Mental Dystrophy

I have been working up a set of music that I can play in coffee houses and the like with minimal setup and equipment, yet with enough of a technological edge as to challenge the listener. I want to show a certain realness and humanity to digital, electronic sounds. I want to tell a story, but, since I am a part of that story, it's hard for me to narrate it from the outside. Sometimes I feel as though my abilities are diminished by atrophied real world skills.

While recording the music that I've been practicing, I come upon, from time to time, examples of what happens in odd inspired moments that others might never know except for the fact that I have caught them on the computer before they scurry off into the aether without other humans ever hearing their twisted but insightful sighs.

Here is one that was caught recently. I've called it Mental Dystrophy. Flawed and clumsy at times, brilliant and facile at others, I am happy to allow others to share this intimate time with me.

It's Sarah Palin Again

I've got a bite on my arm
From teeth with razors of sin
Gushing blood all around
It's Sarah Palin again

I feel the cold in the room
Can't you feel the heat flee?
The caring mother's have died
And sent their sons out to sea

It's Sarah Palin again
It's Sarah Palin again

Now I'm finally feeling warm
I see the flames from a pyre
Oh my God! What has she done?
She's throwing books on the fire!

It's Sarah Palin again
It's Sarah Palin again

She's just simple and small
Just a bug in my eye
I'm still bleeding from her bite
I guess I'll never know why

I won't demean the pigs and fishes
By using them to compare
I still fear for our lives
She makes me not want to care
Somebody's got to care....

Not Sarah Palin again
Not Sarah Palin again

©2008 Stuart Dummit/DEStudios.net