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White Cenac

by Executive Producer

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It’s not entirely impossible for this to become the album of the year All it needs is a couple sweet hooks All I need is someone to cook the books Sheeeet, who the hell do I think I am? I’m no Leonard Cohen, John Darnielle, Phil Elverum, or Piddy Witter Youngdee, (I mean) Peter Willie Youngtree I know what you’re thinking and you’re not wrong You know I don’t belong Just because I only pick up my guitar for one month a year Doesn’t make me a Neko Case, fella from the Beatles who played the bass Surf-jan Stevens or Piddle Witter Bungbee, I mean Peter Willie Youngtree Hell, maybe there’s still a chance. All I need is Someone to produce it An executive to introduce it A decent mix and master, then it's done The greatest album of 2021
Overtime, short staffed / Gettin' paid time and a half All that remains / Are overlooked expectations All that I have are pure and simple complications Unopposed and uneventful Well I suppose, I can be resentful Making fun, sharing a laugh / We’re having a time and a half Sometimes I lie for fun and sometimes I lie for free Fire works and water’s on the pogey Happy in paranoia Sentenced to a year less a day / I only served time and a half I’ve done some traveling, on a prison train to Georgia Somebody told me / All the world's a cage And all the people are merely prisoners The last note plays as I pull into the station Someone’s waving / Waiting for me
Today is okay / But it’s a bit of a write off Why don’t you stay, come back to bed and turn the light off I’m sick / I’m sick of all these rhymes I’m almost sick of almost crimes I’m getting sick of these times / That don’t lead anywhere Today was okay / But it's a bit of a trade off Left tomorrow in disarray / Another day to take off Sick of these songs I got no way to write these wrongs I’m sick / But I’ll get better I’ll get better Crashed my car today, had to write it off Didn’t know what to say / Didn’t know when to stop You can ignore my letter / I already told you I’ll get better I’ll get better
I’m walking in Phoenix / I'm strolling through Tupelo I'm wandering / You know I’m wandering I’m roaming / I’m roving / I’m treading and traipsing through the land But still I’m wandering The longest walk in the world He’s taking me on the longest walk in the world We’ve been around this block too many times I’m starting to think we might not have a destination Homeless dog / I want somewhere to lay my head I’m a dog without a home / but I guess you don’t have one either
I keep finding pieces of me Trapped beneath the undertow I keep finding pieces of it all I keep thinkin’ it’s never, never Never, never gonna end But still I wake up every day beside you My only friend I’ve been told there’s no way out of this mess Someone told me there’s just no way outta here Everything we had’s gone in a second Anything good has disappeared There’s no point going through the wreckage If you don’t care, well I don’t care Leave me where I stand / Take me as I am Here under the undertow
The world is unfair Yeah it’s unfair But it’s unfair in my favour I used to live in fear Cause the world is unfair Until I got aware That at least it’s unfair in my favour The house always wins But I looked it up on the internet Turns out / I’m the house I wish the world wasn’t unfair But I’m not too naive to admit It’s unfair in my favour Is it cause I’m a man? Is it cause I’m a white man? Is it cause I’m a white Canadian man? Yes
I have killed / some time before I have been / nothing more Than a time machine / than a time machine I don’t know / If what I did was right But I know / It felt wrong inside My only way out / Is in a time machine Why would it be any different this time It’s not like I'm wondering, wandering down the line I've died a thousand times before And I’ll die a thousand more Before I get out In my time machine In my time machine
The conversations that I’ve having in my head aren’t even close to happening The conversations that I’m having with my self are a waste of time I’m livin', but I’m livin' a lie I am the end / I am the end / I am the end / Of the road I am the end / I’m at the end / I’m at the end of my rope I’ve been around for awhile, but I’m not long for this life I’m alone in my own head / I want out, but I hide instead I’m livin', but I’m livin' a lie
Some people slide into addiction Some people lose their inhibitions Some follow through on a long shot ambition But here I stand / Exactly as I am Some people are happy Some people are a little more honest Some people have kids / Some live off the grid But here I stand / Exactly where I am I’m a happy medium Live a life of tedium I spend my evening stevening Being the mean and median I wish I was, but I’m no different than I was I’m exactly / exactly as I am
Who keeps taking my oven mitts away from me I’m in the middle of baking Try'na make some cookies to have with my tea Where are the paper towels The cutlery is missing from the drawer I might be living in a sentient kitchen Who keeps turning the stove on when I’m not home Something’s making me feel like I’m not so alone But it’s a little scary To think a robot's is hiding my strawberries I guess I’ll (need to) appease my sentient kitchen By being its friend Me and my robot kitchen till the end We’re best friends Just me, me and my sentient kitchen
Mitch Fillion made a short film about Paul is Dead I’ll never find it again I listened to the Department of Foreign Affairs / For years and years I’ll never find them again I'm lost / I’ll never find me again There was one thing about a dolphin that I’m not gonna say here But I'm never gonna find it again I look and look and look and look and look and look But I'm never gonna find it again I'm never gonna find me again
The flood of blow goes up her nose The flow of blood comes down The mirror shows her glamour I suppose It’s too much for this town I know you’re cold, but it don’t look right I know your style can get a lot better. You gotta, you gotta, you gotta give up on the Sweater on sweater. You’re not a dominatrix You don’t ride a bike ever Why you still tryin' to pull off The leather on leather Plaid on plaid / Looks bad bad bad Linen on linen / Who are you kiddin' There’s only one way to go denim on denim on denim The Canadian tuxedo It’s the way to go The only way to go)
I wanna be an American boy Sittin' on the back porch On the 4th of July I wish I was an American boy Settin’ off fireworks Havin’ a helluva time Living / I wanna live in the American dream I wanna feel those American joys Drive a big friggin' truck Eat some apple pie I wanna make that American noise Football cheers, cheersin’ beers, be a real cool guy Living / I wanna live in the American dream I don’t wanna make these American toys My hands are weak I’m gonna cry My foreman’s an arsehole, his lies to Hasbro are ploys I wanna rip out his heart / I’m not gonna lie I wish I had a mohair sweater I wish I had some mo' hair on my head I wish I had Moe here, to pour me up a couple beer But I’ll just play the spoons instead I wanna be an American boy / on the 4th, on the 4th of July
I see a monkey eating fish / I see a monkey telling you to give me a kiss Because he likes me / the little monkey does I see a monkey telling you to come back I see a monkey telling you you got a nice rack the little monkey does / the little monkey loves you the little monkey does / love seeing you like that Like that is happy You strange little monkey You're a strange little monkey You don’t leave enough time, for hangin upside down You strange little monkey You strange little monkey I see a monkey in a tree I don't think that he can see me He's too busy looking at you Cause he loves you / The little monkey does We’ve been through this / The little monkey loves you The little monkey feels so good today / He finally went out with his friends to play The little monkey did / 'Cause he was free the little monkey does / know where he wants to be / and it's with you
I was hanging out in the street Looking for anyone to meet All I really wanted was to talk to someone Someone turned out to be you What I said Who really knew I just had to say something So you wouldn’t leave Oh Champs Elysées / Oh Champs Elysées When the sun is out or in the rain In the afternoon, you can drink champagne There’s anything you’d ever want On Champs Elysées I thought that you looked cool You took me out with some fools Who live to play their music, all through the days So I joined you, and so we went We sang and drank, and drank and danced We never even thought to stop and make out Oh Champs Elysées, Oh Champs Elysées When the sun is out or in the gloom In the morning or, when you can see the moon There’s everything you’d ever want on Champs Elysées Last night, two strangers, now on the street Our hands touch, our eyes meet Two new lovers dizzy from the long night From the Arc de Triomphe, during the Tour de France An orchestra plays with their thousand hands All the birds in the sky, sing for love Aux Champs-Elysées, aux Champs-Elysées Au soleil, sous la pluie, à midi ou à minuit Il y a tout ce que vous voulez aux Champs-Elysées
It’s not about the bacon, it’s not about the eggs It’s about getting drunk in the morning with your friends It’s not about the hashbrowns / Or even the mimzis It’s about talking turkey / Just talkin talkin’ talkin talkin’ turkey Another sunny day, we gotta seize her / Appetizer waffle, just a little teaser Put some avocado on my toast / I don’t need to own a house living on this coast Brunch, Brunch (Brunch) Brunch Brunch Brunch, Brunch, Brunch (Brunch) Brunch Brunch Brunch Brunch Brunch Bullshittin’, over tippin’, the hangover’s cripplin’ / But it’s better than not havin’ one at all Brunch, Brunch (Brunch) Brunch Brunch Brunch, Brunch, Brunch (Brunch) Brunch Brunch Brunch Brunch
We shared another bottle We lost track of the time I made you laugh / You made me smile I thought I’d make you mine I kept my feet close to the ground And kept my own hands clean For you I changed my whole damn life, the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen I knew that you were trouble It just couldn’t end well And when the blade drops on the morrow I'll learn if I’m meant for heaven or hell I found myself knockin’ on a friendly door you were kind enough to give me some gin As the axe fell, before my head rolled I heard myself shouting Kelly O'Quinn
You put your food into a bowl I put mine into a basket So you can rhyme with Joel And I can rhyme with Plaskett They don’t all have to be terrific To make me prolific I make our booze in a still And you put it in a container Just so I can drink with Bill And you can drink with Hader They don’t even have to be good If no one likes it, you can say you’re misunderstood Taste is relative We leave it up to the consumer It’s what makes me an executive What makes me a producer?


Created for the 2021 RPM Challenge


released February 28, 2021

Ian Smith




Executive Producer St. John'S, Newfoundland and Labrador

The side projections of a kalopsia sufferer.

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