Words and Music @ 2000 by John Tabacco
Published by It Iz What It Iz Music (SESAC)
lyrics
THE PRIEST'S O.B.A.A.
The Priest :
It got so the older I felt, the angrier I felt and the spicier the
foods I’d eat. My life was turning into a negative mass of
unforgiving emptiness and disappointments. Nothing was
good enough. Nothing. I couldn’t even get a good triangle
sound using these imported silk pillows. The automatic act of
breathing was beginning to annoy me. If I could just shut
down for a moment. Just a few nanoseconds. Just a pico
second! Just enough time to recalibrate my life. Anything!
Things could change. I know they could change. I’d be able
to see things from a different angel..... angle!!! Bark!
And then last Tuesday after mass I noticed a large multi -
colored glowing bar of soap in the change basket.
It was carved in the shape of a crucifix.
Female Alien :
Hello Baby!
The Priest :
And so I thought to myself, “Hey if you could eat this, maybe I
could clean the world up from the inside out. Ha- Hah! Or at
least that’s what mamma used to believe (the old shrew). So
as if possessed, I grabbed the f i x and forced it down my
throat. This was no host picnic either mind you. At first the
wretched taste made me vomit and the gaging was very,
very, very uncomfortable but soon, soon I found myself rising
out of my disfigured, diseased three dimensional body and
high atop that leaky steeple I never got around to tape. True,
I was feeling lighter in spirit. Almost heroic!
Female Alien :
Hello Darlin’
The Priest :
But this was certainly unexpected. I mean nothing biblical
here. More like a cosmic wine tasting contest. Suddenly a
door number two opens up and I’m sucked in and greeted by
what looked like a cross between Moses and a Praying
Mantis. I didn’t like it! But he kissed my ring and produced out of thin air
a Smokey Lee Webster robe with liquidy gold tassels
floating in all directions. A real beaut. Not a cat’s
whisker on it. “M i n t ”, as the alter boy Phillup would
bark. And then he said onto me in a rather low mysterious
voice “v o n j o s e ” “vonjose”. What? Go figure.
Well, I just took that as a sign. (I was always taking
things in the church anyway..so what the hell?) I soon
became the robe and suddenly I felt a little like
Charlton Heston wrapped up in a million Cleopatras.
Ohh, new commandments, new commandments! And
all of a sudden I’m dissolving into some sort of dusty
rubber basement with religious shading. You know,
red candles and what not. Surrounded by these smiley
Indian looking road cones. Really weird! They just
stared at me with a demented look slowly vibrating an
inch off the ground, emmanating a kind of acceptance
that was all at once foreign, yet committed to sweet
adultery. No. I didn’t mean that. I mean I could fall for
it. No, that’s not it. I mean I couldn’t fall for it. That was
it! I wouldn’t fall for it! This rest in peace stuff was just
too stifling for me. I couldn’t deal with it. Visions of
Sister Teresa naked.
Female Alien :
Hello Baby!
The Priest :
Miniature Egyptian settings made of woolen legos.
White clouds of Downy™ clothes detergent commercials
whooshing before me like a Lionel train set of
electric peppermint patty rosaries and then - and then
B L A M ! The paramedics arrived. Now I’m awake
again in this wretched old body dribbling some awful
blood pudding stuff. And I’ve got these tubes in my
veins and a little old lady in the next door keeps
screaming “let me out, let me out, let me out, let me
out!” And it’s driving me crazy! Would someone
please tell her to shut off. Turn her off! My god, turn
her off! That throbbing...ahhhhh! ..
Hey doc, I need to...wha, wha, what’s up??? How come
you’re not wearing any clothes? Hey, what’s with the...
Where’s Phillup? I need to change for my next sermon. I
gotta get outta here! Hah, wha? Hey..why are you staring at
me with those big black eyes? Good lord your skin smells!
Wait a minute, you only have three fingers. That means devils!
I don’t like the size of that needle ya pullin’ out. Hey, wait
a minute doc. Where’s Phillup? Where’s my Phillup? Ahhh! I
don’t like the size of that... Ouch!... OUCH! I’m getting
dreepy... The Synclavier™... Oh I’m getting slippy...
Oh, oh my.
credits
from A Presbyter's Dementia,
released September 28, 2014
JT : Programming
L.Nacht : Guitar
Holly Miller : “Oh No” Vocal
In Adrian Snood’s songs, soulful vocals and slow-moving alt-pop swirl together to create something distinctly moving. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 1, 2023
