Lyrics to “Will It Play In Peoria?” by Ganache
It starts with fists pounding cracks into every desk and the desks are cracking fists back and the fists are affixed to wrists and they’re wrapped with ticking gold worth more than your father told you would make in a year if your prose was tied in a bow and sold to the highest bidder then it cuts to you as your lips are turning blue as you let another tune fall across them till the kicking in your womb lets up and sleeps so your ceremony over on Main Street goes as swimmingly as you’ve seen on silver screens and as you’ve seen in magazines. It seems the seams they are erupting on the faultlines of your gown while the faces pressed up to the glass of the storefronts in this empty town say: “Oh everybody knows there is a single grain of Joy left in this desert so when you bring those sand-filled boots to my doorstep, I wanna see ya shake em out!”
If she makes dinner for you, you should salt your own steak, you should know the feel and the smell of the venom and the prick of the type of fang that shoots it. If she serves coffee, I’d take it black if I were you. Stir in that sugar that you brought back from your island hopping campaign. If she consumes you, I’ll chop her open and fill her all up with stones!
Music by Thom and Jim Stylinski. Lyrics by Thom Stylinski and Hazel Santino. Song out 2011 on Awkwardcore Records.
