The Money Shadow Song

 

MONEY001

 I might be starting a new album, in parallel with the possession album. This is the second in a series of songs where I give voice to my shadow (a Jungian archetype that encompasses the parts of the psyche that the person disowns). I have a complex relationship to money. I think lots of people do, and I'm one of them. I'm going to leave it to the listener to decide which parts of the song are my shadow and which parts are my conscious position. (In other words, the singing is one part, and the rapping is another part). 

That part of putting us both together pertains to the Transcendent Function in Jungian theory. Or at least I think it does. It's sort of like you build a bridge between these two archetypes that seem at odds with each other. It creates something that transcends both, as in the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.(If there're any Jungians out there who think I got this wrong, please let me know!)

The lyrics are:
I am poor, and I am stupid
Closing doors sing like soup kitchens

I cannot run a business

Smoking pot, I failed my piss test

 I am the lady that makes people pay me

Money, all over me feels like it's raining

And I don't care if they get poor

Money's the thing that I most adore

I don't care if everyone

Is poor with their lives undone

They're sore, from not having fun

I'm bored: they are not my problem

Can we put us both together?

As usual, here's the other player-thingy just in case the one up top doesn't work on your portable electronic device:

The Circle of the Sun

 

CRCLOSUN

 This is the next song in the album I'm working on about possession. In this song, you finally get introduced to the character, who's possessing the me-character. That character is a fire god. The fire god feels remorse for something and wants to go back home, to the circle of the sun. But for some reason, he feels like he can't.

Oh, yeah, when I was playing the rhythm loop on my computer, it made one of those notification sound thingies. I was all, "doh." /But I was too lazy to re-record the loop thingy part.

The lyrics are:
I think it's true that I am a God of fire
I'm feeling blue and I'm stuck inside a mire
I want to go back, I'm missing my old home
Yes, it is true that there, I won't be alone

In the circle of the sun, the circle of the sun

I'm on a journey inside a person's mind
And I'm not sure, these seem like some real bad times
Is she depressed or are these bad feelings mine?
I want to go back to my old home (and) be fine

In the circle of the sun, the circle of the sun

I am a fire god inside a person
Cuz I said why not? She's not the first one
I wish that I could go back home and I feel sad
Something I've done is so bad, my folks will be mad
I'm inside of a person I want to be like
Cuz I am the worst one, I ride her like a bike
Me and this person, we start to think alike
We're both the cursed ones, we scream into the night

I wish that I could go back home but first
I think I must atone cuz I'm the worst
Inside the sun, I have a lot of friends
But I must try to make my feelings mend

In the circle of the sun, the circle of the sun

Here's a player thingy, in case the one up top doesn't work on your portable electronic device:

Shadow Rap

 

SHADORAP

 This song ain't part of the album I'm working on: it's an active imagination experiment thingy I tried today. It attempting to talk to my unconscious this morning, I got the message that I should do a rap song today from the point of view of my shadow. The shadow is a Jungian archetype, which includes all the stuff about ourselves that we consciously reject and push to the back-burner of our psyches. My shadow likes mustard, but hates rap and country music. In real life I like country music and rap, but I don't like mustard.

Oh yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if I already used this melody and chord progression in another song. The melodic-singing parts are about how I feel right now. I'm having a depressive episode. It's not fun.

The lyrics are:
I'm a clean-freak, and I have a mean-streak
I hate beans; they're something I will not eat

I love mustard spread upon my sandwich

And I dust with wet rags in my hand, bitch

I am rapping my shadow, and I'm feeling alone

I don't know why I had to go, and I'm missing my home

I'm a mess

Every day that I'm living seems like nothing makes sense

When fucks are giving, they make me feel nothing but tense

I'm a mess

I complain all about everything that's in my life

I explain, and I shout, and I cut with verbal knives

And I hate rap music because I am a square

Yes, I state it's crap for losers, and I don't even care

I am scared, and I am getting ugly, and I don't care if everybody fucks me

I am real mean, and I am getting meaner, sitting in the scene that has a giant wiener

And I hate country music, it makes me want to barf

With the banjos and fiddles, it sounds like someone's fart

I'm a dildo-control, and I have to have a thing

With my will, I'm the soul of a yellow jacket's sting

Here's an alternative player thingy:

Rough Demo of Maybe Next Week's Song

 

CIRCLSUN

This is a rough demo of a song I'll probably do next week. I'm guessing the performance in this one has a better performance than next week's one will have.

 Here's the alternative player thingy:

Water All Over Me

 

H2OOERME

In the next song about  possession, Timmy and Bobby come upon me spraying myself with a hose. They don't know why I'm doing that.

The lyrics are:

Bad things are coming, bad things are coming
They're inside of me

There's a flame in my brain, and it's making lots of pain

It's inside of me

Water all over me

There's a town, and I frowned cuz I burnt it all down

If I spray myself down, maybe I can save the town

I will get the hose that waters that old rose

I want to sing about some water

With spraying things, my mind is not sure

Why it's a hose inside of my hand

Spraying my clothes inside of a rand-

om yearning to be all wet

My mind's learning that it has to fret

I'm spraying water on my head now

I say I'm not sure, but I'm dead now

Water all over me

Timmy and Bobby saw me, probably

My hose was sobbing, I have  a problem

And their minds got scared

Of this wet affair

Water all over me

Here's the alternative player thingy in case it works better than the other one on your portable electronic device:

My Friends Went Back Home

 

BACKH0ME

 I think this song kinda sucks, and my vocals sound all worn out. I dunno if it's from smoking pot or if it's cuz California is covered in smoke and making my throat all scratchy. In any event, Timmy and Bobby went home after seeing me talking all weird. You know how you get sorta depressed when you're hanging out with friends, and then they leave? That's what this song is about.

The lyrics are:
I kept talking 'bout fire...what's my deal?
Afterwards, I felt tired and unreal

My friends went back home and I'm all alone

My memory's not great for these events

My mind's inside a lake, and I'm tense

My friends went back home and I'm all alone

I'm a little bit less depressed than when they first left

I was sitting a test, but messed up...what was that test?

I must get it off of my chest; I was not a fun-friend

I must, yes, I must now confess I was acting dumb, in the end

I'm a little bit less depressed than when they first left

My friends went back home and I'm all alone

Jesus Has Some Work To Do

 

JESUSWRK

 This is one of those crappy demos I did just for shits and giggles. It's not that good. It's not part of the current project - it was just a dumb thing I did.

It's about how the past year has been, the way the trauma from my horrible awful bad health problems has made me lose parts of my soul. You start to feel really lonely when parts of your soul are missing - there's less of you to keep yourself company. The horror of this awful badness, it just keeps and going.

 Me and the doc are trying this one more conservative measure, but if it doesn't work, I'm goin' for the surgery. It would be surgery to get me out of Hell. If I get out of Hell, if my body is safe to live in again, maybe those missing parts of my soul will come back. 

In the meantime, Jesus says he's hanging onto those missing parts of my soul, for safe-keeping. (Thank you, Jesus). He thinks after my body is safe to inhabit again (if it ever happens), I could use Linkin Park's music to call those parts of my soul back into my body.

Here are the lyrics

I don't have me to keep me company

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus

I'm sitting in a tower of gloom; it is making me think of doom

I don't have me to keep me company

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus

Jesus said he's with parts of my soul in the dark
They got cold, here's some fire, use some coal, and a lighter
Jesus says he is dark in my soul
He just wants Linkin Park to come dole
music that makes me cry cuz I'm sad
Fusing rap makes me high cuz it's rad 

Jesus had a little bit of work to do, Jesus had a little bit of work

Don't Cry For Me

 

DONTCRY4

 Here's the next song in the possession album. The first rap and the singing parts are the me-character, and the 2nd and 3rd raps are Timmy and Bobby. They're confused cuz I keep talking as if I'm a fire, and I don't want them to cry because their tears might put out the fire that I am.

The lyrics are:

I am a fire; if you cry for me

You'll put me out with tears of the sea

I am the flame and I am the fire

Singing, untamed, with burning desire

I am burning everything in my path

With people learning they should hide in their baths

Whoah, don't cry for me

I am fire and everything turns to ash

Things got dire with singing lightning that flashed

Whoah, don't cry for me

Why does she keep talking about fire?

As if she is rocking a funeral pyre

I wonder if this is some demon possession

We're under the impression our best friend

Needs maybe a priest or a shaman

Or a hungry leech will fix the problem

Maybe she's water in the desert for a hungry being

What if we lost her? We better get rid of this thing

I am stuck in an endless panic attack

Whoah, don't cry for me

Here's the other player thingy, in case the one up top doesn't work on your portable electronic device:

Backwards Song With a Bathroom in the Forwards One

BACKBATH
This backwards song made me think of pastel-colored flowers. Not that you can tell they're pastel-colored from the picture, cuz it's black and white.

No More Songs

NOMORSNG
This is a song about death; specifically, it's about the death of someone who sings songs. See, there'll be no more songs after she's dead. The picture is of her up in Heaven, with Chester Bennington singing in the background. The 11 stuff refers to his vocals being good and loud. His vocals go up to 11.

Edit: Oh, whoops, I hadn't realized this song's timer thingy was set to go off yesterday - I cain't tell how darkly this song comes across to listeners, but I wrote it in January, when I was having really bad health issues and at times was scared I was dying in real life. That's why this post is a little on the dark side.

Weird no more songs

Here's last week's song if you turn it around backwards.

The lyrics are:

There’s no victors, I’m the bad one / In the pictures, I’m the sad one

And I’m dying, please don’t miss me / songs are crying in the piss stream

There’s no more songs

There is no more songs are crying / life is over and I’m dying

Will I see him up in Heaven? / Or have we sinned? There’s no betting

There’s no more songs

Under the clouds in a sky of blue

Wonder out loud: is it what I gotta do?

Going far away, can he see me?

Is it my last day? I’ll die singing

Linkin Park is no more dark when I’m thinking stark in a sinking ark

And I pay there will be a day, but I do not think there is a way

Wonder if he can see me up in Heaven?

He’s my favorite man, with a voice eleven

A Song I Posted A While Ago ("Backwards Evil Operatic Song")

 

I posted this here backwards song a while ago, but I didn't have this type of player thingy in the post. So, I decided to post it again just in case your portable electronic device has trouble playing the other player thingy.

I Sing Loud

 

SINGLOUD

This is the next song in the album about possession: in it, I'm thinking about how I sing loud. But, then I get really alarmed because some of the lyrics I ended up writing don't sound like me. Oh, my.

The lyrics are:

I sing loud, I sing loud; I'm a country singer, and I like to sing real loud; I'm a country singer and I like to sing real loud

I see flames, from fire, untamed; Now I'm singing backwards, and it makes me feel real ;proud; it is Heaven's password, and it takes us to the clouds

Wait, what? No, these lyrics do not, they do not sound like me, the do not sound like my old singing
Was it because I smoked some pot? It was really strong weed, the kind that makes you cry, with eyes stinging

And my friends, they saw me act weird, we were drinking some beer, and their eyes filled with fear; Oh, Jesus

Yes, by then, I'd had too much beer, and my thoughts were unclear, and I asked my friends, "Dear, oh please just help."

I burn higher; I sing fire; I am made of flames, and I'm burning and untamed; it is all the same, and I'm singing in my name

Here's another player-thingy, in case the one above doesn't work on your portable electronic device:

She Needs Help

NEEDHELP

This is the next song in the album about demon/spirit/other-entity possession. Timmy and Bobby are all worried and don't know what to do because I'm acting so funny. They wonder if seeing a psychologist, or a something-else-ologist, or getting medication would be a good idear at this point. I got all worried, in real life, that the melody of this song already existed (I got it from a dream a few days ago), so I speak to that, too. 

The lyrics are:
She needs help, we don't know what to do

Is this Hell? It burns her, through and through

Did she sin? Was it a past life?

Drinking gin, her feelings fill with strife

Wait, does she need a psychologist inside her head?

Or a something-else-ologist, with a good med?

With medication that will make her feel right again

Inside a patient-waiting, we will sit with our friend

She is talking like a demon inside of a den

We are worried because she's undone, and she's our friend

What all will it take for her to sing again?

She's in a fiery lake, and we want her to mend

Wait, does this song already exist?

Am I just a singing plagiarist?

If it's true, then I apologize

For this careless, stupid oversite

Our friend, she is feeling distressed, and we want to do whatever would be best

Our friend, she is stuck in the mire, and she keeps on talking about a big fire

Or friend, we want her to be well, but we do not know how to get her out of Hell

Or friend, she is acting all weird, and we wonder if she'd do good with some beer

 Here's another player-thingy, in case the one above doesn't work with your portable electronic device: