Noises

T.C. Folkpunk

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the T.C. Folkpunk album "Hearsay is 20/20".

Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

Easter time fourteen, wonder where she's been,
Hiding so long, now hooked with a song,
Tiger damselfish, granting you a wish,
Sharing a sign, birthdays aligned,

Ingenue emeritus,
On your mark, get set, discuss,
Ingenue emeritus,
No one understands the fuss,

Returning to the scene, after 3:19,
Day sixty-nine, erasing a line,
Red dress comes alive, to Beatles '65,
Here in this place, your new state of grace,

Ingenue emeritus,
On your mark, get set, discuss,
Ingenue emeritus,
No one understands the fuss,

Now nobody, holds a candle,
To the torch you carry to the game,
Cross your heart and, hope to dilate,
Both her pupils till she feels the same,

T-shirt dancing squad, fancy footwork flawed,
Meanwhile in back, the girls get the knack,
Forward three more days, fireworks and haze,
Take after take, in bed wide awake,

Ingenue emeritus,
On your mark, get set, discuss,
Ingenue emeritus,
No one understands the fuss,

 

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Hearsay Is 20/20".

Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

Now he's looking for someone,
Sort of Danielle, as near as he can tell,
Though he's looking for someone,
He sort of likes Danielle as well.

Picture up on a scene at a party,
Cameras rolling and fate's controlling the script,
Ochre walls punctuated with paintings,
Two old masters of love's disasters lock lips,
But meanwhile,
Back in reality he's juggling the shards and the fragments of whatever,
Make up his current frame of life.

Now he's looking for someone,
Sort of Danielle, as near as he can tell,
Though he's looking for someone,
He sort of likes Danielle as well.

In the wake of a Saturday sunset,
Hugs are tendered till he surrendered within,
Call to action, reciting a wish list,
Realizing the one she's prizing is him,
But meanwhile,
Trapped in a bubble where the air is now as thin as his patience he's decided,
To break the surface tension soon.

Now he's looking for someone,
Sort of Danielle, as near as he can tell,
Though he's looking for someone,
He sort of likes Danielle as well,
Sort of like Danielle as well,
Thinkin' 'bout Danielle as well.

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Hearsay Is 20/20".

Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

Was it wrong to have perceived a spark? 
And being so much in the dark, 
Would any light appear to be a beacon? 
And if someone thinks the world of you, 
In the face of nothing new, 
No surprise if one's resolve is… 
 Weekend and weekdays go by in a crawl, 
 A private general malaise, 
 Until you trip and you properly fall, 
 Ending a year of a month of Sundays. 

The world of you, the world of you, 
I think I think the world of you, 
I see no fault in my world view, 
If my world is the world of you. 

You can pour the past out of your pen, 
Turn the page and start again, 
Writing till the wrongs are long forgotten, 
So you're beautiful and sharp and drawn, 
To romantic marathons, 
Running on while exercising… 
 Caution gets thrown to the wind and wolves, 
 The heart out-foxes the brain, 
 Hunting the half that could fill the hole, 
 Building up something from pieces of pain. 

The world of you, the world of you, 
I think I think the world of you, 
I see no fault in my world view, 
If my world is the world of you. 

The world of you, the world of you, 
I think I think the world of you, 
I see no fault in my world view, 
If my world is the world of you. 

If my world is the world of you, 

Now my world is the world of...

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Hearsay is 20/20".

Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

It's her! It's her! It's her! 

Well that was unexpected: 
To see yourself reflected in 
Someone you chance-encountered 
Someone who's now amounted to, 
Only everything you're burning for, 
You wax poetic as you're melted to the core. 

It's her! It's her! It's her! 

You don't know what you're missing, 
Until it ends up kissing you, 
With lips that steam wide open, 
Some secret you were hoping to 
Keep inside of you at any cost, 
But now your confidentiality is lost. 

It's her! It's her! It's her! 

It's her, 
End your search, 
You came, you saw, you concurred, 
It's her, 

And now you try to write her, 
Amourous diatribal things, 
Good luck articulating, 
The twisting of this mating game, 
It's monopolized your every thought, 
You string yourself along and tie yourself in knots. 

It's her! It's her! It's her! 

It's her! It's her! It's her!

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Hearsay is 20/20".

Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

She's something like a poem, 
But it seems nobody else has yet desired, 
To give eternal words, 
To a smile that at the very least requires, 
Couplets or a stanza or a verse, 
To do her restless beauty all the justice it deserves, 

She's something like a poem, 
You could read repeatedly for inspiration, 
And memorize each line, 
And curve and movement in captivation, 
Lyrics that you know will never cease, 
On the way to shaping a handwritten masterpiece, 

 And when she's novelized, 
 And you only want to get between her covers, 
 Haiku d'etat prevails, 
 As you overthrow and overwrite past lovers, 
 Bind her to your arbitrary self, 
 Bookend her with other mysteries on your top shelf, 

She's something like a poem, 
That will make you laugh when you least expect it, 
Absorbing every phrase, 
From a manuscript someone else rejected, 
Quoting her to yourself late at night, 
Solitary sonnets as your only source of light.

(T.Cameron)

Story

From the album "Hearsay Is 20/20".

Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

He could, if just given half a chance, 
She would, but she's been ruined by romance, 
They should, because life is short and pointless anyway. 

He could give up everything just to wake up next to her, 
And he could hold her 'til a chemical sunset takes the earth, 
And he could be her final love, 
For all his time that's left above 
The ground. 

He could, if just given half a chance, 
She would, but she's been ruined by romance, 
They should, because life is short and pointless anyway. 

She would be the first to freely admit her wings were clipped, 
Masking the pain with some self-deprecating quip, 
Her imperfections won't be marred, 
And she won't let down her guard 
Too far, 

He could, if just given half a chance, 
She would, but she's been ruined by romance, 
They should, because life is short and pointless anyway. 

Reeling from reality, 
Frame to frame finality, 
To be screening all the options, 
Exhausting his exhaustion, 
From tiff to riff and back to tiff again. 

They should bury all the rules and just live for what is left, 
And each stolen kiss becomes a justifiable theft, 
They might as well with all their might, 
Seize both the day and night, 
They've already paid their dues, 
To past unions, now they're free 
To choose. 

He could, if just given half a chance, 
She would, but she's been ruined by romance, 
They should, because life is short and pointless anyway. 

Anyway, 
Anyway, 
Anyway...

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the T.C. Folkpunk album "Hearsay is 20/20".

Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

Baby come on out, and open up your garage door,
I said hey come on out, and open up your garage door,
I just want to park my bus in there,
Don't care about its pink slips anymore,

Well I'd make you some coffee but I can't get this spoon in the jar,
Yes I'd make you some coffee but I can't get this spoon in the jar,
The kettle's boilin' over baby the
Sugar is twinklin' like the stars,

Well I tried to wrap your birthday present, I couldn't fit it in the box,
Yes I tried to wrap your birthday present, I couldn't fit it in the box,
I crawled down to the liquor store,
And left your present in dry dock,

Well I tried and I tried but this here umbrella just won't give,
Yes I tried and I tried but this here umbrella just won't give,
If you ceiling keeps on leakin' baby,
I can't keep my umbrella hid,

Well I dreamed about you Tuesday night, come Wednesday it didn't make sense,
Yes I dreamed about you Tuesday night, Wednesday it didn't make no sense,
Well I'd lie down on the couch and tell you,
But my pockets feel so tense,

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Hearsay Is 20/20".

Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

Maybe he's crazy, maybe he's coming undone, 
Maybe he's crazy, now he's gone and hurt a certain one. 

An anaesthetic administered locally, 
And went straight to his mouth 'til his tongue mutinied, 
And lashed the one he'd sworn himself to guard, 
A careless verbal dagger struck the softest place so hard. 

Maybe he's crazy, maybe he's coming undone, 
Maybe he's crazy, now he's gone and hurt a certain one 

A darkened phantom from reckless youth had returned, 
And took control until one more bridge had been burned, 
And by the time he saw the smouldering heap, 
He wished he could rebuild it so he'd have somewhere to leap. 

Maybe he's crazy, maybe he's coming undone, 
Maybe he's crazy, now he's gone and hurt a certain one 

Now in the bathroom he's quietly locked the door, 
And leans against the wall 'til he slides to the floor, 
And there he sobs in silence and regret, 
While offering up anything to save whatever's left. 

Maybe he's crazy, maybe he's coming undone, 
Maybe he's crazy, now he's gone and hurt a certain one, 

Maybe he's crazy, crazy is as crazy does, 
Maybe he's crazy, now he's hurt someone he loves.

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the T.C. Folkpunk album "Hearsay is 20/20".

Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

This antique shop is filled with bicycles,
This pen's the only thing that kills the dull,
And you're two hundred miles north by north west,
Whether you miss me is anyone's guess,
    I stare at the glass, try to make it last,
    The temptation's great to inhale a crate
    A night off the town in a town melting down.

Between the screens and the Tiffany lamps,
The background muzak: gypsies, thieves and tramps,
The room's deserted this side of the bar,
A sombre setting for tonight's memoir,
    Are you under the sky on a beach standing by,
    For the whole Milky Way to come out on display?
    A night off the town in a town melting down,

        The days we're separated,
        Play at half speed, I've waited,
        Too many years this weekend,
        While draining ink from this pen,

And so at 2 A.M. I've been excused,
From this excuse for a night on the loose,
I'm loaded just enough to go off half cocked,
The final chapter an empty sidewalk,
    And home to a cage where I stay up and pace,
    And lift one more drink in your direction I think,
    A night off the town in a town melting down.

from the album Lamest Fast Words
(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Lamest Fast Words". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

I overheard somebody telling me that 45 was not the final answer,

And he should know, he's made a spectacle of himself in his role as mystery dancer,

  I'll give my glasses a raise, to all his clever turns of phrase,

  That had me pumped up until, my aim is troubadour still.

 

I overheard somebody telling me the band is often nothing more than icing,

And he should know, he lit the fuse by making solo punk guitar seem so enticing.

  I'll raise my pint in the air, and cast my mind back if I dare,

  When his releases were met, with greetings to the new cassette.

 

I overheard somebody telling me the future was and still remains unwritten,

And in his day the present kept him busy clashing with the clampdown in Great Britain.

  I'll raise my flask in the air, and cast my mind back if I dare,

  As near as I could discern, my hero strummed while London burned.

from the album Lamest Fast Words
(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Lamest Fast Words". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

Venus looks but she will not talk,

Gypsy Davy boats his dock,

Mitch the drunk forgot to walk away.

Candy apples happy new year,

Please describe the thoughts that you hear,

You don't have a thing to fear with me.

 

  Venus near the sunset there,

  She doesn't mean to give you a scare,

  Don't you see there's nothing to hide,

  Don't you know, there's something inside.

 

I know you, you're so familiar,

Did I meet you playing billiards?

You are just the eyeful filler I need.

With the river at your door,

There's so much we could explore,

If I weren't so saddle sore just now.

 

  Venus near the sunset there,

  She doesn't mean to give you a scare,

  Don't you see there's nothing to hide,

  Don't you know, there's something inside.

 

Now you're playing in the park,

Now you're reading in the dark,

There's no need for snide remarks right now

Loving you and paper dolls,

At the centre of it all,

What a time for you to fall and how.

 

  Venus near the sunset there,

  Look at what he did to her hair, and walls,

  Don't you see there's nothing to hide,

  Don't you know, there's something inside that crawls.

from the album Lamest Fast Words
(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Lamest Fast Words", Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

Was it real, or was it just an infatuation?

That's the question he asks of the whole situation,

  He looks to be such a sad case, but then aren't we all out of place?

  And there he was trying so hard, to be the bard of the backyard.

 

Was it real, was it just reproductive instinct?

In a showdown with loneliness it seems that he blinked,

  And then the suspicions set in, it's over before it begins,

  Contortions that some will go through, to get rid of three drops of glue.

 

Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo,

Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo,

 

In a straight jacket made out of etiquette,

He was left in his misery it seems, and yet,

  He'd probably said far too much, once all of his courage was Dutch,

  They left him there on a slow burn, to teach him what he had to learn.

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Lamest Fast Words". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

Everyone gets a spin

On the wheel of misfortune, so strap yourself in,

No one controls the ride,

On the wheel of misfortune, though many have tried.

 

Dig yourself, dig yourself in,

Wanna have your tart and eat it,

Any diet can be cheated, good luck with trying to

Dig yourself, dig yourself out,

Rookie knight in tarnished armour,

Homelessly romantic charmer, coming to realize,

His little pawn, of its own accord,

Wants to get off the board.

 

Everyone gets a spin

On the wheel of misfortune, so strap yourself in,

No one controls the ride,

On the wheel of misfortune, though many have tried.

 

Turn yourself, turn yourself in,

First the verdict then the charges,

Guilty of the smallest largesse, trial and error take

Turn yourself, turn yourself out,

In your regular regalia,

For a thought of bacchanalia, you'll pay the ultimate,

Price on your head, the sofa's your bed,

You should have just lied instead.

 

Everyone gets a spin

On the wheel of misfortune, so strap yourself in,

No one controls the ride,

On the wheel of misfortune, though many have tried.

 

Everyone gets a spin

On the wheel of misfortune, so strap yourself in,

No one controls the ride,

On the wheel of misfortune, though many have,

The wheel of misfortune, though many have,

The wheel of misfortune though many have tried.

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Lamest Fast Words". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

Stealing a glance into her eyes

He's realizing,

That some of his plans and half his schemes

Or so it seems

Are there

 

Giving her songs before the rain

Then explaining

Words that are only for her ears,

Three Musketeers 

Exempt

 

  Suppose

  They never so much as embrace

  He knows

  He'll still hold some of her each place

  He goes

  The silent Cyrano

  And the angel at hand

  Is his Roxane

 

Vertical barbells and his faves

Walk on waves with help

Missile that launches on a jag

And things that Shag 

Would paint

 

  Suppose

  They never so much as embrace

  He knows

  He'll still hold some of her each place

  He goes

  The silent Cyrano

  And the angel at hand

  Is his Roxane

 

Backlit on Monday beautifully

With two and three stars

Castles and picnics finish out

The dream without 

The sleep

 

  Suppose

  They never so much as embrace

  He knows

  He'll still hold some of her each place

  He goes

  The silent Cyrano

  And the angel at hand

  Is his Roxane

 

  His Roxane

  His Roxane

  His Roxane

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Lamest Fast Words". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

I could go out for a while to clear my head,

But I know I'd only picture you instead,

With an inescapable conclusion waiting then:

It was fun to charge at windmills with a friend.

 

As a catalyst, you rearranged my thoughts,

I received a list of battles to be fought,

And for anyone who listened, I would recommend,

It was fun to charge at windmills with a friend.

 

  Because there ain't no cure for the summertime muse,

  I can't spring back from the fall I took,

  I'm the seasoned winner of my discontented truth.

 

Well, in hindsight things weren't quite as advertised,

But I still maintain a fondness in disguise,

And I might just miss you more than I can comprehend

It was fun to charge at windmills with a friend

 

  Because there ain't no cure for the summertime muse,

  I can't spring back from the fall I took,

  I'm the seasoned winner of my discontented truth.

 

So we drift apart through mutual neglect,

And I don't know if some day we'll reconnect,

But if we don't, there's one last message I will send:

"It was fun to charge at windmills with a friend".

 

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Lamest Fast Words". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

The things she said to me could fill up a void,

The things she said to me now leave me annoyed,

And I feel as though I've snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.

 

I got up on the wrong side of her mood,

And watched amazed as everything came unglued,

And paced around as I conjured up what to say next.

 

To boldly go where no man's fallen before,

Would seem a hobby, occupation or more,

Of those determined that their muscle of love is never flexed.

 

  I'm sincerely not concerned or so I claim,

  Even if it seems my only aim,

  Is laying blame.

 

As opportunity knocks you around,

You'll find some wisdom etched right into the ground,

As it comes up to meet you the first night your sorrows take a bath.

 

How we would imitate the beast with two backs,

Or was it just a front for something we lacked,

I'll have to sacrifice the company of her golden calves.

 

  Stay at home in voluntary quarantine,

  Act like nothing's wrong, the old routine,

  We've all seen.

 

And if I phone her in the middle of the night,

It's not for sentiment, but rather for spite,

If I lost any sleep the favour is easily returned

 

The things she said to me belong in a vault,

With priceless ironies and verbal assaults,

The stuff that screams are made of now that the courting is adjourned.

 

The things she said to me,

The things she said to me,

The things she said to me...

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Lamest Fast Words". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

She's got nineteen eyes all the way down to her hips,

She wears a neon fireman's helmet and has long winded fits,

Her daddy carries a woodstove and a telephone to boot,

His lab coat got no sleeves, but the pockets are filled with loot,

She's the girl you never wanted, but dreamed of all the same,

And if you roll her fuzzy dice you can play the wedding game.

 

Your soon-to-be mother-in-law has an apron full of knives,

She quotes you useless facts on all the neighbours' lives,

Then straightening her bow tie, makes noises like a bird,

Taking three steps backwards, she says she's not so sure,

That marrying a Libra is the best way to succeed,

And wouldn't it be funny if the wedding gifts were green?

 

The best man is a donkey and a well read one at that,

He's got a paisley cummerbund and a polka dot top hat,

He's dancing in the parking lot, feeling quite serene,

But the serenity is broken when the father-in law does scream,

That he's figured out the meaning behind the jelly rolls of song,

And leaping to his golf cart, drives through the wedding throng.

 

The preacher crawls in frowning with a plastic fishing rod,

He lights twelve sticks of dynamite, the congregations applauds,

Then quickly pirouetting through an elevator door,

Re-appears in seconds to read the hockey scores.

He looks vaguely familiar when he dons his hooded cloak, 

And completes the ceremony with a Liberace joke.

 

The flower girl responding to all this twisted fare,

With a kangaroo on a leash and a cactus in her hair,

She resembles John Belushi, but mostly around the waist,

She swallows her invitation, washes it down with some paste,

Then racing the desert cart around the bride's great aunt,

Rehashes her life story, but gives it a new slant.

 

The wine at the reception is filtered through the roof,

Your nephew from Nevada is tragically aloof,

And then the butter magnate crawls through the window pane,

Bearing gifts of matches and melted candy canes,

Five Tibetan monks are firing warning flares,

They finish off the evening riding chain saws down the stairs.

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Lamest Fast Words". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

For the lucky ones, life is a simple game to play,

For the lucky ones, never a price too high to pay,

For the lucky ones, part of me wishes them the best,

For the lucky ones, and did I mention I'm impressed?

 

They've got it made,

They've got all the lucky breaks,

They've got everything it takes,

The accolades, go on and on without fail,

Our lives do pale when we,

Realize they're second to none,

They make us green, those lucky ones, two, three.

 

For the lucky ones, life is a simple game to play,

For the lucky ones, never a price too high to pay,

For the lucky ones, part of me wishes them the best,

For the lucky ones, and did I mention I'm impressed?

 

With tongue in cheek, 

I only wish that I could be,

Among the ones who hold the key,

To life so chic,

Hope they can find it in their hearts,

To make me part of their,

Exclusive inner sanctum,

I'll be a useless lucky one, two, three…

 

For the lucky ones, life is a simple game to play,

For the lucky ones, never a price too high to pay,

For the lucky ones, part of me wishes them the best,

For the lucky ones, and did I mention I'm impressed?

 

The lucky ones,

Leave them to their little lives,

Leave them to the archives,

Oblivion,

In trying to memorize the rules,

Taught in the schools of the,

Socially slick simpletons,

Dressed up in drab unison,

Don't sell your soul to become,

One in a crowd of lucky ones, two, three...

 

For the lucky ones, life is a simple game to play,

For the lucky ones, never a price too high to pay,

For the lucky ones, part of me wishes them the best,

For the lucky ones, and did I mention I'm impressed?

 

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Lamest Fast Words". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

You are tying me to the lifestyle where,

All the freedom's chained, measured cut and planed,

But what you specify is never dealt in pairs,

All attention paid to what all you say, not do.

 

Pumping irony is your tour de force,

Heavy handed air, you blow without care,

Though hugging, kissing, owning blend in well of course,

There's something in that mix, you don't care to fix at all.

 

  So leave me out of your domestics,

  You never took part in my best kicks,

  Just leave me out of all your plans,

  Unplug the future, fold your hand

  You'll never bluff me up the aisle.

 

Pout then if you must, I still don't feel the guilt,

You try to induce, come on quit it, it's no use,

The verbal daggers you would drive in to the hilt,

Never make their mark, you're still in the dark after all.

 

  So leave me out of your domestics,

  You never took part in my best kicks,

  Just leave me out of all your plans,

  Unplug the future, fold your hand

  You'll never bluff me up the aisle.

 

Walking out the door's become a habit now,

I'd be nuts to break, there's nothing left at stake,

So lock it up behind me I'm not coming back,

Slipped out of the noose, glad I'm on the loose once more.

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Lamest Fast Words". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

There she was in all her glory, telling me a sailor story,

As she cracked another can of malt,

I was patiently explaining, while the beverages were draining,

That her life had not come to a halt.

 

  And the marshall with eyebrows raising,

  Saw the game on the couch he's facing,

  So aloof like he's deaf but not so dumb.

 

I was pacing 'round the lobby, mister chivalry embodied,

Done down as I was in dungarees,

She would pour her facts and fictions, out admitting her addictions,

To those shining knighthood wannabes.

 

  Now the marshall is spilling retorts,

  Flowing fast like the pints of import,

  Laughing gasping past the point of tears.

 

    Does social networking still come in bottle form?

    'Cause I could go for some right now,

    I'm on the starboard drinking port throughout the storm,

    As I sternly take a bow.

 

She still haunted by the pirate, me becoming boiling irate

Ain't it funny how some things don't change?

Meanwhile something somewhere stirring, as the mist of time was blurring,

Floating me out of the rebound range.

 

  They say hindsight's a clearer vision,

  But only after your mind's revisions,

  Change the story to what you want to hear.

(T. Cameron)

Story

From the album "Lamest Fast Words" (and the film "Love In The Sixth"!). Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

Well the lights are low and your perfume's fine,

The music flows like the hands of time

We're dancing here to the twist of fate

Another reason to stay up late,

  You say it sounds funny well imagine that

  I can't applaud the alternative with my hands in a trap, so

 

    Honey what is the deal?

    Is it my heart or money you want to steal?

    Tell me what's wrong with you?

    And is it wrong with me too?

 

Well some things don't help the mood at all

And leave me wanting to climb the walls,

What's a little hatred between two friends,

If one keeps it secret and the other pretends?

  A true romantic would admit it's no fun,

  But a true romantic would just buy flowers and then be done, so

 

    Honey what is the deal?

    Is it my heart or money you want to steal?

    Tell me what's wrong with you?

    And is it wrong with me too?

 

Well you can call me paranoid,

But there are things I want to avoid,

Suspecting things that I can't see,

Am I paranoid or are you naive?

  In the heat of the moment my judgement's poor,

  In the heat of the moment I can't keep cool anymore, so

 

    Honey what is the deal?

    Is it my heart or money you want to steal?

    Tell me what's wrong with you?

    And is it wrong with me too?

 

(T.Cameron)

Story

From the album "T.C. Folkpunk". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

Look at you, centre of the universe,

But it's time for the bubble to be burst,

Reality's been remote for you, it's no wonder a wake up call is due,

You're either a nuisance or you're just slightly annoying,

Hope you're enjoying,

Being alone in a crowded room.

  It's the age of nefarious and it's almost f*cking hilarious,

  The way everybody assumes they're a little bit special.

 

Give it up, you're not fooling anyone,

You were through long before you had begun,

Now you're just an obstacle on my way to reaching the pinnacle,

The empress has caught a chill and she's down with a fever,

Hard to believe her,

She's wasting all of our oxygen.

   

    Random acts of mindlessness, excelling at your own excess,

    Seems the more things change, the more you stay insane.

 

That's enough, I won't take it anymore,

I'll let you find your own way to the door,

Stop playing with platitudes if you want my infernal gratitude,

I don't need your hollow smile or your hollower greetings,

I'm not competing with you for your own affections.

(T.Cameron)

Story

From the album "T.C. Folkpunk". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

Take a Mousekarette and make it a star,

Lacking any substance it'll go far,

Dumb it down for toothless thinkers,

Proud to wear their blinkers.

  Zero to hero,

  In sixty seconds, no fear, no,

  Nobody knows your career low, Is ten more seconds away.

 

Put it on display in every mall,

Plastic makes perfect perfectly dull,

Trancendental medication,

For the TV nation.

  Zero to hero,

  In sixty seconds, no fear, no,

  Nobody knows your career low,

  Is ten more seconds away.

   

    A little song and dance will do the trick,

    Throw a stage parent in the mix,

    A nationally televised blunder,

    You stole your own thunder.

 

Make it mime like the puppet it is,

In the name of shameless shallow showbiz,

Dress it like a little punk-ette,

And send it on a junket.

  Zero to hero,

  In sixty seconds, no fear, no,

  Nobody knows your career low,

  Is ten more seconds away.

(T.Cameron)

Story

From the album "T.C. Folkpunk". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

Take a look around you, what do you wanna change?

Counting up the losses, counting up the gains,

  So take a look around you, decision time is here,

  And though it might be painful, the answer is so near,

  And soon it will be clear.

 

Take a look around you, where do you wanna go?

Fight against the current, or travel with the flow?

  So take a look around you, at all you love and hate,

  And weigh the two together, decide is this your fate,

  Or plan your great escape.

 

  So take a look around you, at everything in sight,

  You've seen it all before, now hold it to the light,

  Decide which way is right.

 

Take a look around you, when did it all go grey?

Not sure what you're thinking, not sure what to say,

  So take a look around you, where will you find your muse,

  You can't put off the future, but sometimes when you choose,

  You win as well as lose.

(T.Cameron)

Story

From the album "T.C. Folkpunk". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

So there I stood in a turquoise cloud,

Centre of attention of an out of town crowd,

Serenading stucco walls and beams,

Ready for the sword fight of my dreams,

    Feeling my way around in the dark for you.

 

Well the bar room bohemian he gets uptight,

Frowns on the red tattoos and bolts of light,

Worn by the Marx Brothers in a bold motif,

He sends them packing with his stale beliefs,

    Feeling my way around in the dark for you.

 

The November pirate in a vat of cheese,

Taps Tarzan's Jane on the shoulder, says "If you please,

"Is there something other than a submarine for me to sail?"

She reads his tea leaves and says "No you're doomed to fail",

    Feeling my way around in the dark for you.

 

Well it's one slice of mercury below the norm,

Left the sun-drenched diplomat in fighting form,

But the sheepdog's cousin quickly deflates his spunk,

Throws out the plastic hangers and other junk,

    Feeling my way around in the dark for you.

    Yes I'm just feeling my way around in the dark for you.

(T.Cameron)

Story

From the album "T.C. Folkpunk". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

She was sheltered beyond belief, she was Mommy's little girl,

With her trinkets, jewels and keepsakes,

She was such a fake, she was one mistake,

That I made though I've laid her to memory,

  And she has everything, diamond rings,

  But you'll be fooled if

  You try to keep up, with her abrupt,

  Changes and strangest moods.

 

Pampered from her first day, spoiled beyond your wildest greed,

Now she's forced to look at life,

Though look at it she might, if it gets her uptight,

She'll adjourn, she will return to the apron strings.

  And she has everything, diamond rings,

  But you'll be fooled if

  You try to keep up, with her abrupt,

  Changes and strangest moods.

   

    Our little princess is manic depressive,

    Such mood swing routines,

    Swiftly I saw through her screen

 

Well she thinks she's an original, but who would want to be like her,

Sure your gaze will find a resting place,

But there's hardly any trace, of sense behind her face,

She's confused but that isn't news to those that know her,

  And she has everything, diamond rings,  

  But you'll be fooled if You try to keep up, with her abrupt,

  Changes and strangest moods.

(T.Cameron)

Story

From the album "T.C. Folkpunk". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

You say you're happy with your lot, content with all the toys you've bought,

You fell into the ancient trap, wherein your thinking there's a gap,

  The admen all own your thoughts, so put your coin in the slot,

  Pull down the arm without shame, you play the game.

    And as long as you've got your paycheque, then you probably couldn't care less,

    But this instant coffee lifestyle, makes you crumble under the duress,

 

You say you wanna buy a home, you'll kill yourself to pay the loan,

Sometimes you wanna kick and scream, but you're still dying for your dream,

  You're in it up to your eyes, still there's a fact in disguise,

  Look closely you'll see it's true, your house owns you.

    But as long as you've got your paycheque, then you probably couldn't care less,

    But this instant coffee lifestyle, Makes you crumble under the duress.

 

They're out to take for a ride, you're in to all that they provide,

And so you keep the status quo, never the urge to overthrow,

  Their reign of consumer rule, that likens you to a tool,

  To fabricate what they need, For their own greed.

    But as long as you've got your paycheque, then you probably couldn't care less,

    But this instant coffee lifestyle, Makes you crumble under the duress.

(T.Cameron)

Story

From the album "T.C. Folkpunk". Buy it HERE!

Lyrics

You need to be broken down, no words could be spoken now,

To alleviate all the downs, and corner my runarounds,

  Stop it for Christ's sake, my heart is at stake,

  You will never be aware, If you sit and blindly stare down.

 

You're perfectly loveable, imperfectly gullible,

Naively believing in, the cynical and the grim,

  Tie up the loose ends, undo the tight bends,

  Think for once or twice or thrice, even if they're only spliced thoughts.

    Whenever I sink my teeth into you,

    Pay no mind, I'm only trying to do you,

    One good turn, in hopes you'll change direction,

    And pick up on my affections.

 

Part of me won't give a damn, the other part's your great fan,

The pendulum swings so far, I never know where we are,

  Pass to the right or, wrong out of spite for,

  All the things that mix you up, even though you might erupt here.

    Whenever I sink my teeth into you,

    Pay no mind I'm only trying to do you,

    One good turn in hopes you'll change direction,

    And pick up on my affections.

 

The real estate of our love, is pushing the price above,

The plain upon which I land, to find that it's only sand,

  I'll strum your rival, leaving you liable,

  To suspect the intricate, simply like an idiot would.

    Whenever I sink my teeth into you,

    Pay no mind I'm only trying to do you,

    One good turn in hopes you'll change direction,

    And pick up on my affections.

from the album "...every cloud has a sulphur lining..."
(T.Cameron)

Lyrics

Now that the world is run by fossil fools,

And corporations run the public schools,

Our infotainment puts it all in place,

And tells us how to fill up empty space

  It's bread & circuses, it's front page news,

  It's bread & circuses, they gotta keep us amused

 

These days the medium is the massage,

They're busy bowing to their own applause,

No need to question their integrity,

All the important stuff is on page three

  It's bread & circuses, it's front page news,

  It's bread & circuses, they gotta keep us confused,

   

    Now every cloud has a sulphur lining, still the sun is shining its dazzling rays,

    Face the corner in your dunce hat, they'll only tell you once that

    This is the way, it's gonna stay, and you'll obey, all that they say.

 

Now Gretzky's bigger than Jesus Christ,

In our complacent little paradise,

And all the voices that we trust the most,

Just want to keep the advertisers close.

  It's bread & circuses, it's front page news,

  It's bread & circuses, they gotta keep up the ruse.

from the album "...every cloud has a sulphur lining..."
(T.Cameron)

Lyrics

The rule of popularity is this: a contract sealed ain't sealed with with just a kiss,

And if you think it's a disgrace, they're lining up to take your place,

Careers can be sunk with no trace,

  So make yourself comfy on, his comfy casting couch,

 

Now you've done the dirty for your break, attraction not the only thing you fake,

Well welcome to glamourous life, and don't breathe a word to his wife,

He's had enough marital strife,

  So make yourself comfy on, his comfy casting couch

   

    He makes a killing the way he makes a living,

    You never knew this business was so giving

 

Bite your tongue and bite the bullet too, cushioning the blow would spoil the view,

A lazy boy becomes a man, your future is held in your hands,

The finger of fate makes demands,

  So make yourself comfy on, his comfy casting couch.

from the album "...every cloud has a sulphur lining..."
(T.Cameron)

Lyrics

Way of life wrapped in vapidity, pulls you in with such rapidity,

The whip cracks and you're tossed into the fray, you're half asleep in your flannel world of grey,

  In the land of lukewarm, well what did you expect?

  Polite and quite humourless, now you're a nervous wreck,

 

In this overpopulation boom, now you race the rats around the room,

The empty stare you focus on a screen, says a lot about your urban dreams,

  In the land of lukewarm, well what did you expect?

  Polite and quite humourless, now you're a nervous wreck,

    So you give the stressed years of your life,

    Now your soul's been amputated, and you're the one with the knife,

 

Now you're smug and uptight like the rest, everything you are has been repressed,

Now you face your fashionable fate, you've become the thing you used to hate,

  In the land of lukewarm, what did you expect?

  Polite and quite humourless, now you're a nervous wreck.

from the album "...every cloud has a sulphur lining..."
(T.Cameron)

Lyrics

The place I leave behind, in the dust,

Some day I'll reminisce, if I must,

And call up from the past, all I'm hoping to forget,

  The threat of old regrets,

 

The place I leave behind takes your voice,

Conformity a rule, not a choice,

A peg to fit a hole, shaped to someone else's needs,

 Indeed, but now I'm freed,

   

    Run, never look back, grinning as I pack,

    Things that may remind, me of the tedious grind: The place I leave behind,

 

The place I leave behind, with its ghosts,

I learned from them that first and foremost,

That staying put would mean, losing part of what was me,

 Ennui a certainty,

   

    Run never look back, grinning as I pack,

    Things that may remind, me of that tedious grind:

    The place I leave behind,

 

The place I leave behind, finally Is relegated to history,

I've burned a final bridge, linking me to yesterday,

 Okay I'm on my way,

 Nothing left to make me stay,

 I'll take a pass, now it's passe.

from the album "...every cloud has a sulphur lining..."
(T.Cameron)

Lyrics

Video, video, and its alluring haunted glow, I'd like to outgrow video,

 

They'll be right back, don't touch that dial,

Too much is riding on their, too perfect hair and smiles,

Big stakes in this medium, that's far from rare but never well done,

As content loses out to style,

   

Video video and its alluring haunted glow, I'd like to outgrow video,

 

Couch voyeurism only leads,

To useless ad campaigns for some crap that no one needs,

A talking head without a flaw and the weather girl's a Barbie doll and,

The guy on sports is high on speed,

   

Video video and its alluring haunted glow I'd like to outgrow video,

 

There in the corner blinks the drug,

The fix is never ending, and no one pulls the plug,

Nothing much on any station, it's all been done in syndication,

I'd rather sit and watch the rug,

   

Video video and its alluring haunted glow, like a plug in gigolo selling status quo,

I'd like to outgrow video.

from the album "...every cloud has a sulphur lining..."
(T.Cameron)

Lyrics

Looks like there's an industry that takes you to your final breath,

Still they're pleading innocent while causing menthol-flavoured death,

  You're the butt of their joke, keep laughing till you choke,

  They filter the truth, resorting to such,

  Ruthless measures as peer pressure,

 

Looks like there's an industry whose king size lobby cracks the whip,

Pushers, whose junkies all insist they'd rather fight than switch,

  The money you've burned, on the ashes that you've earned/urned,

  Proves you'll never quit, so get a lung little stogie,

  It's in vogue, we,

   

    See nothing wrong as long as the cash is flowing,

    Our future's bright from all of the gaspers glowing,

    Facts disappear, second hand smoke and mirrors has been,

    Our stock in trade for years,

 

Well it looks like there's an industry concealing craven cowardice,

How did Walter Raleigh ever talk us into all of this,

  You cancertainly stop temporarily,

  But still you'll return to the comfort of the,

  Burning embers, you remember.

from the album "...every cloud has a sulphur lining...
(T.Cameron)

Lyrics

Whatever, yeah yeah yeah,

Whatever, yeah yeah,

Whatever, yeah yeah yeah yeah,

 

Whatever, there's bullshit everywhere, and I'm supposed to care,

Remember, the latest fads and trends, don't matter in the end,

The information age is wasting my time, you want the fifteen minutes that Warhol promised? Well get in line!

 

Whatever, yeah yeah yeah,

Whatever, yeah yeah,

Whatever, yeah yeah yeah yeah,

 

Whatever, it seems that by and large, the inmates are in charge,

Asylum, is all that I request from this modern mess,

You surf the interglut, it's more of the same, a two dimensional world on a wired window pane,

 

Whatever, yeah yeah yeah,

Whatever, yeah yeah,

Whatever, yeah yeah yeah yeah,

 

Whatever, there are in point of fact some infomaniacs,

They're hungry, for scraps of useless news, keeping them confused,

Well I've seen grown men running amok, in the name of a team of millionaires chasing a puck,

 

Whatever, yeah yeah yeah,

Whatever, yeah yeah,

Whatever, yeah yeah yeah yeah!

from the album Never Mind The Hyperbolics
(T.Cameron)

Lyrics

See that couple over there, a matchmaker's nightmare,

You see them everywhere,

Venus has her own primate, tonight they're on a date,

Let's heckle and narrate,

  She dates creeps exclusively, she dates creeps, she won't date me,

  She'll marry a creep one day, and have creepy children, HEY!

 

He's part of the greaseball set, perhaps she lost a bet,

And doesn't know it yet,

Maybe he's just well-endowed, for which (s)he can be proud,

Though I've heard three's a crowd,

  She dates creeps exclusively, she dates creeps, she won't date me,

  She'll marry a creep one day, And have creepy children, HEY!

   

    Why is she with this creep, is it because she craves abuse?

    It's like she's half-asleep, will someone wake her with the news,

    It's him she's got to lose!

 

He's a waste of DNA, but nothing you could say,

Would make her pull away,

Could it be a mercy fuck? This doe should pass the buck,

Her dear one's out of luck,

  She dates creeps exclusively, She dates creeps, she won't date me,

  She'll marry a creep one day, And have creepy children, HEY!

from the album Never Mind The Hyperbolics
(T.Cameron/J.Clark)

Lyrics

All of these things you don't say, all of these things in their own way,

Say so much more than the words, ever could manage, you've done your damage,

Talk about low self-esteem, as you believe silly daydreams,

Open your eyes just once, you had your chance at hopeless romance but,

  You're someone else's problem now,

  And I don't care who or where or how,

 

Well it took the mickey from me, seeing your hand rest on his knee,

Still he's just watching TV, he pays no attention to your affections

I don't know which I hate most, being so wrong or coming so close,

Nothing that I do will change, your sick demeanour, time to come clean dear,

  But you're someone else's problem now,

  And I don't care who or where or how,

   

    Your problems are his problems now, my problem's I can't stop smiling out loud,

 

You're hungry for all of the looks, when I was starved you had me hooked,

Now I rebound from a void, life's little lessons leave their impressions

  But you're someone else's problem now,

  And I don't care who or where or how.

from the album Never Mind The Hyperbolics
(T. Cameron)

Lyrics

A clean page before me, like a child's mind,

So many ways to fill up the space,

I've got my diploma, got my degree,

Sharpen my hatchet, let's see you match it

  I'll give you a place to bury your face,

  Read what I've written, now you've been smitten,

  I am no hack, but I'll stretch the facts,

  To fill out the dailies, it's never failed me,

 

A clean page before me, like a toy truck,

Fill it with candy, fill it with sand, we

Know how to sell you what you want to hear,

Take a subscription to a media tradition,

  Here at the trough, we try to come off,

  Politically correct, well, we all know that sex sells,

  Call me some time, if you know a crime,

  You can have your fame, as a source unnamed,

 

A clean page before me, I'm pleading the first,

License to swill, to scoop and to spill,

My mind is made up, uncluttered by truth,

Dishonest depiction of my next victim,

  A blow I could smote, misprinting a quote,

  I can repaint you, tarnish and taint you,

  To contemplate less, I'd have to confess,

  I wouldn't try it, 'cause no one would buy it.

from the album Never Mind The Hyperbolics
(T.Cameron/C.Bartlett)

Lyrics

You don't have to be a mannequin, so don't you even try,

Keep in mind that old cliche, 'bout the beholder's eyes,

Here's pearl of wisdom that I'd like you to wear,

If you know where you wanna be, then you're halfway there,

  And I wish that you could see yourself, the way that I see you,

  How I wish that you could see yourself, you'd appreciate the view,

 

So just throw away those magazines, that tell you what to do,

They take away your self-esteem, and sell it back to you,

Forget about the photographs and forget about the words,

And forget those plastic dollies with the air-brushed curves,

  And I wish that you could see yourself, the way that I see you,

  How I wish that you could see yourself, you'd appreciate the view,

   

    See yourself, and you can choose the angle,

    Free yourself, from all that has entangled you,

 

When I look at you I have to say, there's nothing I would change,

Nothing I would alter, no, nothing rearranged,

You can't measure up to their yardstick when it's 22 miles long,

So don't even waste your time trying to right their wrong,

  And I wish that you could see yourself, the way that I see you,

  How I wish that you could see yourself, you'd appreciate the view,

  Oh I wish that you could see yourself, the way that I see you,

  How I wish that you could see yourself, you'd appreciate the view.

from the album Never Mind The Hyperbolics
(T.Cameron)

Lyrics

Hung up, his mind is rumblin', like he's afraid or somethin' of whispering,

Three little words,

Been kept infatuated, by lesser and he's dated many more,

Think he'd have learned,

Until that moment comes he'll, feel like it's left undone while you probably,

Know what he's thinking,

He thinks you might've planned it, dreamed of it at your end and pictured it,

Your bodies linking,

  Should be so easy but it's not at all like that,

  Should be so simple but he's fallen in a trap,

  Should be so easy to possess another soul,

  Picture his obsession swallowing you whole,

 

You don't know what it is you've, done to that mind of his, it's safe to say,

He's now fixated,

As if there's any chance of, him reading in your glance some message,

For which he's waited,

He's tired out and hungry, he's hit more snakes than rungs, he's thinking though,

It ain't no game,

And he's hopelessly romantic, is it you that made him frantic, could no one else,

Have done the same?

  Well, should be so easy but it's not at all like that,

  Should be so simple but he's fallen in a trap,

  Should be so easy to possess another soul,

  Picture his obsession swallowing you whole.

from the album Never Mind The Hyperbolics
(T.Cameron)

Lyrics

Frustration, I'm staring at the phone, illusions, of the two of us alone,

Believing, she'll ring at any time, deceiving, myself just one more time,

  She's gonna mangle it and there's nothing I can do,

  Aside from sweeping up the remains and rubble too,

  Will she snap out of it, and will the call come through?

    Maybe she don't wanna know me anymore,

    Maybe it's 'cause she's always closing doors,

 

Descending, the dimly lit stairs, misspending, two nights within her lair,

Devoted, completely so it seemed, footnoted, to the outskirts of her dreams,

  An explanation, if not two, would quite suffice,

  And all the better if explained by candlelight,

  Then I could overlook her innocent oversight,

    But maybe she don't wanna know me anymore,

    Maybe it's 'cause she's always closing doors,

 

To have and to hold is all I crave, and one time get back all that I gave,

It's not such a lot for one to ask, excuses to cover up her tracks,

  Well I could've sworn that everything was going well,

  I can't decide if it was a soft or hard sell,

  And I need perspective on this maddening mademoiselle,

    But maybe she don't wanna know me anymore,

    Maybe it's 'cause she's always closing doors,

    Yeah, maybe I don't wanna know her anymore,

    Maybe it's 'cause I finally closed the door.