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Released in 1995, this is the debut album from Steven Goossen. The music can only be described as 'Cachunkity'. Recorded on a cassette four track recorder, Steve utilizes the 4 track as an additional instrument for this record.
I’m steppin’ on the gas I’m slumped across the wheel I’m talking to the girl Who’s got the liquid lips of steel The birds are in the cellar The sky is like the sea The road’s a crying river And the hood is all I see I cross the Rifle River I sleep benieth the trees I dream in gripping tension As I crawl along the leaves I drift beyond horizons My teeth are made of brass I’ll take your dreams through Spanish streets and sip them from a glass.
In the back of Bunky’s Pawnshop Lives a group of elves They dance around like locomotives In an Aztec spell Their eyes are like the Serengheti Their language sounds like rain And the blood that Makes their brain tick Pulses fever’s chain And they drove like drunken cabbies To the place they preyed And all the member elfen families Turned to one huge brain They turned the morning into crystal They turned the moon to flame I watched the magic Through the window And slowly went insane Now my friends and all my family Share the same cold room It feels good here, if I remember It’s something like the womb.
She did it over and over The Chinese water torture She sold it away And my hands felt heavy As they prayed for a last drink She smiled slyly As she tore my clothes away Filled me full of cat And raped me over and over and over again.
Biersdorf is greasy and Sleeps on a sawhorse A carpet of cornish hens He’s got boils on his elbows Peachfuzz on his nosehair His wife is a manaquin His neighbors eat gravel And live in a cellar Their dog can sing 'Kumbuya’ Their mailbox is empty They drink Ortho products The Boy Scouts are all on the nod The mailman is normal Wears sod on his helmet And rides on a horse with no legs His house is a sign post His feet are turned backward His breath smells of hardboiled eggs Smiley frowned As he took off his glasses For his eyes had turned into dimes He made for a phonebooth And put in his money Now it’s a seeing-eyed horn that tells lies.
Give a hungry man money for food He’ll buy himself a pint of wine Get some wheat in Toulouse Roll it on down the line The cobblestone streets are lit The sirens shrill through the night I’m gonna ride this engine, baby You know I’m gonna ride it right I’m leaving half a bottle of rum And 13 cigarettes One for each day of Christmas, baby And one in case you have a guest The fog enshrouded streets of Prague You can hear the tattle-taler cry My brother threw up in the poor box And spit on the statue’s eye.
Well the sinners always worry When a bottle’s on the floor And Saskatchewanian women Are hanging skulls above the door The lighthouse ruffles feathers As the sun begins to die And the cops are wearing tethers With a needle in their eye A toast to Graveyard Willie He’s the feather in your shirt And the wine the kids are drinking Rolls tuxedos in the dirt The tears all look like pillows To a pimple on the cheek And I’ll have the money for you Yeah, I promise in a week And the camera’s always willing As it serenades the moon And the conversation lingers With the screaming of a loon The bus stop has a mother She sells curtains to the dead As a lonely frail woman Screams inside an empty bed.
Every lie that you never tell I run from scars and dig this hole As I wait for the never rain I clutch these bars and feel so cold As I let myself get stressed I mess my head and cherish pain As I create this pathetic hell Gallows form from wishing wells Every fear of someone else Billows like a sea of hands And I pretend I never care Like armour made of blowing sand With the thought of nothing gained I’m stained and driving anywhere With every lie that you never tell Gallows form from wishing wells All these waves of fear I quell With fronts and silent misery And every day I think I’m clean It comes and slowly tortures me And all this spinning paranoid This void, this obscessive scheme Is just a self created hell Gallows formed from wishing wells.
The lunatic farm is closed They put us in the street We’re wandering through the road With slippers upon our feet The shivers are in our hands And mistletoe on our minds We’re all wearing wristbands You better be closing your blinds The lunatic farm is closed You better go tell your mom Look out for Babbling Rose Watch out for Creeping Tom The lunatic farm is closed The watchdog has gone to bed The lunatic farm is closed There’s smiles upon our heads.
He drove from Winnemucca Straight through Louisianna She swam up on the shore Forgetting her Havana The dark horse gets inside The pistons churn combustion Her dreams flow through the night The white coats reek corruption...
Unlevel table combo Crank the chain precision Full Cleveland in the shade Atoms in mass collision The light at Gore Bay stares Parched from endless sobbing Three rats for Katie (coyote) The pulse of hunger trobbing...
Temptation steals the prize The factions starved and bleeding Her teased and tortured eyes The soul devours feeling Percepted parallax The ballast tanks are flooding Branded upon our backs The years of blood still running....
Those phases wreck my mind Crush the old religion Wheels of production mate Keep in strict tradition The frozen mountains shift Spheres just make new limits The flags are falling down, These people buy the gimmicks.....
For all who feel this chain I think the bread is rising My fluids slowly drain The tailors quickly sizing Her moments slowly fade The dice of reason shaking Forgotten plans I’ve made The Children all awaken....
Turn into anything Whip the unaffected Outrun your headlights now Read the book dyslexic Stand up and take a bow Play a Spanish polka I’m gonna show you how to Talk like Abe Vigoda.
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