Playing Dead

by Cannonball Statman

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08:25
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about

Traumatized by the sudden disappearance of her mother, and following the sage advice of her pet pigeon, Courier, a talking cow named Clare attempts to hitchhike to India from her farm in Kentucky.

credits

released December 22, 2017

All lyrics and music written and composed by Cannonball Statman in the days and nights between December 9th, 2016 and September 8th, 2017, and recorded in Trnava, London, and Bristol that same September, at Kubik, James' flat, SpaceWolf, Joe's Garage, and Hazel, Ben, and Kitten of Love's place.

Engineered, mixed, and produced by Ben Turner.

Mastered by Joe Caithness.

Album art designed by Brian Kelly in Brooklyn, with photography by Emre Sendogan in Bratislava Castle.

Acoustic, electric, and bass guitars, hammond organs, pianos, xylophones, synthesizers, and vocals - Cannonball Statman.

Drums - Tom Milsom.

Vocals on tracks 4, 5, 6, 8, and 9 - Hazel Winter.

12-string electric guitar on track 10 and vocals on track 6 - Michael McNeil.

Vocals on track 7 - James Robinson.

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German Shepherd Records Salford, UK

Greater Manchester Based independent, not for profit, record label offering a variety of eclectic music for your listening pleasure

Different Noises For Your Ears.

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Track Name: (She's) In Rehabilitation
One year ago today, I was a cow named Clare,
living on a farm in Kentucky,
blindly milked by blind and horrible men
for the blind and impulsive consumer.

My mother and I planned to leave,
hitchhike to Newark International Airport,
and hijack a plane to India,
where we would experience immeasurable levels of respect and adulation
for the rest of our lives.

We enlisted the help of our pet pigeon, Courier,
who flew around the world,
acquiring useful information pertaining to our plans,
and relaying this information to us.
Courier was a brave and loyal bird.

One day, I couldn't find my mother.
I assumed she'd forgotten about me,
and left on her own;
cows do silly things when they get old.

But Courier searched the entire state of Kentucky,
and found nothing;
there wasn't a single report of a cow
standing on the side of the road
trying to hitch a ride all week,
and no mention of a cow in any newspaper.

Not even the National Enquirer,
the Alex Jones show,
or anything put out by Rupert Murdoch's international media empire.
People hadn't even eaten cheese that day!

"What a horrible day to be a bovine!"
I exclaimed,
to which Courier replied,
"but isn't every day?"
We have a dark sense of humor.

That was when I saw the rooster;
the only rooster living on that prison we called a farm.
The rooster had no name,
and rarely spoke, if at all.

"I saw your mother,"
said the rooster,
"her eyes were closed and crooked;
her spirit, torn between two large and imposing vessels.
She's in rehabilitation; she's us.
She's in rehabilitation; save us.
She's playing dead."

I got up; it was late in the evening.
I put on my shoes, and I took a walk.
I was thinking about a story that had yet to be written.

I don't remember exactly how I met you,
but there was something wrong with our hair.
It was getting in the way of something, and you didn't like it.
We walked into the park; it was raining.

You said someone you know is hoping
that you can follow me
into the end of the day,
where it's always sort of raining.
Track Name: Courier Says I - The Farm
Moo. Chirp chirp chirp. CHIRP! Bahhh. OINK! MOO! CHIRP!
Track Name: Faster (15th Anniversary Remix)
I just wanna make this time go faster.
Track Name: Courier Says II - Dance of the Soldier
Do you know the dance of the soldier?
It's how she carries her military
everywhere she ever goes;
it's all she knows.

Walking East on Elysian Fields
into the mouth of the coming moment;
and the teeth of the West close in
on her shadow on the sidewalk.

The melody in her mind
keeps her entertained for a minute,
before the return of her choreographer,
always right on time.

The sun sets over her eyes,
and her figure animates in accordance with
the walls of her own cave closing in on her.

Is it the death of her heart I am watching?
Yes, I do believe it is.
But that's the dance.
Track Name: Henry Hudson
Courier says it's a strange world;
great big wings, swallowed there.
That's Henry Hudson; he's got quite the mouth.
It's no place for my friends to rest.

And we'll cross Henry Hudson one last time;
cross Henry Hudson one last time,
for my friends on the other side.

Saw the spacecraft touch down;
aluminium wings, struck by the sunrise.
It wasn't long before we got on;
this deranged man and me.

And we'll be bound for a better place.
We are bound to a better place
by the thirst in me.

Courier says it's a sad day;
broken wings, and raging storm clouds.
We are the spacecraft taking off;
we are the spacecraft over the highway.

We'll cross the hudson one last time;
cross Henry Hudson
for you.
Track Name: Unoccupied Unfinished Brandenburg International Airport Location
In other news, we now have authentically verifiable proof
of the theory previously filed under
"conspiracy theories most absurd that generally,
people are found entirely incomprehensible
without prior application of their highest doses of LSD."

This is the theory where the German government
has clone id musician Blixa Bargeld
into one million twice life size cyborgs,
housed inside eternally
unoccupied unfinished Brandenburg International airport location;

the intention was for use as powerful enforcer-soldiers
of new unforeseen global regime,
and this would have been unfortunate,
if not four, one
tipsy-rogue plane pilot from New York,

which has just crash landed inside our eternally
unoccupied unfinished airport location

where these one million giant cyborgs
wurst ored,
and with the public unaware for so many years,
during the presumed unending construction of this airport,
when now we see this was in front of something far more sinister,
and all along, we had thought of this being only a lunatic notion.

Now, the one million Blixzilla,
the name we are calling them,
have short-circuited, influenced buy one
tipsy-rogue plane pilot from New York,

and the music of Einsturzende Neubaten.
No one is sure what to do about them,
and they are very weightful, being that
primarily, they are composed with scrap metal.

To our knowledge, they are not a danger, but a nuisance,
and for now, they are just perpetually running around Germany,
and all the surrounding aria, making funny noises.
AHH!!!
Track Name: The English Channel
Hey!
Wanna cross the English channel with me right now?
Genau!

She's looking at you
from the other side of the room;
motioning to the menu
with her weathered face,

strong, wise, curious,
and spiteful, like her mother.
Can you take it?

Can you cross that bridge?
Can you make it
to the other side of the room?

It's a long walk,
but you'll be there in no time.
Just follow me,
and say,
Track Name: (She's In) a Pizzeria
"Hey!
We don't normally serve cows in here,
but we'll make an exception
for you;

we make the best pizza in the world
right here,
on the other side of the room,
and we want you to taste it!"

It tastes just like my mother made it.
Tastes just like my mother made it.
It tastes just like my mother made it
over the ocean.

She's in cheese!
She's in cheese!
She's playing dead;
she's playing dead!

He smokes one cigarette a year,
and it's the happiest moment of his life;
life!

Life! LIE!!!
Track Name: Tiramisu
FFF!!! LIFE!!!

Twenty fears seven
'cause seven eight nine;
everyone's afraid of
sixty-nine.

I'm afraid, like twenty-four seven;
I'm afraid all the time.
I spend all my time afraid;
when I'm with you, time stops.

I wanna move into your dimension;
will you break down your door for me?
I'm cold, bitter, jaded, and dry;
pick me up.

It gets pretty hectic around here,
in the place of wind;
in the place of what?
The bus station.

I'm in the corner,
drinking cheese and amaranth.
I'm so happy!
I'm a well of emotion!

I need coffee whiskey
and terminal disease; you need it!
Oh, please; dessicant! You need it!
It tastes so sweet! Kill me now!

Where is the bus station?
Does anybody know?
I wanna drink some gasoline
in this maze, the labyrinth.

We are the bus station,
we come and we go.
We are the bus station! What?
We come and we go.

We are the bus station! What?
We come and we go.
Some people wanna go everywhere;
they're gone.

We are the bridge jumpers.
We are the hot sauce;
we are a sauce made of heat!

What is this thing I'm eating?
This coffee sugar thing!
This coffee sugar sugar coffee sugar coffee coffee sugar thing!
Cold, bitter, jaded, and dry; like me!

We're not in fucking Kansas!
Am I, like, Kansas to you, motherfucker?!
Yeah, you are!

Kansas, to you, motherfucker?!
Am I, like, flyover country?!
That was a yes!

And I, like, like Kansas!
Kansas is, it's, like, a state!
Damn right it is!

I love you!
And you are the hot sauce; like,
how ya doin', hot sauce?!
How ya doin'?!

I love you!
And you are the hot sauce;
but hey!
Hey, guy!

Yeah, you!
With the cellular telephone sell smells
guy! Brain guy! With acid! Acid! Hey!

I got a question! Hey!
An authentically verifiable what? Real
what? Serious, question!

So, what? Life! What if I'm serious? Life!
Is that, like, a pariah thing?
That I do the serious,
and you do the hot sauce?

So, what? What?
Fuck it. Fuck what?
So, what fuck it? Fuck what?
Fuck it! Fuck it!

You! Fuck it!
Fuck the question! With your hand!
So what do we do?
Life! What do we do?

Life! What do we do for the dissonance?
Life! What do we do?
What do we do for the dissidents?
What do we do?!
Say,

"grow into those new chains;
cross the bridge, don't jump off.
Grow into those new chains;
keep on walking, don't trip.

Don't trip on your chains;
cross the bridge, don't jump off.
Grow into your chains;
don't fucking jump."

But I wanna! What?
I wanna! What? What?
I wanna! What?
I wanna! What?

Jump!
I got up.
Track Name: Garden (A Dream I Had)
I got up; it was late in the evening.
I put on my shoes, and took a walk.
I was thinking about a story that had yet to be written,

and I don't remember exactly how I met you,
but there was something wrong with your hair;
it was getting in the way of something, and you didn't like it.
We walked into the park, it was raining.

Someone you know is hoping you can follow me;
someone you know is hoping you can follow me
into the end of the day, where it's always sort of raining.
Pieces and pieces fall down from the sky.
It the end of the day, it's really fucking raining.
If you've seen it before, you know I ain't lying.

We were walking, it was a little bit past midnight;
we could hear people singing, screaming, from afar.
We stopped talking, I heard a footstep,
of course I heard it, it was you walking around in the woods all along,

and we walked into a house with a door, and a letter from the city,
telling me they didn't really care about anyone,
and I folded it up and let you inside, to my house,
and you said "there's nothing really there!

Someone you know is hoping you can follow;
someone you know is hoping you can follow me
into the end of the day, where it's always sort of raining.
Pieces and pieces fall down from the sky.
The end of the day, when it's raining;
you've seen it before, so you know, I ain't lying.

We were talking about a dream you had;
it kept happening around three, four, five in the morning.
Rocket ship flying out of Newark International Airport;
you were about three miles away, somewhere in the city.

You were just waiting for the train."
We were walking.
"And you missed it.
You missed the rocket ship by about two hours.

It was the saddest day of your life.
The strangest thing is,"
we were walking,
"about a day later, you found out

that instead of going out of the atmosphere, into the air,
out into space, some other dimension,
some other planet,"
we were walking,
"it just crash landed in some abandoned airport
in Berlin."

We were talking, until it was morning;
you said you were starting to get used to my empty house.
Could've gone on, but you got up,
and you left, and you said "goodbye,"
and I don't think I ever saw you again,

and I got up; it was late in the evening,
and I put on my shoes, and took a walk.
I was thinking about a dream I had,
and I was thinking about how

I like to leave my footprints in the snow.
I like to leave my footprints over there, in the snow.
But you, you came along, and shoveled up all the snow;
now the gardens are green again.

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