Itchy/Tasty

My band's newest song. Lyrics by myself. Enjoy.


"Itchy/Tasty"

Oh God!
Why is there bacon on this sandwich?!
Nobody takes pictures of goats anymore.
I wash my hands with boxes of bleach.
Moss doesn't grow on the southside of trees because property values are so low!

Honey, are you cooking diapers?
Honey, those had better be low-carb.
Honey, does it annoy you that I keep calling you HONEY?!
I think I'll take a bath with the dogs.

My uterus!
Strawberry Shortcake bakes cakes and does the nasty for money.
Tamarind-flavored candy is scraped from Satan's taintstrip.
What are you gonna do next? THE CALCUTTA?
It is actually HURTING MY BRAIN to sing this song.

Crab-based pants are just too itchy.
Pant-based crabs are so damned tasty.

Itchy, tasty, itchy, tasty, itchy, tasty, itchy, tasty.

Y-O-R!
Muddy Bears!
Worms.

I'd really like to hear the actual song. The lyrics are so um, abstract its hard to envision the music.

It's hard to sing. I didn't write this with any tempo or pacing in mind, I just wrote down a bunch of nonsense. Trying to force a rythm out of gobbledygook is a lot tougher than you'd think.

You could try it in a walzty type of style, or a quick 6/8. If all else fails try some kind of obscure compound time.

There's an obscure compound time that works for everything.

I swear that sounds like SoaD lyrics.

And by that I mean the complete insanity of it all... I love SoaD...

Keep up the kickassness!

PS: SoaD is System of a Down to all you losers... and British people too.

We've got SoaD over here. I know what it means, don't worry...

Everybody is pretty much aware of who SoaD is. They're not an underground band by any means.

You could try it in a walzty type of style, or a quick 6/8. If all else fails try some kind of obscure compound time. There's an obscure compound time that works for everything.

Oh no, we've already got the song down. I found the rythm, it was just extremely difficult. It's tough to remember too, so I have to be constantly running the song through my head to get the pacing memorized.

I don't really like it, honestly. Then again I don't like any of the music you like, so my input isn't ... helpful.

Ah, OK.

Out of interest what is the rhythm that goes with this? I'd be quite interested to hear it.

I honestly don't know. It's a fairly basic beat, it just requires me to structure the words in a particularly strange way.

Now that'll be something to hear...have you got a recording of it anywhere? If not, how long before we can hear it do you think?

I'm gonna have to agree with Grav here. That made 0 sense to me. It lacks something...

It's not supposed to make sense. That's the whole point.

I wash my hands with boxes of bleach.

The Machinist.

Correct. Actually, all but the lines "Nobody takes pictures of goats anymore", and "Moss doesn't grow..." are references to something else in some fashion. I've been considering replacing those two lines so that the whole song is one big inside reference. The only problem is that I really like the "moss" line, and I don't want to get rid of it.

I take pictures of goats still...but then again I do have two goats...so...what exactly are the different references?

Inside jokes, mostly. The only ones that would be generally-recognized references would be the Machinist reference and the "Honey, are you cooking diapers?" line. That one comes from the Brak Show, on Adult Swim.

Weirdest fucking lyrics ever. Yet strangely interesting. I definitly want to hear what that sounds like.

Well, this is just weird as fuck. Oh well. I'm sure when I can hear it actually, it'll be as good as Placenta Erotica.

Your ideas on songs seem to have...gone a bit more comical or perhaps, bizarre. I dunno.

Placenta Erotica is no longer named that. The title is "Dischordia" now.

And yeah, my song ideas have been getting weirder as of late. It's just the stuff I'm interested in writing these days. I'm not into penning songs about hate, angst, sadness, etc. I prefer to write about stuff that interests me, and if a stripper giving birth on stage tickles my fancy, then dammit, a song is getting written about it.