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CHESTER'S DOZEN
All songs c.1994 by A Halo Called Fred

DAMAGED
I don't care I don't give a fuck I hate everything everybody sucks I'm in pain that's no lie if I were God in Heaven everyone would die I'm damaged I'm damaged I don't care I don't have a soul I'm damaged I'm damaged hope you die before I get old.

(LYRICS BY BRUSHWOOD)

 

FRED
tells me that I should be the best damn human I can be.
Make a million bucks and travel round the world.
Can't you see a marvelous life unfurl?

Fred says I know what I want.
I should be standing tall and staunt.
Do everything I'd ever thought I'd do.
Life is always easy when it seems brand new.

Wheeeee! I'm moving forward.
Wheeeee! The world is backwards.
Everything that Fred tells me is true

...but here I am.

(LYRICS BY BRUSHWOOD)

 

I DON'T WANNA, IT'LL HURT
I wanna carve out your eyes with a red hot butter knife
Skin you alive within an inch of your life
I wanna rip out your teeth
and have the blood roll down my shirt
but you always say--

I don't wanna, it'll hurt.
I'm not a muppet like Ernie or Bert!

I wanna kiss your eardrum with a cut piano wire
Bathe you in champagne and set you on fire
I wanna soak your eyes in bleach
I'm asking nice, I'm never curt
but you always say--

I don't wanna, it'll hurt.

You don't want to die, you say
but death is not my intention
So let me torture your private parts
with my multi-knifed invention

So let's sew your tongue to the tip of your nose
Get a nice hydraulic press to flatten all your toes.
I wanna paint you bright colors and elongate your head with a vice
and force your eyes open so nice with eye drops
So you look like Ernie and Bert
but you always say--

I don't wanna, it'll hurt.

You can do it to me too, if you want to.

(LYRICS BY BRUSHWOOD)

 

BUTT!
I totally look like, totally feel like, totally smell like, totally taste like butt. I totally am butt.

Butt is a state of mind, not the mind of the state of confusion that borders Kentucky. Without it we couldn't move bowels or buildings. The build up would blow up. We couldn't eat food. The feeling is mutual. Sanity borders in retrograde motion. The buildup is blinding. The backlash is baffling me to no end. Why do I feel like I'm not in the mood?

I totally want your, totally need your, totally smell your, totally taste your butt. I totally am butt.

Butt is a place in my heart, not the heart of the place in my body that borders my back. Without it, we couldn't make mountains from molehills. We wouldn't get spankings. We wouldn't feel pain. The pain is unusual. Pleasantries border in retrograde chaos. Punishment happens in Freudian splendor, so why do I feel like I'm going insane?

How can strive to be the best we can be when it seems the best we can be is butt?

(LYRICS BY GEVEREND)

 

SENSITIVE
We're sensitive
Sensitive!
We're so sensitive

We don't even try
Look us in the eye
Shit we're going to cry
Because we're sensitive

We love you
Can you feel it too?
It's all that we can do
Because we're sensitive

You're not sensitive
You're not sensitive

Because we're sensitive

(LYRICS BY BRUSHWOOD & THE ADHESIVE QUEEN)

 

THE SUN'S SHINING RAYS OF LOVE
The sun is shining and the clouds are high!
The sky is smiling and so am I!
Everything's glowing and everything's bright!

Because the sun's shining rays of love!

All of your troubles will melt away!
All the animals will come and play!
We'll have a big party so I hope you'll stay!

Because the sun's shining rays of love!

All the birds in the trees sing their silly songs!
Eeek eeek aaak aaak tweet tweet!
All day long!

Everything is happy!

(LYRICS BY BRUSHWOOD)

 

LOLLIPOP
I have a lollipop that looks like you

I take a lick and laugh and take a bite or two

You'll never know the satisfaction I feel

Internally

Because you'll never

Have a lollipop

That looks

Like

Me

(LYRICS BY BRUSHWOOD)

 

MR. HOOPER
Do they remember the way he had that friendly rivalry with Big Bird?

"Hi, Mr. Looper", he would say.

"HOOPER, Hooper", came the response.

Mr. Hooper was good. Mr. Hooper was nice. He made good egg creams and read Yiddish newspapers. One day when the air conditioner was broken he made a new one out of a fan and a block of ice.

Do the kids today remember Mr. Hooper? They probably don't. They're all watching Barney. And they probably don't even remember when Mr. Snuffelupagus was still imaginary.

Then one day, Big Bird drew everybody's picture and he wanted to show Mr. Hooper the one he made for him.

"Where's Mr. Hooper?", he said.

"Mr. Hooper's not here. Mr. Hooper's dead and he's not coming back."

(LYRICS BY GEVEREND)

 

HUGS ARE BETTER THAN DRUGS
But nobody loves me so I'll smoke some crack. I can't turn to my family, 'cause you say family values are what they lack. You don't want me to hurt myself, so you take my only source of pleasure away. I can't get it anywhere, so I'll have to hurt myself a more pleasant way. I still get some hallucinatory effects each time I bash large bricks against my head. So if hugs are better than drugs, I guess I'm better off dead.

The man came up to me and said, "You un-American piece of shit, we're given laws to live by, and you're gonna have to deal with it. And if you don't, I'm very sure you don't deserve to live then!"

"So give me drugs," I said. But alas! This fellow would not give them.

Hugs are better than drugs, but I don't have the cash for either one. I'll try to scrape up the money, but I'll still feel like shit by the time I'm done. You say your religion will make me feel loved, but I think that right now it's just as well. If what you try to tell me is true, than everybody else I know will just wind up in Hell. There's still the great enlightenment I get each time I bash large bricks against my head. So If hugs are better than drugs, I guess I'm better off dead.

The man came up to me and said, "You nasty vile stream of ooze, you don't deserve a happy life unless you learn to pay your dues. And if you don't know what I mean, you don't deserve to live then!"

"So give me drugs," I said. But alas! this fellow would not give them.

Hugs are better than drugs, or so you've been saying all along. I'd have no way of knowing, but something about it seems a little wrong. You don't want me to hurt myself, so you take my only source of pleasure away. I can't get it anywhere, so I'll have to kill myself a more painful way. And I suppose if all else fails, I can keep on bashing bricks against my head. So If hugs are better than drugs, I guess I'm better off dead.

(LYRICS BY GEVEREND)

 

70'S CLOTHES

I'm gonna go into my parents' closet and take all of their seventies clothes.

I'm gonna go into my parent's seventies clothes and take all of their old drugs.

I'm gonna do all of the old drugs I find in my parents' seventies clothes.

Oh yeah.

(LYRICS BY GEVEREND & JIM BOB)

 

FIRE ALARM, don't do me harm. I'm fast asleep and getting warm. If you don't ring, I'll buy the farm.

Fire alarm, don't make me dead. If you don't ring I'll burn my head. I'll burn my leg and burn my arm.

Fire alarm. you didn't sound and now I'm ten feet under ground. You didn't ring. I bought the farm.

(LYRICS BY GEVEREND)

 

MY NAME IS SATAN and I want to tell you what to do. I'll make it worth your while to do the things I tell you to. With my protection guaranteeing not to make you dead, go home, get stoned, and shoot yourself in the head.

(insert very nasty and extremely blasphemous middle eight here)

A lovely woman was your dear old mother, rest her soul. To bad you killed her for not doing just what she was told. With her intestines whizzing gleefully 'round my big head, go home, get stoned, and shoot yourself in the head.

(insert backwards message not pertaining to anything religious or violent here)

(LYRICS BY YOUR DOG)

 

Y CHROMOSOME

She's got a Y chromosome, or so they say, but what will the neighbors think? But despite this seemingly minor flaw, I really think I love her. She's genetically wrong for what she is, but there's no need to raise such a stink. But whatever genetic inconsistencies there are, I really know I love her.

People come to me nearly every single day, and they say, "How did you manage to score such a catch?" But somehow or another, they always seem to shy away when they find out her genetics and genitals just don't match.

Why? I don't know why?

There's something going on with nature's magic wand, but every time I see her wink, the goosebumps in my spine shoot straight up and blow my mind, and I swear by my soul I love her.

(LYRICS BY GEVEREND)

(HAT)
This song is not about hats.
Oh, no. This song is not about hats.
This song is about something else. So fancy that!
This song is not about hats.

This song is about something that has never before been defined,
Can't be felt by the senses or comprehended by the mind.
And so my friends, we must now ask ourselves, "What is this song about?"
First of all, it is not about hats as was established at the opening of the song.

This narrows down the possibilities slightly.

Now Webster's New World Dictionary, Second College Edition defines a hat as a covering for the head. If Mr. Webster is correct (And why should we assume otherwise) then any object that can cover the head is a hat. If I put a book on my head, it would be a hat. If I put a chair on my head it would be a hat. If I put my guitar on my head, it too would be a hat.

If I put your mother on my head, she would be a hat.

And so, my friends, so far we have taken a very logical, very careful method of determining what the object is that is the subject of this song. As a matter of fact, we probably shouldn't be calling it an object, because if it is an object it can be put on someone's head, and if it can be put on someone's head, it might very well be considered a hat by the more observant members of society. This song must be about some kind of abstract concept. Like love. Or Democracy.

But wait, my friends. Have we forgotten that not everything in life can be taken entirely literally? We simply cannot deny the existence of metaphors. Not even the bad ones.

Love is a radioactive hat that causes confusion in the brain. Democracy is a protective helmet on the head of the free world. In fact the number of abstract concepts that can be metaphorically compared to hats are limitless. Metaphorically speaking, anything can be a hat.

And so my friends, we do not know what this song is about. We know what it is not, but we do not know what it is. It is not a hat. It is not something else. But it does exist for in a universe as infinitely vast as our own, it must exist. But it can't be sensed or even imagined. No one will ever find it. The world will have to go on throughout all eternity never finding this amazingly wonderful object that defies all imagination, and is not a fucking hat.

(LYRICS BY GEVEREND)

 

Copyright © 2017 A Halo Called Fred. We love you all.