'm all out of fun paranoia facts. It’s a rainy, stormy, cloudy dreary ETC kinda day, and I’m feeling a bit lonely so I head over to my nearest phone and dial zero “Hello operator, so we meet again. Can you get me the voices in my head. I’m sorry, they aren’t available right now.” “I have a confession to make,” she says. “I’m really the ghost of communication’s past.” “Why do you haunt this earth a lowly spectre? How did you meet your demise?” Heard it through the wiretapped grapevine Old paranoia’s on the loose again “Well, they’ve invented this thing called a search engine, this thing called a dialpad, so I’m kind of out of a job.” “Tough break.” “You can say that again.” “Tough break”. “Alas, I have gone the way of the telegraph.” “Everything is in morose code, but none takes the time to decode or to care.” “There are so many people I want to talk to, I want you to connect me with them, I want you to help me connect with them, you can do that, that’s your job right? RIGHT? Heard it through the wiretapped grapevine Old paranoia’s on the loose again “Look, I don’t want things to get freaky or steamy. I know this isn’t the red-light district, you're a dignified and moral woman and what would ol’ Alex Bell think? “You’re not a payphone, I know you’re non-profit yadablahblahblah, but such you’ve been such a good sport, I’ll tip ya 75 cents, ‘cause that’s my ten cents worth. Consider it a stipend. Consider it a pension.” “Oh thank you sir, thank you thank you sir! Ever so much thank you thank you sir. I now have enough money to pay the discount Charon to paddle me off to the afterlife. For your philanthropic troubles, I shall now reveal to you all the secrets of the universe.” Heard it through the wiretapped grapevine Old paranoia’s on the loose again And this omniscient voice, this beautiful omniscient voice, this tell-all, hear-all, say-all confirms all my innermost fears. That 9/11, Hurricane Sandy, the Great Boston Molasses Tragedy, The Triangle Shirtwaist Fires WERE ALL INSIDE JOBS Johnny Appleseed only planted crab apples, Paul Bunyan was the eighth dwarf John Henry pioneered the jackhammer. Soothing elevator music to these sore ears. Heard it through the wiretapped grapevine Old paranoia’s on the loose again
6.
One more spoon of corn syrup now, whoa We’re only happy when we’re in control Our bodies made of glass and porcelain Our smiles too wide for our mouths to hold It’s all beyond my ability Cause I was born in captivity So turn on the lights, and turn up the heat I need my comforts to feel complete We can never face the dark except by firelight Cowering in the night’s no kind of life We’re not homing birds that follow the stars We have to build our own just to know where we are It’s all beyond my ability Cause I was born in captivity So turn out the lights, and turn out the heat That’s all it takes for my mind to retreat And I’m shivering and blind, leave me like a lost child, oh no, I would have died in the wild
7.
I’m staring at a can of sweetened condensed milk thinking “where were you when I needed you most?” Jackson Browne wrote a song about this. But I’m quite not sure how it goes. Nobody told me it’d be easy becoming a rock and roll star. But I wouldn’t trade my rock and roll dream for all the rice pilaf in the world. Nobody told me it’d be easy becoming a rock and roll star. Nobody tells me a lot of things. Someone told me that gargled prune juice is makeshift mouthwash. Just kidding, they actually didn’t. That never happened. Sometimes methinks myself a random word generator. For the longest time, I put wheat germ in my yogurt. Everybody tells me to follow my dream. They say: “Pack your pantaloons and shoot for the stars.” Jackson Pollock wrote a song about this. But I’m not quite sure how it goes.
8.
Inchward bound we centimeter on, puttering like a paraplegic’s paddleboat plummeting like a wind-surfing paperweight. Centimeter bound we inchward on, we inchworms cry “misnomer”, we crawl by the centimeter towards eminent nuclear annihilation: Towards Prague, towards Kiev. Towards Leningrad, towards Stalingrad. Radiating granulation, granulating radiation. Inchward bound, we centimeter on. Centimeter bound, we inchward on. Lefty commie pinko Jimmy Carter crusaders for measurement standardization. Until the miles behind us become kilometers, the francs, the pounds, the rubles the knuts, the sickles, the galleons all become euros, all become euros Until the cows come home and their gallons of milk become liters of sour cream.
9.
Atlantis 03:35
When the oceans come Climbing on dry land We'll crumble like a sand castle Under their slow advance At our beachside parties The leisure we deserve Sipping wine from plastic cups That will one day be as precious as myrrh Can you still feel the chill of the glaciers In the steady force of the breakers Some of us looking over our shoulders at the silent black mass of the ocean Watching, nervous, waiting for the sound of crashing waves Look out from our balconies over the beach At the grasping tide almost within reach At the sand slowly sinking under the foam The moon lost its grip on the waves And they're spilling over the shore They are coming, slowly, to swallow us whole On sand-castle dry land Nothing left but footprints in the sand
10.

about

An incredible amount of kudos are owed to Ananth Batni, who put up with so much in the process of recording this. He does amazing work, go throw money at him/record in his studio: www.facebook.com/prettygoodstudios

Hi, we’re Knuckleberry Finn:

Abram Shaw – drums, didgeridoo, cello, backing vocals
Ben Shaw – vocals, guitars, keyboard, snaps
Devin Taylor – bass, banjo, backing vocals, snaps

Thanks also to all of our Jam Guestz ™:
Andrew Wink – lead guitar on tracks 1 and 7
Charles Scheider – e-bow on tracks 3, 8, and 9
Declan Enright – additional vocals on tracks 2 and 8, ending guitar solo on track 8
Ananth Batni – veena on track 8

And, of course, where would we be without:
Ananth, Charles, and Declan putting up with us in the studio every day; Max Poole, Ashe, and everyone affiliated with the Rock Action shows, without whom none of this would be possible; our parents, without whom none of this would be possible; Nat Wolfe; Ron Akins; Aaron Goldstein and Poprocks and Coke; Katie and Carl Peachey; and Asher Meerovich and everyone down at WMUC.

The Room and all its dialogue is owned by Tommy Wiseau.

credits

released October 18, 2014

Recorded, mixed, and mastered by Ananth Batni.

Lyrics on tracks 1, 3, 4, 6, and 9 - Ben Shaw
Lyrics on tracks 2, 5, 7, and 8 - Devin Taylor

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Knuckleberry Finn Maryland

Knuckleberry Finn (formerly and unfortunately known as The Catdoors) are an alternative power trio from the Washington DC Metropolitan Area. The band consists of Ben Shaw, Abram Shaw, and Devin Taylor.

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