Obit for a Wasp

http://www.switchpod.com/users/occupant/sad_sam.mp3

Our new vocalist, Babe, has penned a couple of blues songs recorded with minimal percussion. When Babe sings I feel it right down in my granddaughter's boots. Jeremy, Q's mentor, ws holding his head last night in the session because Babe's voice sounds exactly to him like a marauder he encountered as a hypnotist on the Danube. [Jeremy taught Mesmer - but that's another story.] Even if Babe isn't the same marauding person, tell that to Jeremy. He's haunted. But what can we do. Babe signed on with us and I had no idea it would bug Jeremy to this degree. Babe's Dad did the phone tree for the Vancouver Public Library for many years, but again, some folks found Babe Sr.'s voice had a sinister edge. Sadly, he lost his position at the VPL. This experience shaped Babe Jr.'s Weltanschauung and you can hear the issue present significantly in this piece:

It would be easier
if there was a god
or maybe more than one.
It would be easier
if there was a god
or maybe more than one.
But it’s the fact
there is no god
which keeps me on the run.
Bad digestion makes me dream
of things about to happen.
Bad digestion lets me dream
of things about to happen.
Nothing happens I get sad
and everything is dampened.
You set it up and worry about it,
that’s what’s called a life.
You set it up and worry about it
and that passes for a life.
I wrote an Obit for a wasp
and stuck it in a nest.
I wrote an obit for a wasp
and stuck it in a nest.
It was doused with gasoline
and finally laid to rest.