Oskar H Kokoschka (and other untimely mistakes)

by Pointless Account & Frogspawn

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about

Lo-fi ridiculousness, philosophy and sheer virtuosity in every direction. Pointless Account eviscerated the lyrics on day 1. Frogspawn decomposed the music and lo-fi recorded the songs on day 2.
A compendium from February Album Writing Month, February 2017 (fawm.org), which debuted in March 2017, just for the sense of confusion.

credits

released March 31, 2017

Lyrics by and Copyright © 2017 Stephen Wort aka Stephen Wordsmith
Music by and Copyright © 2017 TJ Fatchen. Performed by Tim Fatchen.
All Rights Reserved. APRA-AMCOS

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license

all rights reserved

about

Pointless Frogspawn Adelaide, Australia

Pointless Frogspawn is a combination of Pointless Account and Frogspawn, malefactors on February Album Writing Month who bend time and space to win a pointless trophy with strange lyrics and stranger music and song.

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Track Name: Kokoschka
I am a timely traveller
It's true, I am no saint
I went back to the time of Hitler
Met the struggling artist Hitler
But I did not murder Hitler
Instead I taught him how to paint

And so, the artist Adolf
Imbued with all my knowledge
Became no lauded politician
(And when I say politician
I mean tyrant, not politician)
Instead he conquered his Art College

Thus, Oskar H Kokoschka
Rejected in his place
Became no great impressionist
Instead, left his impression as
The leader of a most impressive
White and mighty Aryan race.

Oops.
Track Name: Smoke Alarm
Oh, Smoke Alarm, Oh smoke alarm
You stem your credibility
You've claimed for eight whole months now
That your batteries need replacing
But all that time you've beeped to
All the best of your ability
My head forever pounding, and
My heart forever racing

My neighbours come to see me
And say 'It's been sixteen fortnights -
Don't you think it's time to take some action
And put out the fire?'
My neighbours, heaven bless them
Are so eth-i-cal-ly forthright
But I'll tend to my own housework
When I jolly well desire

And, at last, it got unbearable
I said to myself 'Criminy!'
And picked the sodding fire up
With a pair of pruning gloves
And stuffed it rather tidily
Within my sooty chimney
And that, Saint Peter, 's how I died
Alleluia, God is love.
Track Name: Mars
The three intrepid cosmonauts -
Brian, Mike and Lars
Placed one small foot for humankind
Upon the sands of Mars

They surveyed every crimson plain
Each scarlet vale and Crag
They saw a dusty wilderness
And one old dusty flag

'My God', said Brian, 'isn't this
An existential pickle?
The flag's as red as bloody Mars
With hammers and a sickle!'

And like the dusky planeta
It dawned upon their face
The States had came in second-best
The Russians won the race!

But why had they not said a thing?
And who's there left to trust?
The three of them just turned around
And flew home in disgust

And so thus ends the story
Of our Brian, Lars and Mike
And deep within Andromeda
Some prankster giggled 'Psyche!'
Track Name: The Last Smoker
The year is 2040
I'm the last smoker alive
My lungs, I'll have you know, suffice
For the odd jump and jive

I wander past bus shelters
Their tidings be not glad
At my full height, lit up in white -
An anti-smoking ad

I cannot help but take it
Rather personally, this time
For all its self-destructiveness
My passion is no crime

In one act of defiance
I light my cancer stick
Then some guy beats me half to death
Humanity are pricks.
Track Name: The Guardian
In the eyes of my Dog
I'm nigh-on immortal
A celestial guardian
Stepped through a portal

Caretaker of Fido,
Of Trusty and Rover
Six more generations
Of Family Over

But Fido, he senses that
Something is wrong
This swan of all ages
Will soon sing its song

His amber eyes widened
He didn't know why -
This constant, his craving
How could he just die?

My face becomes ashen
My eyes become white
And Fido, the faithful
Returns
To eating
His own shite.
Track Name: A Chess Piece
In the park
Before dark
I met two men
Playing chess
Heaven bless
In the shaded glen

And one could see man's future
And one could see his thoughts

Very few
Cared to view
The scene not great
Not a piece
Was released
In this stalemate

For one could see man's future
And one could see his thoughts

How annoying -
A clairvoyant
So each piece held steady
No surprise
In his eyes
For he knew that already

As he could see man's future
His foe could see his thoughts

'Enough' I cried as loudly
As my own lungs were able
'What foolishness!' I uttered
And boldly flipped the table

I looked upon the faces
Of those who I'd disturbed
The right was somewhat piteous
The left was unperturbed

'I knew you'd do that' he exclaimed
And knelt down in the silt
To calmly pick the pieces up
The right just saw my guilt.

Dunno how
Even now
Those two great men
Could like chess
More or less
In the shaded glen

For one could see man's future
And one could see his thoughts
Track Name: On Pants
I wipe my hands
Upon my pants
To clean my hands

I wipe my hands
Upon my pants
To clean my pants

I wipe my hands
Upon my pants
To clean my hands

I wipe my hands
Upon my pants
To clean my pants

Along came a man
(His name was Michael)
'What, ho!' he cried
'That's a vicious cycle -

My suggestion to you
For next time, if you'd like'll
Be to wash them in a machine
Made by Fisher and Paykell'.

I wipe my hands
Upon my pants
To clean my hands

I wipe my hands
Upon my pants
To clean my pants

And Michael
Can go eat himself.
Track Name: Long Live the Queen
One day
As I stood
In Buckingham palace

The devil
Appeared
With a towering phallus

He whispered
In my Taringa
(That's Maori
Rhymes with Bar Singer... kind of)

'The secret
of longevity
For she who is
Prince Phillip's wife?

Each time they say
'Long live the queen'
It adds ten minutes
To her life'

One day
As I stood
In Buckingham palace

The devil
Left off
In a puff of great malice

I wondered
What would be the best
Approach
To put this to the test

I cleared my lungs
And bellow-ed
'Drop dead the Queen!'
She promptly did

And all the soldiers
Heard my voice
I started to
Regret my choice

And that's why I'm
On trial for treason
(I must admit
Not shy of reason).
Track Name: Absolut Rubbish
One night, while off my bosoms
Oh my starry-livered soul
I poured a fifth of vodka
In my Goldfish (Nigel)'s bowl

It lapped up all the liquid
Like an alcoholic gruel
And lost enough sobriety
To break that cardinal rule

That's drilled into each animal
So they'll never forget:
Don't talk unto your owner
If you are your owner's pet!

'Hey, owner!' said the Goldfish
'Time we had a chat' he reckoned
'Hey owner!' he repeated
For his mem'ry's seven seconds

'Hey owner' said the Goldfish
I departed with a cough
And sat down and did a crossword
Til the vodka had worn off.
Track Name: Trelia
They call me Trelia
I am loved
By all my people
For I am a healer

But I'm unworthy
As I do not
Truly heal wounds
Just transfer them

And in the valley below
I am hated
By the people
They call me Trelia

But also Trel, the deathly throe
Track Name: The Shooting Star Registry
Good gracious
Yes, my name is Lars
I work here at the registry
Of wishes
Made on shooting stars

Where each
Entreaty is recorded
Here among the registry
It's just what the
Wish doctor ordered

And deep within our catalogue
A little boy named Jase
Has wished health on his father
I'm assigned now to his case

I read his gentle case file
With a tremble to my hand
Although the spelling's awful
All the sentiment is grand

I take one sip of coffee
It's needed to feel better
And start the daily mission
Of replying to the letter

Dear Master Smith, I start with,
We apologise with grace
Regret your father's ill health
And within ten working days

We'll send him antibodies
And a latent cancer cure
Sincerely, Lars, ex-cosmonaut
He'll soon be good and pure

Then added as a postscript
It has come to my attention
He's been dead ten years to cancer
Please send no further intentions.

And so, I click the button
One great smile upon my gob
I love to help the needy, yes
That's why I love this job

Which bastard said bureaucracy's
An inefficient thing?
I lean back at my comfy desk
My heart begins to sing

Good gracious
Yes, my name is Lars
I work here at the registry
Of wishes
Made on shooting stars

Where each
Entreaty is recorded
Here among the registry
It's just what the
Wish doctor ordered
Track Name: Twelfth
This is my twelve-th effort
And friends, you should be glad
There's ten thousand songs out there
And not one is this bad
Track Name: Universal
One night, as my carpet
I struggled to hoover
The aliens landed
Somewhere in Vancouver

'You're healthcare is universal -
we've a bleeder!
His lifeforce is leaking
Take us to your leader!'

I stand with my fingers
Pressed firm on my jeans
This isn't what
'Universal healthcare' means

Dunno where they came from
And dunno what wrecked 'em
But, hell, I'm Canuck
Too polite to correct 'em

Eh?
Track Name: A Frankly Terrible Finish
See the olympic diver
In panic in the loo
He's trouble passing water
But none in breaking through

Perhaps he'll be a legend
His story ever told
For now, he pulls his fly down
And prays once more for gold