1. |
||||
I want to play the blues but I have a problem to tell
I want to play the blues but I have a problem to tell
I don’t know the notes, so I can’t play the blues too well.
My ukulele makes a happy, cheerful sound
My ukulele makes a happy, cheerful sound
But when you’re playin’ the blues, that’s not what you want around
My industry’s in a slump, so I’m underemployed
And my creditors are getting really annoyed
If I don’t find a full-time job soon, I’m gonna be finished
Everything but my notes and chords is gettin’ flattened and diminished
So I sing the blues, but the melody don’t agree
Yeah, I sing the blues, but the melody don’t agree
I can’t even play the blues, have pity on me.
No, I can’t even play the blues, have pity on me.
|
||||
2. |
I Want a Refund
02:09
|
|||
One Tuesday, near the Jamba Juice, I saw a tiny shop
It was selling superpowers at a thousand bucks a pop
Now, I was feeling really hurt; I was dumped the day before
I asked for invulnerability, and the merchant answered “sure.”
And now laser beams bounce off of me
And bullets do the same
And sticks and stones can’t break my bones
But what about the names?
I wanted to be safe from pain
I wanted to be free
Turns out invulnerability
Ain’t what it’s s’posed to be
I spend my days fighting crime, working with goodwill
’Cause with great power, blah blah blah, I’m sure you know the drill
But every night I’m at the mall looking for a tiny store
And if I ever find that one again, they’re gonna hear me roar
’Cause laser beams bounce off of me
And bullets do the same
And sticks and stones can’t break my bones
But what about the names?
I wanted to be safe from pain
I wanted to be free
Turns out invulnerability
Ain’t what it’s s’posed to be
“Just sign here,” said the merchant
“The fine print’s legal jargon!”
But later on, I read it.
It clarified the bargain:
Our service has limits, you’re sure to find out
It won’t change dysphoria, shame, or self-doubt
Your empathy won’t be affected a smidge
Tell your best friend: keep away from the fridge
People may hate you, in spite of your help
Folks that you save may be hateful on Yelp
Imprudent investments will cost you your shirt
Though nothing can touch you, you still can be hurt!
And now laser beams bounce off of me
And bullets do the same
And sticks and stones can’t break my bones
But what about the names?
I wanted to be safe from pain
I wanted to be free
Turns out invulnerability
Ain’t what it’s s’posed to be
(I want a refund!)
|
||||
3. |
Five and Dime
02:11
|
|||
If no one remembers your birthday
Of course that’s a terrible shame
But if no one remembers your birthday
You’ve only yourself to blame
So strike up the band and spread the word
Take on the challenge with strength
People should know of your birthday
And my birthday is May Tenth!
The world offers lots of distractions
There’s day jobs and night schools and debt
If you want folks to honor your birthday
Then you must make it hard to forget
So take out an ad in the New York Times
Promotion is never a crime!
People should know of your birthday
And mine’s at the Five and Dime!
’Cause this is not some kind of test
For family, friends, and frenemies
If we want cake, we must refresh
Most everybody’s memories
We all deserve one day a year
When we are celebrated
Because we do exist; because
Our parents procreated! And…
If no one remembers your birthday
It’s not that they mean to do wrong
But it’s hard to keep track of all birthdays
Unless they’ve been put in a song
So pick up your uke and write a few lines
If they’re not very good, that’s okay
People should know of your birthday
My birthday’s the Tenth of May!
Yes, hire a pilot to write in the sky
Don’t fear getting carried away!
People should know of your birthday
My birthday’s the Tenth of May!
|
||||
4. |
Hey, Adora
03:17
|
|||
Hey, Adora,
What’s it like in the Rebellion?
I’m a thousand miles away
But that means nothing to a hellion
Get a clue
Bright Moon can’t shine as bright as you
I swear, it’s true
Hey, Adora,
Don’t you worry about the distance
I’m right there to take you back
When you get over your resistance
’Cause we’re friends
Together, we’ll achieve our ends
Come make amends
Oh, it’s what you do to me
Oh, my lifelong frenemy
Oh, Adora, can’t you see
Oh, it’s what you do to me
What you do to me
Hey, Adora,
Well, you’ve always been protected
You’re Shadow Weaver’s favorite
You’re the one that she selected
As her pet
Betcha think I’m in your debt
Oh, I just bet
Hey, Adora,
I’ve got nothing more to say
Maybe once we were a team
But now you’ve thrown it all away
And left the Horde
Who cares about your fancy sword?
I say I’m bored
Oh, it’s what you do to me
Oh, my lifelong frenemy
Oh, Adora, can’t you see
Oh, it’s what you do to me
What you do to me
You’ll find it hard to keep your calm
When I attend the Princess Prom
Where etiquette demands they let me stay
This time I will take the lead
And though you’ll try to intercede
Your sword is coming back with me today
Adora, I can promise you
That by the time that we get through
The world will never ever be the same
And you’re to blame
Hey, Adora,
Save your righteous indignation
Though you had me playing sidekick
That was not my aspiration,
Just respect
Don’t even try to interject
I’m not a weakling to protect
Hey, Adora, go get wrecked
You heard correct
Oh, it’s what I’ll do to you
Now I’m Hordak’s number two
The Rebellion will be through
Oh, it’s what I’ll do to you
What I’ll do to you
|
||||
5. |
I'm Anxious
02:05
|
|||
I’m anxious about everything, it’s true
From when I start to stir to when I’m back in bed
I doubt everything that I think and do
And most of the time, I’m simply filled with dread
I’m anxious about all the taxes I owe
I’m anxious about my student loans
But if I won the Lotto, I already know
I’d be anxious about what to do with the dough
I don’t have a better message here
No stirring climax, no words of hope
I’m in debt and Jewish and genderqueer
And my brain makes it hard for me to cope
I’m anxious about the world we’re in
I’m anxious about our bigot in chief
I’m anxious about my kith and kin
That some support him is beyond belief
I used to be worse before SSRIs
Took me down from like a nine to a four
But my energy levels also took a dive
And that only makes me anxious more
I can function onstage, where my role’s defined,
But I’m out of place when in society
There’s nothing I do that isn’t undermined
’Cause I’m always filled with anxiety
I don’t have a better message here
No stirring climax, no words of hope
I’m tired and stressed and maybe too sincere
And my brain makes it hard for me to cope
And I’m always filled with anxiety
|
||||
6. |
||||
Professor Willow has a farm upstate
Where the Pokémon love to play
They run and fight and have lots of fun
Every night and every day
You don’t need to see the farm
It’s awfully far from here
Just give him all your troubles
And he’ll make them disappear
Professor Willow has a farm upstate
Every Pokémon trainer knows it
So don’t talk to that journalist
Who says she wants to expose it
I don’t know what her problem is
She says we’re all inhumane
She’s always on about monster rights
Some people love to complain
And the Pokémon are happy
There are thousands, arm in arm
They frolic there without a care
On Willow’s four-acre farm!
Professor Willow has a farm upstate
Where your Pokémon can park it
He also makes great sausages
That he sells at the farmer’s market
They’re juicy and delicious
You’d think they’d be more pricy
They come in eighteen varieties
Red hot, grass-fed, and spicy
But the Pokémon are happy
Pikachu and Excadrill
They’re having fun out in the sun
Stop looking at the grill
Professor Willow has a farm upstate
Everything is fine and dandy
So give him Pokémon you don’t need
And he’ll give you lots of candy
It’s normal if they cry
No need to make amends
You’re doing what is best for them
Just take the candy for your friends
And don’t talk to that journalist
Just take the candy for your friends
Team Rocket are the evil ones
Just take the candy for your friends
|
||||
7. |
The Horse Is a Pain
03:34
|
|||
On the first part of the journey
We were headed off to Bree
Tom Bombadil kept rescuing
Us and Uncle Bilbo’s ring
We got to the Prancing Pony
Met a ranger with a hilt
But another human, Boromir,
Would take on a lot of guilt
I’ve walked into Mordor bearing Isuldur’s Bane
Though the burden was really a strain
Couldn’t take an eagle or even a plane
’Cause the Eye of Sauron would notice a plane
La la la, laaa, la la la la, la la la, laaa la…
I was walking from the subway
I wanted to get some food
I didn’t want a pizza
Or anything barbecued
Those things are nice, they would suffice
But I wasn’t in the mood
I hit Happy Garden, got a quart of lo mein
And a fortune that was not arcane
It said “Be good to yourself if you want to be sane”
I added “in bed” and I laughed like a drain
La la la, laaa, la la la la, la la la, laaa la…
I was strumming my ukulele
And this song wouldn’t let me be
“The heat was hot,” “there were…rocks and things,”
It’s a poor excuse for poetry
But the pattern gets into everything
And your mind just knocks about
And no matter what you want to sing
This is what comes out
I smell like Teen Spirit on a horse with Cobain—
I called in a plumber and she’ll clean out the drain—
I’ve gone to the silos where I keep all my grain—
We’re off to the wizard, ’cause I don’t have a brain—
I tried out for Hamlet, got the role of the Dane—
I’ve been to the barber, now my horse has no mane—
This two-chord song is stuck in my brain
So I’m passing it on, such a shame
This sequence of lyrics is a terrible pain
And now all of you get to hear me complain
La la la, laaa, la la la la, la la la, laaa la…
|
||||
8. |
||||
This is a simple little song to sing throughout the land
It’s not trying to be bold, it’s not trying to be grand
It’s not a song that’s clever, or filled with highs and lows
It’s a simple little song, and this is how it goes:
La la la la la la la, la la la la la,
La la la la la la la la la la la la la,
La la la la la la la, la, la, la
La la la la la la, la la la la la.
It’s a simple little song: it’s not heavy, it’s not fraught
It distracts me from the coming neo-Nazi juggernaut
Yes, it’s a simple little song, you can sing it if you try
When I do, I don’t remember that we’re gonna freakin’ die.
La la la…
It’s hard to write a simple song in dark and troubled times
I want it light and fluffy, but there’s too much on my mind
I want it to be happy—maybe wistful, at the most,
But I smell the smoke around us, and it’s clear that we’re all toast
It’s a simple little song, it was meant for everyone
And like our whole republic, I guess it’s almost done
I hope it makes you happy and cuts right through the gloom
As we hold our heads up high and go bravely to our doom.
La la la…
|
||||
9. |
||||
Buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.
Buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.
Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.
Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.
Buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.
Buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.
The gostak distims the doshes.
The gostak distims the doshes.
The doshes have been distimmed by the gostak that distims the doshes.
Buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.
Buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.
Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.
Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.
Buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.
Buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo!
|
||||
10. |
My Sneakers Are Dead
01:41
|
|||
My sneakers are dead. It’s sad, but it’s true.
They’re dirty and scuffed and the soles are worn through.
They can’t be repaired, so it’s just as I’ve said:
It’s sad, but it’s true that my sneakers are dead.
My sneakers are dead, after only three years.
My socks can be seen through the rips and the tears.
They can’t be repaired, so it’s just as I’ve said:
After only three years, my sneakers are dead.
I used to think they would last me forever,
But the laces won’t lace, and there’s more holes than leather.
They’re weathered by wear, and they’re worn by the weather.
I think it’s my sweat that holds them together…
My sneakers are dead. A new pair’s a must.
The whole darn right heel has been ground into dust
They can’t be repaired, so it’s just as I’ve said:
A new pair’s a must, ’cause my sneakers are dead.
Yes, it’s sad, but it’s true that my sneakers are dead.
|
||||
11. |
Emperor Norton
02:09
|
|||
Long may he reign in San Francisco!
Long may he reign in San Francisco!
Joshua Norton spends his whole fortune
To corner the market on rice
Not very nice
Peruvian traders come with more grain
And it’s plain that his plan’s up in smoke
Norton goes broke
All the reckless dreamers
Where do they all come from?
All the reckless dreamers
Where do they all belong?
Emperor Norton writes proclamations
Takes over the nation, you know
Protects Mexico
Surveys his city; don’t call it Frisco
His scrip pays for meals by the sea
The cops let him be
All the reckless dreamers
Where do they all come from?
All the reckless dreamers
Where do they all belong?
Long may he reign in San Francisco!
Long may he reign in San Francisco!
Joshua Norton died on the corner
A pauper, no funds for a grave
The end of an age
Local supporters paid for the casket,
The masses turned out, such acclaim
Everyone came
All the reckless dreamers
Where do they all come from?
Some go to California
And find that they belong…
|
||||
12. |
||||
So you have a friend named Danny
And his pronoun is “he”
But for years you’ve been accustomed
To refer to him as “she”
And you want to get it right
But routine is set in stone
So you practice his new pronouns
Loud and clear, when you’re alone
This is my friend, his name is Danny
He himself is a friend of mine.
I’m so glad to be a friend of his
Both he and I are fine.
So you have a friend named S.
And their pronoun is “they”
And maybe you’re not used to
Thinking of them in that way
And you want to get it right
In the flesh and on the phone
So you practice their new pronouns
Loud and clear, when you’re alone
This is my friend, their name is S.
They themself are a friend of mine.
I’m so glad to be a friend of theirs
Both they and I are fine.
You don’t want to hurt your friends
Or imply that they’re pretenders
Be sure to use the pronouns that
Reflect their proper genders
Habits may die hard
But that’s not a dispensation
To make some brand-new habits,
All it takes is acclimation
So you have a friend named Gal
And hir pronoun is “ze”
Which might be a fresh addition
To your vo-cab-u-lar-y
And you want to get it right
In New York and in Bayonne
So you practice hir new pronouns
Loud and clear, when you’re alone
This is my friend, hir name is Gal
Ze hirself is a friend of mine.
I’m so glad to be a friend of hirs
Both ze and I are fine.
All you need is practice
And you’ll get it in the end
And surely that is worth it
If you want to be a friend
|
||||
13. |
||||
I used to have a wardrobe
Full of jeans and cords for boys
And each one boasted storage space
The size of Illinois
There was room to hold my wallet
And some tissues, and a pen
And I never really knew
Just how good I had it then
But try shopping on the women’s side
And it’s so absurdly hard
To find a pair of pants with room
To fit one credit card
So while boy clothes aren’t gen’rally
A cause for reminiscing
I can’t stand the lack of pockets—
And I know what I am missing!
Makers of fake pockets!
Oh, how I so despise them!
I don’t think it is possible
To over-criticize them!
They say it’s to “preserve the line,”
“A sleeker silhouette”
But that’s garbage, and they know it,
And it makes me so upset!
I like wearing pretty dresses
Skirts that swirl around the knees
They’re comfy and they’re pleasant
In a gentle summer breeze
I’m also fond of leggings
They’re like T-shirts, just downstairs
And because I’m in New York,
Almost no one really cares.
But the copier at work requires swiping my ID
And to get into the house
I should also have my keys
And I need to hold my phone
(It is not just incidental)
And when dresses come with pockets
Half the time they’re ornamental!
Makers of fake pockets!
They are utterly perverse!
They take payola from Chanel
To make you have to buy a purse!
Now, my handbags are delightful
They hold lots of stuff, and yet
If I’m being forced to carry one,
It makes me so upset!
Someday there will be a change of weather
Someday we will stand up for what’s right
Someday the oppressed will band together
Someday we will have an epic fight
Someday we will cleanse the land in fire
Someday tyrants everywhere will fall
All our foes will finally expire
And who will be the first against the wall?
Makers of fake pockets!
They’re the worst to ever live!
It’s the one thing in the world
That there are no grounds to forgive!
Oh, the Nazis will be second,
And the fascists may be third—
Predatory payday lenders:
They will also be interred—
And you may think it’s draconian
But ask me if I care
’Cause we’re gonna get the tailors
When the revolution’s here!
|
||||
14. |
||||
So you have a friend named Lori
And her pronoun is “she”
And she’s asked you out for coffee
Or perhaps a cup of tea
And you want to get it right
You don’t need a chaperone
So you practice her new pronouns
Loud and clear, when you’re alone
This is my friend, her name is Lori
She herself is a friend of mine.
I’m so glad to be a friend of hers
Both she and I are fine.
So you have a friend named Max
And eir pronoun is “ey”
(Christine Elverson of Skokie
Coined those pronouns, by the way)
And you want to get it right
When you shout, or you intone
So you practice eir new pronouns
Loud and clear, when you’re alone
This is my friend, eir name is Max
Ey eirself is a friend of mine.
I’m so glad to be a friend of eirs
Both ey and I are fine.
You don’t want to hurt your friends
Or imply that they’re pretenders
Be sure to use the pronouns that
Reflect their proper genders
Habits may die hard
But that’s not a dispensation
To make some brand-new habits,
All it takes is acclimation
So you have a friend, Mackenzie,
And xir pronoun is “xie”
(It’s a lot of fun to say this,
’Cause it buzzes like a bee!)
And you want to get it right
Your concern’s not overblown
So you practice xir new pronouns
Loud and clear when you’re alone
This is my friend, xir name’s Mackenzie
Xie xirself is a friend of mine.
I’m so glad to be a friend of xirs
Both xie and I are fine.
All you need is practice
And you'll get it in the end
And surely that is worth it
If you want to be a friend
|
Sunday Comes Afterwards Jersey City, New Jersey
Stevonnie Ross (they/them) is yet another geeky, ukulele-playing, folk/pop singer/songwriter.
Contact Sunday Comes Afterwards
Streaming and Download help
Sunday Comes Afterwards recommends:
If you like Sunday Comes Afterwards, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp