by Boog

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released October 13, 2011

All songs written and performed by Boog
Recorded, mixed, mastered by Glenn Barratt at MorningStar Studio, Ambler, PA
Cover photo by Kevin High
Album artwork design by Michele Kienle



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Boog Pennsylvania

One-man Explosion.


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Track Name: SNAV
Darker fish cleave creamy seas,
and all I’m left with is a breeze
It doesn’t even reach my knees
There’s too much in this world for free

They’re always inventing newer, tighter, cleaner skin,
but all I’ve got is the one I’m in:
rained on, stained, and paper-thin
And who knows where I could have been

And the most beautiful couple is dancing the tin-can tango
Oh signore, ponimi su quel di notte traghetto a napoli

Because there’s no place I’d rather be,
than in that salty puddle called a sea,
with a crazy little wife—
a pretty little knife—
that would be something like a life for me

These sidewalk queens and khaki schemes
fill the lining of a vagrant’s dream
Stitch-by-stitch, rip out the seams
and blow it up with bay barge steam

And eventually we will be at home in that den of thieves
e le spiagge nere di sorrento non sono lontane da napoli

So put your faith in happenstance
and join me for this dance

We will be a trinity of two
my bones belong to you
my bones belong to you
mie ossa appartengono a tu

My crazy little wife,
you cut me like a knife,
gave me a glimpse of my
something-like-a-life to be
Track Name: Straight From The Grave
The recruiters want to know why you don’t do what they do
They want to know where you’re going and how you’ve been
They cling to me so loosely, I just want to scrape them off like dead skin

Rebel Jenny says, ‘Leave me alone for a little while, John.
Times are hard, I’m all charged up–hey, man, I’ve got a battle to win!’
But she’s told, ‘This battle is unwinnable, this goal is unattainable,
and the fight ain’t worth half what you put in.

‘So, you’ve got a pole through your nose, and a poem in your hand.
Well, tell me, who’s that going to save?’

She’s coming to you straight from the grave
with a lighter for your cigarettes
and a very dangerous silhouette.
Don’t forget, someone’s got to play it the way that it is

All those goons who hang around the bell tower will reject
anyone who doesn’t listen to their favorite songs
They’ll harass and harangue you and let you dangle, once they’ve hanged you
by the string with which they so easily led you

So, along comes this kid, scribbling, rolled on by the thunder
Everyone asks his neighbor, ‘Hey, who’s this sick kid?’
But before he can speak, he eats his own words, they don’t agree,
and his guts spill out his mouth like liquid

‘Oh, good show! Yeh, what form!
And how very, absolutely brave!’

He’s coming to you straight from the grave
with words you ain’t ever seen
He’ll make every day feel like Halloween
It’s obscene, but someone’s got to play it the way that it is

And all the vampires are asking, ‘What happened to young Kirk Douglas?’
though they think that he’s much sexier now he’s well hid
I’ll tell you what: they threw him in a bunker, turned up the heat,
and told him to come out knowing more than he did

Mortuary Marylin speaks in squeak-toy noises
The red on her cheeks hides the trails of her tears
And I feel bad for the man who made her sad, because
she’s got enough gasoline to keep a fire lit for years

She’s lovely, she’s gone
Why even bother to behave?

She’s coming to you, straight from the grave,
with a tattered, ill-fitting dress,
She is under, above, and beyond duress
She’s a mess, but someone’s got to play it the way that it is

No one expected much out of Peter–
he kept his nose clean, his hair trimmed–
they thought he’d live out life like the moss
Well, imagine Paul’s surprise when his eyes found themselves on the wrong end of Peter’s right cross

Joseph’s long gone, Robert’s last song’s nearly done
It’s all so criminal, but I ain’t heard a single complaint

So feel no shame now–it ain’t wrong
Just touch the ceiling, baby, and sing along:

‘Hallowed be the names of the saints!
Praise the very names of these saints!’

They’re coming to you straight from the grave
Someone’s got to say it
Someone’s got to play it the way that it is
Track Name: (Whatever You Do) Don't Tell Her I Was Here
The time I’d spent in Chelsea was done,
but, looking back, it seems it ended sooner than it had begun
And though the memories still tear at me,
they’ve brought me to these steps, I fear
Whatever you do, don’t tell her I was here

The first time she laughed in my ear, I was consumed
But when it came to me, it seemed she only ever was amused
Can you tell her how my heart skipped beats whenever she was near?
Just, whatever you do, don’t tell her I was here

Don’t tell her I was here

Then she’d go out alone, and I’d be left to sate my own thirst,
‘til I couldn’t keep down what I kicked back, and that wasn’t the worst
Tell her I’m sorry for that Saturday: it was the whiskey and the beer—
But, whatever you do, don’t tell her I was here

Don’t tell her I was here

Then she poured me just like so much water, straight down the drain
But I never loved her more than I did the last time she walked me to the train
And down my arm, to my finger ran one of her crocodile tears
Oh, god, whatever you do, don’t tell her I was here

Don’t tell her I was here
Whatever you do, don’t tell her I was here
Track Name: Kensington Darling
Of plagues, dark birds, and dirges,
I do believe I’ve had my fill
It only took one of my little purges
to tip myself over and spill
Big wheels are spinning,
like big wheels will
It sure is something to finally see the valley
from the top of the hill

Her hair hung,
like a willow at the tips
My Kensington darling planted a full rum kiss on my lips

From some big book, I’ve been folding,
tearing, and in great piles, burning pages
Much too dearly I’ve been holding
what i’ve learned from seeking sages
Big wheels are spinning,
they’ve been spinning through the ages
It sure is something to see doves loosed from their cages

I am felled by her footfall
Look—see how she trips
My kensington darling planted a full rum kiss on my lips

Some will take the short path,
the sure path,
and some won’t even walk at all

So give me the long way
and a blanket of ice,
because under such a sun,
ice, babe, will thaw

There is a rhythm in her breath
From her mouth a melody drips
I’ve collected her eyes in great cups,
and now I sit, taking long, cool sips
Track Name: Mandi
you look dandy,
with your Mountain Dew and cigarettes
and your car that’s zooming like a jet to the bank

you look dandy,
but I feel like dying on the floor
It’s only lonely songs in record stores, anymore

And I know the stickergun don’t make a good microphone,
but you could pull it off, just the same
And I don’t know how many times I’ve had to tell the new guy
that there’s an ‘i,’ not a ‘y’ in your name

you look dandy,
with your buttons and your bitterness
You made pulling off a double shift seem all right

you look dandy
in this blue-and-orange puppetshow
And, if one thing’s certain, then I know I miss you

I know I’m like your brother, but if you were ten years younger,
things wouldn’t be quite the same
And, no matter how hard I try, I can’t convince the new guy
that there is an ‘i,’ not a ‘y’ in your name
Track Name: Sexless Devil
Sexless devil, you’re choking on Rimbaud’s ghost
Or maybe it’s that black snake tightening around your neck
and saying, ‘Who’s the one you love the most?’

Sexless devil, you’re making such a silly fuss,
because your dead lover’s employed by your wicked silk joy,
and you can love them both at once, if you must

Sexless devil, I’ve got to know what she fed you
to catch your fancy.
I’m starving
Look—my gums are receding
and my thumbs are bleeding
and my feet are getting antsy

for your uniform and your pelvic storm
and that nest on your head and your breasts like the dead
and the oncoming storm
the scourge, the swarm, the oncoming storm

And this is me feeling it

Sexless devil, I am heaving, I’m breathing
for words that you ain’t even spoke. No joke,
I want you to tell me lies and gouge out my eyes
and make damn sure that my spine is broken,

because I want to squirm like a Jersey worm
I want to rot with the saints and throw my words like paints
at the oncoming storm
the scourge, the swarm—I’m absorbed in the storm

And this is me feeling it
This is me eating it
This is me bleeding it
This is me feeling it

Sexless devil,
your melody’s a malady that’s making me weak
Track Name: Little Music Box
Late to bed, early to rise
I got snakes in my hair,
but I'm none the wiser
I let the nightmares get the best of me
While the buzzards can have the rest of me

Something I said
widened your eyes
Is it rude to stare?
I'm still undecided
Well, go on, look now, feast your eyes on me
Because lord knows you already set your spies on me

You said I was your flower
under your nose
Well, I'm so, so sad to say
that I've found cleaner roses
On a train, I can cover so much ground
Without ever touching the ground

I go rolling and rolling, rolling and rolling around

And if we keep on moving,
we won't ever have to worry about sleep
But, then, if we just rest our heads,
we won't ever have to move again
Track Name: Confession
You got mascara on my shirt,
as we were rolling in the dirt,
or you rolled me—
because I wasn’t rough enough, you see

And I hate to be the one to complain,
but that shit left a big dark stain
that won’t come out
Black on blue is what it’s all about

And if I ever wear that shirt again,
I will likely stumble into oblivion,
and you’d like that
I’d be sure to wear that silly hat
your mom bought me
Why should I care, if it was free?

And I know you’re not well fed
And I can’t say you’re well bred
And those were some awful things you said

So there is no excuse for the abuse,
your tiny hands just like a noose
across my back
It was all right until I heard the snap

You got pet-names and parades
and one-way escapades
across the line
What did I get for my time?

I got tired thighs and empty sighs
and balling out my eyes,
Oh, what a steal!
What was your end of the deal?
Oh, that’s right.
It was waiting for a call at night

And I know you’re not well fed
And I can’t say you’re well bred
And those were some awful things you said

So, I must say that I’m hurt about the dirt
I just want this stain out of my shirt,
once and for all
Christ, it’s been there since the fall

Ain’t that long enough for me to be in
run-down, down-and-out misery?
Because that’s what it does
Don’t ask me why—it’s just because

you treated me like a child
I put up with it for a while,
but couldn’t take it anymore
Five months later, you’re knocking at my door
Should I open it?
I’m not sure
Track Name: Saline Blues
Once I was one,
and once you were one, too

Once I was two,
and you were fourteen and free

Once I was three,
and you weren’t so free anymore

And when I was four,
my parents cut my hair in a ridiculous fashion
It was a long time before I knew that I looked like a fool

And when I was four,
you were wearing your hair the way all the boys liked it,
outside your all-girls Catholic school

And I wouldn’t call it thriving,
you on top of the lowest link of chain at twenty-five
And I was more-than-just-surviving
on feelings in the air
or things trapped inside a closet—
I was allowing them to eat me alive

Yesterday I met someone
with your same head of hair,
your same set-hip swivel,
and your same lamb-eyed stare

Oh, but I wouldn’t dare

Do you remember counting,
double-counting cash in the back room?
It was then I knew I didn’t want to be the first to leave

And after I had recounted last night’s clash out in the street,
you told me something I couldn’t help but believe

And now your are thirty,
and I am in a hole

Now you are whole,
you and that certain someone

But once you were one,
and I was one, too
Track Name: Boy
You’re just a boy,
but your fingers are so sore

You made a game of winding twine
around them so tight,
so you could keep a good score

But I’d set you free
I’d cut all them strings,
except one little one for me

And then I’d wind it tighter, tighter, tighter—
watch that piggy hit the floor!
I’m just trying to remind you
that my love is pure
I’d do it for you, love—
they wouldn’t call you that name anymore

You’re such a pretty little boy,
but your health is so poor

They started at your skin
They picked your bones clean
They stripped you down to your core

And now there’s none of you left
But I’d nurse you health
I’d stitch you up by myself

I’d tear off all the leeches
that make love to your veins
They’re obsequious, beseeching you
a spot on your brain
I’d suck your gutters dry, love—
they wouldn’t call you that name anymore

They’re out for your blood
I’m out for your love
They’re out for your guts
I’m out for your love
They’re out for your stuff
I’m out for your love

I’m out for your love, love

And they might want what’s inside your glove,
but I want your love
They might want to wipe down your gun,
but I want your love
They might want to give you a shove or two or three,
but I want your love

Give me your love, love
I’ll give you my love, love
Give me your love, love,
love, love, love, love