Who can take a misty raindrop

Shovel in some bovine stool

Tickle-me chords on the piano

Blow it out yer didgeridoo

Accidentally occidental

Can ya cover up the king of the jews 

Please!

Welcome to pancakes for the ingrates

Would you lend me your attention

Divide it into left and right

Did you think this would last forever

It will if we just keep up the fight

Fry ‘em up in every color, 

Of beige and pink and white 

Yum!

All shades of pancakes for the ingrates

And the people cried 

Hold me hold me rock me till sun rise 

Rock me till supper even

Lookit here folks nothing to see go back home 

Go home!

See me, love me, save me, lookit I’m dyin’ here 

I’m DYYYYYYYIN’!

Join them singing

Show me show me  Know me know me 

Hold me in your gaze

Scold me scold me Told me told me

Thou wert the only way

Where are all my friends and family

Little sister done chased ‘em away

Whun it ‘posed to be big bruddha 

Little sister blew big brother away

Oh wow  ain’t that a bitch sir

Why Yessir she certainly is

Still this guy’s got pancakes for the ingrates

A nameless tree grows in the desert

Nary a soul in sight

Pray for rain, pray for rainbows

The storm is passing over tonight

Mangos kiwis bananas, sing it till ya get it tight 

Kiwi, kiwi, kiwi

Roll up those pancakes with the ingrates 

And the people sang 

Hallelujah, Hare Krishna 

Krishna Rama baby

Holy Holy Holy

Holy Shit

Holy mother fucking shit!

All is sacred, all is sleazy it’s just that easy    

Sleazy pleazey

Show me show me , know me know me 

Hold me in your gaze

Scold me scold me, ya told me told me

Thou wert the only way

And then, just when all hope was lost, a parade of monks arrived

Heralding a brand new day

Turning our pills into skills, and our pancakes into panache

Placentae ad ingrati  

Placentas ingrati

Amantes sunt amentes   

Lovers are crazy

Lovers are lunatics

Some folks don’t know how good they got it

Surely you don’t mean me

Sold their oranges for sleazy pancakes

Sniffed ‘em in our olfactory 

Ten thousand hours of ther’py

In a single night of cakes and syr’py

Three cheers for pancakes and the ingrates

Hip Hip Hooray hooray hooray

Hip hip hooray hooray hooray

No Thanks for the Cakes!

Have no illusions. We came to LOCK IT IN!!!

Just a couple of mini moogs from the 70s and a reverb from the 80s.

A song inspired by Part-X from Phil Stutz’ and Barry Michel’s book, Coming Alive. And also inspired by The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. And also inspired by a Rolling Stones song. Hope you guessed its name. There were 3 previous scratch versions of this song as part of the static method process, and one of them is called Bloodstained Photo.

the enemy

these cold and wrung out ears

turned down the sound

quietened the outside places

hiding under all that noise

i found a voice

familiar as a mirror of faces

why you even trying, kid

are you fit? are you shit?    

all those years I swallowed every lie 

that hides behind the half truths

i’ll guess your name  

it is not mine 

hear that sound again

it’s not the truth

i’m telling you it’s not me

it’s all around me now

communication from the enemy

hollowed out by the shame and fear

a womb appears

protect me from the hostile places

might I wander out doors (seeking more?)

I stagger back 

defeated by a legion of mazes

take it easy here, child

water’s mild as a lull-a-bye

i can’t-abide your plan to hide the

stillborn melodies that die inside me

but i’ll guess your name

it is not mine

yes, i’ll guess your name

It is not mine

hear that sound again

it’s not the truth

i’m telling you it’s not  me

it’s all around me now

consolation from the enemy  

here’s that sound again

it’s not the truth

i’m telling you it’s not me

it’s all around me now

devastation from the enemy

no path is safe or clear

stay in my lane or should I veer

took an unfamiliar turn

are we there yet? 

                 why aren’t we there yet?

how long till I learn

satisfaction guaranteed 

set for life, your ease decreed 

you drug me like a slave to my grave

so I leave it all in a flood of my blood on the stage

but I’ll guess your name…

and it is  not mine

yes I’ll guess your name

and it is not mine

I GUESSED YOUR NAME NOW

and it is not mine

is not mine

is not mine 

is not mine

is not mine

here’s that sound again

it’s not the truth

i’m telling you that it’s not me

it’s all around me now

accusation from the enemy

don’t fear that sound again

it’s not the whole truth

no it’s not it’s the real me

yeah it’s all around me now

annihilation with the enemy

come hear that sound again 

it’s not the truth

i’m telling you that it’s not me

it’s all around me now

education from the enemy

This is the first Neon Belly Records song release of my new fantasy band, Pancakes for Ingrates (which will get its own website when the first album is complete). It is also the very first bit of music to come out of the entire Static Method process consisting of 5 rituals. It proves that I can make album ready rock throughout the day, any time of day even while working a demanding 50 hour per week day job as a psychotherapist. Many of us have such songs locked up inside us. The Static Method unchains the melody.

You can trace music on this site throughout the static-method process. For example this song, Jangle, started out as a Groove… during Ritual 1. Then it progressed into becoming a Scratch Song in Ritual 2. It finally progresses to rituals 3, 4, and 5 which transform it into a radio-ready song.

Jangle

She’s got a sound that she makes when she walks through the front porch door

And she laughs in the face of darkness when she parks it on the market floor

I’ve got a feeling that she just might turn

A steeling that you’ve got to earn

Try it so you might discern a signal on the chain

Well it’s hard to explain

Just allow a man to cuss and complain

There’s a crack in my back

And I hope that you can give it some slack

Yeah

He’s got a burden for Churchill a regular OFG

And he won’t abide all the lies and he sure as hell won’t bend the knee

I’ve got a feeling that it’s gonna burn

All the cheaters are about to learn

A fetus in the fern confirms the jangle on the chain

Well it’s hard to explain

And if I do I might just cuss and complain

There’s a crack down my back

But you don’t have to give me no slack

Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah

We got a tangle the signal is a jangle

Help me find my way home

Well it’s hard. To Explain. Won’t you ‘low a man to Cuss ‘n Complain?

Don’t listen to this. Move directly to the finished mix down on Jangle by Neon Belly.