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  • Here you'll find standalone MP3s and lyrics of our classier tunes - chiefly, songs from our podcast that can hold their own outside the mother show's rich narrative framework.
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    Wanna B N Angel (Download MP3)
    Music by Gord Myren.
    Lyrics by Andrey Summers.
    Originally featured in Podcast 204: The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Podcast
    Recorded by the Red Square Collective.

    Gord: Aw yeah.
    Andrey: Damn, baby.
    Gord: You know in school when they have a career day in like grade three,
    Andrey: And they ask you 'watchu wanna be when you grow up, guuurl?'
    Gord: I told em I don’t wanna be no fireman,
    Andrey: And I don’t wanna be no astronaut,
    Gord: But I do wanna be something similar to an astronaut.
    Andrey: ‘s only one thang I wanna be, babydoll.

    I wanna be an angel
    High above the world
    Sittin’ on a cloud, munchin’ on a bird

    Angel
    Fly above it all
    Sex you up girl, if I weren’t asexual

    Checkit growing up in Compton, my atheist parents
    Told me angels evolved from the archaeopteryx
    First winged creature to be rockin’ feathers
    Big fluffy-ass clouds were its favorite weather
    Now, if I’s an angel
    No, I’d never age, y’all
    I’d ride fluffy clouds until I was deranged, y’all
    And now for the haters sayin’ angels is whack,
    An abridged compilation of angel-based facts:

    On the Galapagos islands Charles Darwin found Angels
    But since then the Angels have become endangered
    Not only do they get sucked into jet engines
    But poachers hunt them for their valuable urine

    Gord: How 'bout that?
    Andrey: Educatin' y'all muthafuckas.
    Gord: Sunday school, baby.
    Andrey: Seven days a week.
    Gord: Any given Sunday, girl.
    Andrey: Al Pacino.
    Together: Godfather Part Two!

    I wanna be an angel
    High above the world
    Sittin’ on a cloud, munchin’ on a bird

    I wanna be an angel



    The I Feel Pretty Good Blues (Download MP3)
    Music written and performed by Gord Myren.
    Lyrics by Andrey Summers.
    Originally featured in Podcast 201: Radio City Music Hall Presents 'An Evening with Podcast'
    Recorded at Rallytime Records.

    Well I woke up this morning
    In my big queen size bed
    Thought I'd take a shower
    But I took a bath instead

    It's Saturday baby
    Got nothing to do
    So I'm sitting here singing
    The I Feel Pretty Good Blues

    Thought I'd make a sammich
    'Fore the baguette goes stale
    It's a French baguette baby
    I bought five on sale

    The manager, he knows me
    Down at the Fun Lucky Mart
    Mr. Yamasaki
    I learned his last name by heart

    I've got the blues
    The I Feel Pretty Good Blues
    The I Know A Japanese Guy And He Gives Me Little Discounts Blues

    Now I'm doing a crossword
    I'm quite good at this
    Two down, five letters
    A restraint for your wrists

    Well that must be "handcuffs"
    But "handcuffs" is nine
    I'll shorten it maybe
    Just "cuffs" should do just fine

    I've got the blues
    The I Feel Pretty Good Blues
    The I Told You I Was Good At Doing Crosswords And Sudokus Blues

    Now my cell phone is ringing
    Girl, you're on the line
    Say you're leaving me baby
    But I don't really mind

    It was great while it lasted
    And I have no regrets
    But I won't make a big deal of it
    By whining about what's past

    I've got the blues
    The I Still Feel Pretty Good Blues
    The I Know How Two Mature People Can Mutually End A Relationship Blues

    My bottle of fruit juice
    Is empty tonight
    I drink too much baby
    Too much Sunny Delight

    I know it's not healthy
    I'm destroying myself
    But down at the Fun Lucky Mart
    There's nothing else pulpless on the shelf

    I've got the blues
    The I Feel Pretty Good Blues
    The At Least I Have The Sense To Never Drink, Do Drugs Or Have Fatty Foods Blues

    Now I'm manning the phones, girl
    Down at the crisis line
    Hearing all the poor people
    As they bitch and they whine

    God damn it's annoying
    To hear them go on
    But if I put it all to music
    I might get a decent song

    I've got the blues
    The I Feel Pretty Good Blues
    The Sad People's Lives Plus Rhyme Scheme Maybe Equals Small Time Profits Blues
    I've Made Up A Genre And I Don't Know What To Call It Blues.



    Santa Klau-au-auss (Download MP3)
    Music written and performed by Gord Myren.
    Lyrics written and performed by Andrey Summers.
    Originally featured in the 2006 Christmas Podcast
    Recorded at Rallytime Records.

    Every year in West you celebrating
    When the fat man breaks into your homes
    He have a present for your childrens if they sit up on his lap
    The name by which the pedophile is known is

    Santa Klau-au-auss
    Sneak at night into your house
    With a list of all the children that he likes

    Santa Klau-au-auss
    Is not easily aroused
    But he knows which ones is naughty and which nice

    In my country if old man is knowing
    When my childrens sleep or is awake
    I do not demand my wife to leave the cookies and the milk
    But instead I smash his face in with a rake

    But America is a much confusing
    In the things they choose to cleebrate
    Like in springtime when the rabbit lays the brown things that you eat
    And you crucify this Jesus you must hate
    Wait

    Santa Klau-au-auss
    Have long fangs inside his mouth
    And he slithers through the forrest hungrily

    Santa Klau-au-auss
    In his claws he catch the mouse
    And he build a nest on top of Christmas tree

    (Big finish)
    Santa Klau-au-auss
    Sell his soul to hell like Faust
    And the devil give to him eternal life
    Santa Klau-au-auss
    In the frozen north he's housed
    In a prison made of dragon scales and ice



    Self Portrait (Download MP3)
    Music written and performed by Gord Myren.
    Lyrics written and performed by Andrey Summers.
    Originally featured in Podcast 104: Podcast Goes Hawaiian
    Recorded at Rallytime Records.

    You have a dashing, powerful persona
    A wealth of knowledge and unyielding taste
    Good humor and respect are your Corona
    Your pants are pressed, your shoes are neatly laced

    You wind-surf, you eat pears and re-read Chaucer
    Hook salmon, but then always throw it back
    You even proved you'd seen a flying saucer (to a skeptic)
    You don't support the conflict in Iraq

    You bought a jar of pickles from a cyclops
    Restored the stained-glass window of a church
    You spend all night hunched over in your workshop
    Hand crafting tiny ponies out of birch

    The day Edward R. Murrow was cremated
    You had his ashes scattered in the alps
    And 'neath the harvest moon you celebrated (with a skeptic)
    The head of every chieftain that you scalped

    For every genocide you propogated
    For every crowded orphanage you burned
    For every teenage girl you impregnated
    You left a dozen movies unreturned

    In 1939 you ravaged poland
    You pawned away your furniture for blow
    You sold your sister to a pimp, to finance your new colon
    And you're the only one who listens to this show.



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