T. Hakola- words/music, Gloomy, guitars, bass...
Mélanie Menu-Sunday, Sébastien Pouderoux-Old Schmuck
Zoé Hochberg-drums, Bénédicte Villain-violin
contact/info: www.theohakola.com
THE CAT SONG
GLOOMY: I’m Gloomy
SUNDAY: I’m Sunday
G and S: We’re hungry! Where’s our buffet?
GLOOMY: We didn’t ask to live here but as it’s here we dwell
G and S: You must see to our needs and assure we eat well
GLOOMY: You’re our human with hands and opposable thumbs
to pry open the cans that speak so sweetly to our tongues
Crème de tuna, foie de cow
G and S: Where’s our breakfast, we want it now!
GLOOMY: It’s your job, old man, to keep us fed!
SUNDAY: Oh... Oh, but... What if he’s dying... or already dead?
GLOOMY: If that be so, darling, I tell you we’re toast
In a regime of forced fast, we last a week at the most
To open a can, you need a live human host
We’re history here if all we have is a ghost!
If our feeder has reached the end of his line
it’s curtains for kittens, yeah, bye bye feline
To keep getting fed we need our old biped
We’re gonesville, baby, if the old dude is dead
HIM: What do you want?
GLOOMY: Ah, it only sleeps!
HIM: Leave me alone!
SUNDAY: Not dead after all, it speaks
GLOOMY: It’s time
HIM: Time to what?
SUNDAY: Time to your sleep interrupt
Time to not against us trespass
GLOOMY: Time to move your sorry ass!
HIM: But the alarm has yet to ring!
SUNDAY: Tut-tut, master, stop bellyaching
It’s your charges’ hunger that needs staving
GLOOMY: So fucking feed your cats, you hoary old thing
G AND S: If you’re not dead, get the hell out of bed, i
t’s time to wake the fuck up!
To the kitchen repair and our meal prepare, you fat old feckless slut
HIM: Don't tell me you're already hungry!
GLOOMY: He said oh so dumbly...
G and S: We’re hungry. We’re hungry. We’re hungry.
HIM: You callous carnivores, you whores depraved!
You harpies, furies, and shrews...
SUNDAY: Who from the Dark Angel will not be saved
if this morning meal you do us refuse!
GLOOMY: Our bowls are empty, we're starving to death
and our litter is a big sand turd pie
SUNDAY: So foul and fetid, it’s as bad as your breath...
HIM: But I'm half-dead and indebted and you're sucking me dry!
GLOOMY: Oh boo hoo, you pussy, we really don't care
Get a move on, you wussy, it's time we were fed!
We’re bellies with paws, we’re craving with claws
Flout feline laws and we'll piss on your bed!
S and G: It’s time, we’re hungry, you bovine buttercup
Time to give us breakfast, you fat old feckless schmuck
It’s time, we’re hungry, you bovine buttercup
Time to break our fast, you poor old, poor old porcine schmuck
Mélanie Menu-Sunday, Sébastien Pouderoux-Old Schmuck
Zoé Hochberg-drums, Bénédicte Villain-violin
contact/info: www.theohakola.com
THE CAT SONG
GLOOMY: I’m Gloomy
SUNDAY: I’m Sunday
G and S: We’re hungry! Where’s our buffet?
GLOOMY: We didn’t ask to live here but as it’s here we dwell
G and S: You must see to our needs and assure we eat well
GLOOMY: You’re our human with hands and opposable thumbs
to pry open the cans that speak so sweetly to our tongues
Crème de tuna, foie de cow
G and S: Where’s our breakfast, we want it now!
GLOOMY: It’s your job, old man, to keep us fed!
SUNDAY: Oh... Oh, but... What if he’s dying... or already dead?
GLOOMY: If that be so, darling, I tell you we’re toast
In a regime of forced fast, we last a week at the most
To open a can, you need a live human host
We’re history here if all we have is a ghost!
If our feeder has reached the end of his line
it’s curtains for kittens, yeah, bye bye feline
To keep getting fed we need our old biped
We’re gonesville, baby, if the old dude is dead
HIM: What do you want?
GLOOMY: Ah, it only sleeps!
HIM: Leave me alone!
SUNDAY: Not dead after all, it speaks
GLOOMY: It’s time
HIM: Time to what?
SUNDAY: Time to your sleep interrupt
Time to not against us trespass
GLOOMY: Time to move your sorry ass!
HIM: But the alarm has yet to ring!
SUNDAY: Tut-tut, master, stop bellyaching
It’s your charges’ hunger that needs staving
GLOOMY: So fucking feed your cats, you hoary old thing
G AND S: If you’re not dead, get the hell out of bed, i
t’s time to wake the fuck up!
To the kitchen repair and our meal prepare, you fat old feckless slut
HIM: Don't tell me you're already hungry!
GLOOMY: He said oh so dumbly...
G and S: We’re hungry. We’re hungry. We’re hungry.
HIM: You callous carnivores, you whores depraved!
You harpies, furies, and shrews...
SUNDAY: Who from the Dark Angel will not be saved
if this morning meal you do us refuse!
GLOOMY: Our bowls are empty, we're starving to death
and our litter is a big sand turd pie
SUNDAY: So foul and fetid, it’s as bad as your breath...
HIM: But I'm half-dead and indebted and you're sucking me dry!
GLOOMY: Oh boo hoo, you pussy, we really don't care
Get a move on, you wussy, it's time we were fed!
We’re bellies with paws, we’re craving with claws
Flout feline laws and we'll piss on your bed!
S and G: It’s time, we’re hungry, you bovine buttercup
Time to give us breakfast, you fat old feckless schmuck
It’s time, we’re hungry, you bovine buttercup
Time to break our fast, you poor old, poor old porcine schmuck
Category
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Music