Noise Floor Delirium

MATILDA STOMP (NEW CHEMIROCHA BLUES)

Words & Music by Chris Gleason
Mule-in-a-Swamp Music (ASCAP)
© 2021

All vocals and instruments by Chris Gleason

Halt! Waltz!
Halt! Waltz!
Halt! Waltz!
Halt!
Whup!
Waltz!

Great Rift Valley
Wind-up gramophone
Six-string chepkong
Yellow-wood tree
Great Rift Valley
Sing to me, Chemirocha
You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.

Praise the lord and cover your eyes
One will be taken
and slaughtered inside
Down to the hospital
Blood for the military
You'll come a-waltzing Matilda, with me.

Halt! Matilda
Waltz! Matilda
Halt! Matilda
Whup!
Waltz!
Halt! Matilda
Waltz! Matilda
Halt! Matilda
Whup!
Waltz!

Why do they ask us to cover our eyes?
What are they hiding?
What do they eat?
Slow, nice music
Sing with me, Chemirocha
You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.

We danced and danced ‘til our pants fell off
Under the shade of a yellow-wood tree,
Danced until our pants fell off
You'll come a-waltzing Matilda, with me.

Halt! Matilda.
Waltz! Matilda.
Halt! Matilda.
Whup!
Waltz!
Halt! Matilda.
Waltz! Matilda.
Halt! Matilda.
Whup!
Waltz!

Halt! Blue Yodeler.
Waltz! Chemirocha.
Halt! Blue Yodeler
Whup!
Waltz!
Blue Yodeler. Halt!
Chemirocha. Waltz!
Blue Yodeler. Whup! Halt! Waltz!

THIS HOUSE ISN'T HAUNTED ANYMORE

Words & Music by Chris Gleason
Mule-in-a-Swamp Music (ASCAP)
© 2022

All vocals and instruments by Chris Gleason

Spook me without notice
Knock things to the ground
Make me feel abnormal
Want to get out of this town
Time for you to leave here
Let me show you to the door
This house isn’t haunted anymore

From the basement to the attic
Clockwise round each room
Burn white sage and sea salt
Ring the bell and get in tune
Time for you to leave here
Let me show you to the door
This house isn’t haunted anymore

Creepy little minuet
Quarter note times three
Stepping on the shadow
Of the man I used to be
Making graveyard music
Plans now obsolete
But obsolete is good enough
For me

Time for you to leave here
Let me show you to the door
This house isn’t haunted anymore

Time for you to leave here
Let me show you to the door
This house isn’t haunted anymore
This house isn’t haunted anymore
This house isn’t haunted anymore

MENDACIOUS ALIBI

Words & Music by Chris Gleason
Mule-in-a-Swamp Music (ASCAP)
© 2022

All vocals and instruments by Chris Gleason

Blue Locusts and dreams
Under the eaves
Under the eaves
Hovering

End of the line
Wait for a sign
Wait for a sign
Troubling

Blood Harmony
Sing ‘til you bleed
Sing ‘til you bleed
Unconsciously

Keep moving, please
Nothing to see
Nothing to see
It’s a lottery

Nearly the truth
Barely a lie
Mendacious Alibi

Barely the truth
Nearly a lie
Mendacious Alibi

Left ‘em for dead
Bullets and heads
Bullets and heads
He shot them through

Necessary ends
Family and friends
Family and friends
Passing you

Hear through your teeth
Bones underneath
Bones underneath
Talk to me

Keep moving, please
Nothing to see
Nothing to see
It’s a lottery

Nearly the truth
Barely a lie
Mendacious Alibi

Barely the truth
Nearly a lie
Mendacious Alibi

Down the end of the road
End of the road
End of the road
Passin’ through

End of the road
End of the road
End of the road
Shot ‘em through

End of the road
End of the road
End of the road
Passin’ through

End of the road
End of the road
End of the road
Shot ‘em through

MARSH MARIGOLDS

Words & Music by Chris Gleason
Mule-in-a-Swamp Music (ASCAP)
© 2022

All vocals and instruments by Chris Gleason

All our demons are near
Hell is empty this year
Always something to fear
Hell is empty this year

The boys called her Megaphone Rose
You can guess how this goes
Sun setting over the knoll
Over Marsh Marigolds

All our demons are near
Hell is empty this year
Always something to fear
Hell is empty this year

The birds in the trees are all spies
Mother Nature’s private eyes
Don’t you believe their lies
Birds in the trees are all spies

All of our demons are near
Hell is empty this year
Always something to fear
Hell is empty this year

Loved you now just let me be
Love in an emergency

Down where the river bends
Divided highway ends
Sun setting over the knoll
Over Marsh Marigolds
Over Marsh Marigolds
Over Marsh Marigolds
Over Marsh Marigolds

COMING APART

Words & Music by Chris Gleason
Mule-in-a-Swamp Music (ASCAP)
© 2022

Jimmy Ryan, Mandolin

All other instruments and vocals by Chris Gleason

I’ve been
Watching the screen
Followed the memes
Swallowed the feed

A click of the mouse
Can’t leave the house
What’s everybody else
Doing right now?

Coming apart
Yeah, coming apart
Tough end
Rough start
Can’t get it together
When we’re coming apart

Well, all of your doubts
They’re going south
Fear of missing out
Oh, shut your mouth

An android’s dream
This nouveau regime
Too young to have seen
The 20th century

Coming apart
Yeah, coming apart
Tough end
Rough start
Can’t get it together
When we’re coming apart

Tough End
Rough Start
Coming
Apart

Coming apart
Yeah, coming apart
Tough end
Rough start
Can’t get it together
When we’re coming apart

BACK-TALKING

Words & Music by Chris Gleason
Mule-in-a-Swamp Music (ASCAP)
© 2022

All vocals and instruments by Chris Gleason

Open your mouth
Let it out
Shutter the door
Who’s there anymore?

The cut of your face
Skeletal grace
Au Fait
Au Fait

You said I should
I said I would
Said I should
Said I would

Said I would
Said I would
But did I?

Not talking smack
Just talking back

BOTTOM OF THE SEA

Words & Music by Chris Gleason
Mule-in-a-Swamp Music (ASCAP)
© 2022

All vocals and instruments by Chris Gleason

Walked for miles on
Hairpin legs
Fading sunlight
Throwing shade

Followed the parade
And I got lost

Found myself alone
Out on the docks

Pain and fortune
Calling me
From somewhere
At the bottom of the sea

There is no map
There is no key
Only you know where it is

Jolly Roger
He’s unstrung
Chums the water
With his tongue

Followed the parade
And he got lost

Found himself alone
Out on the docks

So much blood and history
Drowned there
At the bottom of the sea

There is no map
There is no key
Only you know where it is

Davy Jones, he
Fled the Lord
Sailors threw him
Overboard

Followed the parade
And he got lost

Found himself alone
Out on the docks

In the belly
of the beast
Down there
At the bottom of the sea

There is no map
There is no key
Only you know where it is
Only you know where it is
Only know where it is

NINE-TAILED FOX

Words & Music by Chris Gleason
Mule-in-a-Swamp Music (ASCAP)
© 2022

All vocals and instruments by Chris Gleason

Butterflies and bees
Drape the ground like leaves
You can barely see the color of the sand

Venomous hound
Brought ‘em down
Now she haunts that killing stone

He split the rock
Let out the fox
Unleashed a demon and a friend

Or maybe she
Split naturally
Didn’t need a hand

Haunts that killing stone

A nine-tailed fox
Good and bad luck
Holding the weight of the world

Spirit in the stone
Changing form
Changing form

Split the stone
She’s coming home
Coming home

Haunts that killing stone
Haunts that killing stone
Haunts that killing stone
Haunts that killing stone

LUCK COMES LAST

Words & Music by Chris Gleason
Mule-in-a-Swamp Music (ASCAP)
© 2022

Vocals by Lucy Martinez

All instruments by Chris Gleason

It ain't wrong,
But it ain't right
Tryin' so hard
Not to try.

Pace the halls
Pay the rent
Raise a glass
Lose your sense

Thought that I
Could be content
Now I know...

Guess that we
Were like this song
We got all
The verses wrong

Now there's nothing
Left to chance
No ifs or buts
Or ampersands

Thought that I
Could be content
Now I know...

Maybe it’s time
To stem the bleed
To close our eyes,
And call it sleep

Maybe it’s time
To leave the path
To push our luck
But luck comes last

Thought that I
Thought that I
Thought that I

Maybe it’s time
To stem the bleed
To close our eyes,
And call it sleep

Maybe it’s time
To leave the path
To push our luck
But luck comes last

Thought that I
Could be content
Now I know…

CREEPSHOW

Words & Music by Chris Gleason
Mule-in-a-Swamp Music (ASCAP)
© 2017

Demagogues
Red States
Red flags
Blue Plates
Denigrator
Generator
Democratic
Detonator

Make it great again,
Or make it whole
Blood moon rising
Tide’s gonna ebb and flow
Sorry, Charlie
Sorry, I can't roll
With your creepshow

Happy face
Sans meat
Dull knife
Skin deep
Couch Lock
Can't sleep
Adderall
Can't weep

Lightbulb Harry
Leave ya with an afterglow
Blood moon rising
Tide’s gonna ebb and flow
Lightbulb Harry
Leave ya with an afterglow
Cause he’s a creepshow

Some things you'd rather not know

You make a fine target, Pilgrim
Empty your hands
Same dumb pilgrim
I've been smellin since I don't know when
Skin it, Pilgrim
Looks like you’re ready to roll
With that creepshow

Some things you'd rather not know

Chris Gleason – vocals, tenor banjo, slide guitar, bass, anvil

Lucy Martinez – vocals

Jakub Trasak – fiddle

John Chapman – drums

WINTERMOTHS

Words & Music by Chris Gleason
Mule-in-a-Swamp Music (ASCAP)
© 2017

How can I miss you, if you don’t leave?
How can I choke you — if you won’t breathe?
How can I smoke without a light?
Wake in the morning—without last night?
How did we get here from there?

The winter moths are in the trees
Making resolutions to feed on springtime leaves
Defoliators—drawn to sex and light
It’s best to keep the porch lamp off at night
‘Tis the season to despair

Your pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty please
It’s such a pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty tease
Like trying to win
At chess without checkmate
Or listen to a Beatles song without the middle eight

What keeps you coming back for more?
Instead of walking out the door?
One foot on the driveway, the other in the car
You wouldn’t make it very far
I guess that life just ain’t fair

Is this the bed that we have made?
Can’t tell if I’m the master or the slave
Can’t stand up and be counted with my
Head in the sand
Or make it to the encore without beating up the band

What keeps me coming back for more?
Instead of walking out the door?
One foot on the driveway, the other in the car
I wouldn’t make it very far

Guess that life just ain’t fair

Chris Gleason – vocals, tenor banjo and guitar, bass

Lucy Martinez – vocals

Jakub Trasak – fiddle

Jimmy Ryan – mandolin

John Chapman – drums

FRY MY EGGS

Wanna live ‘fore I’m deceased, I’ll fry my eggs in bacon grease

Oh, Satan.
Show me your hand.
No, Satan.
Haven’t seen Rockets nor a paired Rembrandt.
Haven’t seen Rockets nor a paired Rembrandt.

Omaha Hi-Low.
Whiskey by the shot.
Omaha Hi-Low.
Wheel splits the low and a Flush wins the pot.
Wheel splits the low and a Flush wins the pot.

Oh, Satan.
Got no pedigree.
No, Satan.
Charlemagne trumps a Bedpost Queen.
Charlemagne trumps a Bedpost Queen.

Walk back to Houston,
Back from wence you came.
Walk back to Houston.
Find yourself another game.
Find yourself another game.

Oh, Satan.
The sun’s still in the East.
Go, Satan.
Fry my eggs in bacon grease
Fry my eggs in bacon grease.

Chris Gleason – vocals, electric 5-string mandolin, electric guitar, bass

Lucy Martinez – vocals

Jakub Trasak – fiddle

John Chapman – drums

COTTON MILL COLIC

Words & Music by Dave McCarn (1926)
Peer International Corp

Well you go to work
Slave like the devil
End of the week, you ain't on the level
Payday comes
You pay the rent
End of the month you’re still in the red
When you go to bed
You can't sleep
Owe so much at the end of the week

If I don’t starve
Nobody will
Can’t make a living at the ol' sawmill
Can’t complain
We’re all that way
Can’t make the money to move away
Can’t make the money to move away

Well, the poor stay poor
Rich get richer
APRs are a sonovabitch
You got taxes to the left
Fees to the right
Cost of living it’s outtasite
When you go to bed
You can't sleep
Owe so much at the end of the week

If I don’t starve
Nobody will
Just keep payin’ that credit card bill
No use to colic
We're all that way
Keep payin’ til we’re in our grave
Keep on payin’ til we’re in our grave

If I don’t starve
Nobody will
Can’t make a living at the ol' sawmill
Can’t complain
We’re all that way
Can’t make the money to move away
Can’t make the money to move away

Chris Gleason – vocals, mandolin, bass, Cajun triangle

Lucy Martinez – vocals

Jakub Trasak – fiddle

John Chapman – drums

THIS WORLD OR THE NEXT

Whiskey in the hand of one man
Whiskey in the hand of one man
Whiskey in the hand of one man
Anything pleasure is a sin

Woman in the arms of one man
Woman in the arms of one man
Woman in the arms of one man
Anything pleasure is a sin

Bible in the hand of one man
Bible in the hand of one man
Bible in the hand of one man
He's waiting for the next world to begin

He never learned to live in this world
Never learned to live in this world
Never learned to live in this world
It's a sin
It's a sin
It's a sin
It's a sin

Chris Gleason – vocals, electric tenor and 6-string guitars, bass, electric mandocello

Lucy Martinez – vocals

Jakub Trasak – fiddle

John Chapman – drums

Bruce Bartone – additional electric guitar

THE BITTER END

You hear what I'm thinking
I don't have to speak.
This is how life should be, but it's not.

Torito en la Jaula,
Capo different keys,
Clever accidents and ellipses.

Just stepped off the stage
Still more acts to play
We don't have to stay
'Til the bitter end.

Cool on the outside
Inside burning hot
Wondering who's there to back you up.

So hard to balance
What we say and do.
I will always find the time for you.

Know you're afraid
To leave the bed you made
I'm holding on 'til the bitter end.

All them daily words
We're just like stray birds
All them daily words

Know you're afraid
To try a different way.
You're holding on to the bitter end.

The bitter end
The bitter end
The bitter end

Chris Gleason – vocals, acoustic guitar

Lucy Martinez – vocals

Jakub Trasak – fiddle

John Chapman – drums

Bruce Bartone – electric guitars, eBow, and organ

Shamus Feeney – bass

STILL AROUND

Saw you walking in your sleep
Gaslight politics
Lather, Rinse, Repeat
Saw you talking to the sheep
Coalitions
Indiscreet

Like a fat tick on a hound
Wears a Leonard Cohen frown
And though the leaves have all turned brown
You’re still around

You’re still around
You’re still around
You’re still around

Met her at the winter ball
Fed her jewels and alcohol
Flies around the chandelier
Tinfoil hats as souvenirs
No, she hardly made a sound
In that million-dollar gown
And though the circus has left town
You’re still around

You’re still around
You’re still around
You’re still around

Such mendacious alibis
Stole my dirty laundry, though it’s half your size
It’s a fantasy at best
To imagine that you ever would confess
Half a king, half a clown
With a much-disputed crown
Just can’t make it in this town
When you’re still around

You’re still around
You’re still around
You’re still around

Chris Gleason – vocals, rhythm mandolin,electric guitars, bass, Mellotron

Jimmy Ryan – mandolin solo

Lucy Martinez – vocals

Jakub Trasak – fiddle

John Chapman – drums