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Hypocrisy In The Genius Room

by Rob Getzschman

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1.
Well the train I ride is an old-school engine, fourteen coaches long And the battle cry of a new republic stokes my fire strong There's forty-nine tracks into Union Station off the east Atlantic line Come crash through the walls of a generation right about suppertime Hey yeah, we got the satellite hookup Hey yeah, we got the frequency Hey yeah, for all the lone guerilla monitors When the angels sing Well the girl I love is a revolutionary like the written word Hidden on a page that'll change the ages once it's seen and heard I've heard about a plan for to sink the man around the industry underground And when the media quacks read the telepromters, they'll know what's going down Hey yeah, we got the satellite hookup Hey yeah, we got the frequency Hey yeah, for all the lone guerilla monitors Who know what they say and they say what they mean when they say Pockets of resistance are rising All around this town And the old regime is just a clipper capsizing When we shake 'em down The man with the sandwich board will tell you to repent 'cause the end is near But it don't matter none 'til you join the rebellion and open your eyes and ears Hey yeah, we got the satellite hookup Hey yeah, we got the frequency Hey yeah, for all the lone guerilla monitors Who know what they say and they say what they mean when they say Pockets of resistance are rising All around this town And the old regime is just a clipper capsizing When we shake 'em down
2.
The peach flavor sins are not cash-redeemable They can't be redeemed for cash And chasing hundredths of a cent Isn't gonna pay my rent but might catch me the lash The lash of a tongue of a shoe on a foot in the door Oh, Lord But I'm cuttin' coupons anyway 'Cause coupons are just like Jesus in that they save And I've been saved, I've been saved for later I tend to waver Living large at the low-low price Like a dollar store savior sacrifice It's the proto-vice It's the "yes, dear that's nice" There's a mail-in rebate on my head A money-back guarantee is what they said No money down, no risk involved, no style, no tact, no class No purchase necessary Bad credit? No credit? Zero-point-zero APR and a salary to let me rot To let me rot on just one calorie From the peanut gallery we're Living large at the low-low price Like a dollar store, save your sacrifice It's the neo-crisis It's the "yes, dear that's nice" The peach flavored sins are not cash redeemable They can't be redeemed for cash And the customer is always right 'cause they don't know better And they can't believe it's not butter And it tastes nothing, it tastes nothing like butter Awww Living large at the low-low price Like a dollar store savior sacrifice It's the anti-christ It's the "yes, dear that's nice" And that's why It's so nice 'Cause it's the low-low The low-low It's the low-low, low-low price It's the low-low price It's the low-low price Buy now
3.
The peasants have called off the wedding It seems like it’s getting to be The essence of details upsetting Of retails indebting the free Like everything’s gotta be Exactly as it oughtta be spoken Trust in the lottery Soldered on a subway token They call the waste of an era The taste of a sterilized passion For all these immaculate sparrows The scarecrows and rarified fashions With everything reduced To the concentrated juice of a lemon And the high fructose corn syrup solutions They are selling But we can sing, if you want, until the clouds come home Until Mao Tse Dong throws the game And if you think it’s a front, or some apodictical farce Put the Porsche before the cart and make it plane When they run past you a few forms to fill out Your victories all will now be pyrrhic Give us one last kiss before you sell out We’ll miss you when you spell out generic ‘Cause all we ever wanted Was a solid gold sonnet on a breakbeat A little taste of honesty Pressed into a vinyl worthy of framing But tell us something we don’t know The face of a photo of dreams Embellish, enchant it in totems In granite, or sowed in the seams And maybe some day When the four-tank parade comes assailing We’ll turn the other way When we’ll find ourselves engaged To the one man left standing in the street And we can sing, if you want, until the clouds come home Until Mao Tse Dong throws the game But if you think it’s a front, or some apodictical farce Put the Porsche before the cart and make it plane And bling bling bling, if you want, until the crowds blow foam Until Mao Tse Dong rolls in his grave But if you think it’s a front, or some apodictical farce Put the horse-power before the cart and make it plain
4.
Power corrupts Power corrupts Power corrupts Power corrupts Thermonuclear subs Winning ticket stubs Dowries and prenups Power corrupts Ecumenical nuts Corporate logo cups Chemical suds Power corrupts And with a chance at the big dance Every fourth ward representative is gonna cut corners For the pants in the family feud, what'll you do? Starin' down an offer that you can't refuse Like cement boots or the stoop of the White House Flippin' through the news of the nation Strictly sensation off the cover price And drug companies, all more marketing than research All for the product of a billion Power corrupts Power corrupts Power corrupts Power corrupts Aww shucks
5.
Just gimme a bromide Something clever to go buy Some end-all slogan to be known by Give me a piece of your own mind Like some jackpot soundbyte Some bumper sticker to be quoted like scripture All around the town This is lotto prophecy Swingin' on a hollow policy Hangin' clever signs on a dollar tree Is always easier Than makin' yourself some change Just gimme a tee shirt With some repeated phrase That you can stamp your feet to in and out of phase Just give me some gratitude Or some immaculate grudge And lay it out in platitudes because no one here Is thinking very much at all This is lotto prophecy Swingin' on a hollow policy Hangin' clever signs on a dollar tree Is always easier Than makin' yourself some change Just gimme a Mastercard At some astounding rate And they can purchase your problems and curry your favor Courrier favor Buy some bottled oxygen And the latest postal stamp And you can purge all of your toxins Through 150 watts of a broken Marshall amp This is lotto prophecy Swingin' on a hollow policy Hangin' clever signs on a dollar tree Is always easier Than askin' yourself to change
6.
Spastic gyrations of a graceless nature Captivate the nation's hearts and minds But the point was missed in hyper ballistic variations of the twist And don't everybody have to know about this Break out the mashed potato And check out the PE ratio The running man claims that he can Carry this dance floor across the land And don't everybody have to know about this Here's the pitch Liberate the macarena Prescription white dance, Lorena Take two bunny hops and a boogaloo The electric slide will be a guide to you And don't everybody have to know about this Tape your wrists Break out the mashed potato In vice-presidential dayglo Well my girl's got a Goodyear halo And I'm like buttermilk laced with drano And don't everybody have to know about this Invite the crips Break out the mashed potato Break out the mashed potato Break out the mashed potato
7.
Elements of reality come peckin' through my shell And make this incubation seem a whole lot less like hell The timer on the egg is just about to ring the bell And I'm stuck in this yolk, stuck in this hoax Stuck in this Plymouth Caravelle and still I've got the feeling I've got the feeling That everything I've got the feeling I've got the feeling That everything Official documents, stereophonic sex Kitchen appliances are all just in your head The Hudson and the Seine Playdough and Paddington Cowboys and Indians are all just in your head Esoteric flaws in the ether tend to surface when Fireflies in jelly jars and pandas in a pen Speak of Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenence But negatives of daffodills are all just in your head and I've got the feeling I've got the feeling That everything I've got the feeling I've got the feeling That everything Elements of reality come peckin' through my shell And make this incubation seem a whole lot less like hell Am I blind to something I should see or blinded by something else But it's just trading one for the other, and that's what tortures me I've got the feeling I've got the feeling That everything I've got the feeling I've got the feeling That everything matters in the grand scheme of Everything matters in the grand scheme of Everything matters in the grand scheme of things
8.
On the ace of avenues I played my cards Where the sidewalk meets the street East on the side as the raven flies Where you can surf unreality Where every visionary is a Lach-key kid And everybody's got a re-run dream Of being thrown out the door by the folk hardcore For soundin' like a hillbilly Where there ain't no stranger to the system Whether it's heroin or heartbreak Or workin' til close in fifty shows In fifty nights in fifty states And antifolk music is dead I stood by the foot of the bed and watched it go No, no, no, I said Antifolk music is dead And as soon as it cut the edge I should've known When there's trouble in the country And the soil rains down and you're one foot in the grave And four score lightnings hit the sky You're bound to drive out of range When the bad faces come and your lucky number nine Is going east with the wind And you don't even want to be a rock star anymore Grab these words: Antifolk music is dead I stood by the foot of the bed and watched it go No, no, no, I said Antifolk music is dead And as soon as it was cutting edge I should've known Oh, no So let's all be beautiful and let's all be bulletproof And as soon as we get back to smoke-filled room I'll see the setting sun with you 'Cause antifolk music is dead It floated up to balloon heaven and I watched it go And antifolk music is dead I stood by the foot of the bed and watched it go No, no, no, I said Antifolk music is dead And as soon as it was cutting edge I should've known
9.
Well it ain't much further up around the bend Swing your partner as you please She'll be gone before the summer sees the leaves They disappear like fruit from Mason jars Sealing wax without a doubt But stretched between the stars The stores of a seven-year long drought And that's as far as I can see Mercy mercy mercy mercy me Well here's the very creek where gold was found Head couple promenade She'll be gone before the sun can see the shade They disappear like reapers from the field Another season never sown Having closed another deal The reason all too many flocks have flown And that's as far as I can see Mercy mercy mercy mercy me
10.
This canned good had a life span Waitin' on a lonely shelf Damage in transit notwithstanding There's just about a bar code left All that's left in the fridge is corned beef hash A side of desperation and a jelly glass Listen homes, I want you to know You're not the only one alone You're not the only one alone Corned beef hash Corned beef hash Corned beef hash Soldier beans in the cupboard One heel of Wonder Bread A chilly wind blows from the frozen foods And there's a cold tin can wishin' he were dead And it's corned beef hash Corned beef hash Corned beef hash Listen homes, I want you to know You're not the only one alone You're not the only one that's alone
11.
Old-Ass Man 03:17
I'm feelin' like an old-ass man And I'm not even twenty-seven Wonderin' if I've lived enough Or if I just think too much But I'm feelin' like an old-ass man The lone defendent takin' the stand Testify that life tried to murder me Committin' myself to perjury Old-ass man, old-ass man The tracks don't come to an end Just because they disappear around the bend Well I don't believe in death And there isn't any contest But I can see in a sense Where I lost my innocence And is it too much to ask To feel like I want it back? Is it too much to ask To feel like don't wanna be an Old-ass man, old-ass man The tracks don't come to an end Just because they disappear around the bend
12.
Well this is contraverse perfect A bonafide sham But it shoulda been worth it For every crazy notion I think and therefore I am Sunny Jack Velvet On the Honey Smacks scene Doesn't have to Elvis To be part of a complete balanced breakfast And I've only got prospects to show Like a demolition city projects will never know And it's time I laid down my weary tune It's time I laid down my weary tune Disco Jam Sally Has never heard Of Tin Pan Alley But she's singin' their words verbatim:verbatim So if everybody knows About everybody else Let's get this show started Whoops and hollers, hells and yells and yes I've only got prospects to show Like a demolition city projects will never know And it's time I laid down my weary tune It's time I laid down my weary tune Honest to goodness It's understated I've seen the reaper hoodless And death is highly overrated And I've only got prospects to show Like a demolition city projects will never know And it's time I laid down my weary tune It's time I laid down my weary tune I've got an aerosol can of soul Out bombin' on the ozone Openin' up a hole to rain down on me
13.
Tin soldiers are frozen in the heave of grenades Politicians are chosen by the genuine smile on their faces And war trophy bouillabases And in the thick of a mischief, the clock has a hundred hands And the ancient wisdom of misfits can't tell you any better than I can Like a war plan written in shorthand Selah, selah Crack a bottle of bogus and take a swig of defeat Try to act like you know this and check the yes box if you like me Even if you think it's unlikely And when the ballots are counted and all the ballads composed And all the trumpets are sounded, we can just agree they were chosen Like a love note written in Morse Code Selah, selah And in the thick of a mischief, the clock has a hundred hands And the ancient wisdom of misfits can't tell you any better than I can
14.

about

Rob Getzschman's fifth album is his first self-produced effort. Recorded in studios from Maine to Washington, DC and St. Louis, the songs hop genres from indie rock to experimental noise, from jazz to folk ballads and even a ragtime guitar instrumental to close the album. One song decries dance crazes, another declares the death of antifolk, while "Make It Plane" assures that "all we ever wanted was a solid gold sonnet on a breakbeat".

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released September 28, 2005

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Rob Getzschman Los Angeles, California

Rob Getzschman is a singer-songwriter and producer from Omaha living in Los Angeles. He was previously front man for DC-based Analog Jetpack, played bass for LA's Highland Hawks and writes and produces music for Mighty Good Road. www.mightygoodroad.com

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