Fix

by Adam Balbo

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    19-song LP (2009). Includes 6" x 6" card stock artwork (by Helen Lee) inserted into a soft plastic sleeve.

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about

Recorded April 2009 in Oakland and San Francisco, California. Mixed and mastered by Dave Reep.

credits

released March 7, 2009

Adam Balbo: vocals, acoustic guitar, harmonica, Yamaha beats.

Album art: Helen Lee.

Recorded and mixed by Dave Reep.

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Adam Balbo Oakland, California

Get in touch about anything. adambalbo at gmail dot com

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Track Name: Obligatory Highway Analogy
The highway, yes, the highway is the analogy I will employ to sing about
Love & other stuff, about which you’ll find out soon.
Two thousand, two hundred & forty seven goddamn miles is a long way to drive without the one you love.
Without you in the car with me, the road is just a long-ass strip of cement - with painted lines.
A wicked fucking scar on the proverbial heart of this enormous continent.
Through plains, woods, mountains, &, of course, the desert.
If you’re feeling sad & need an image which will represent your pain,
Picture that barren, empty road, laid & flattened right through your brain.
You’re driving realy fast, windows down, hair blowing, going to the great unknown
Blaring your favorite song, singing along. Where you’re going – who the fuck reallyknows?
An old, reliable comparisons works for me.
That’d be the obligatory highway analogy.
Track Name: Call A Stone A Stone
Call a stone a stone
I just like to hear you talk
In your smelt shop of thought
There’s no material for irony
But that’s ok, we’re hanging around
Figuratively, not literally
It’s not raining in your heart
There’s no rainclouds in your heart

you didn’t have to say, but I knew your day
wasn’t terribly terrific
when I asked you how you were doing
you said, “OK, I guess”
you didn’t need to be
any more specific
you shrugged your shoulders exhaustedly
and said, “What do you feel like eating?”
you were hungry
Track Name: Convenient Dinner
I feel like an individually-wrapped
Piece of processed cheese product
Someone used me to make dinner
But they didn’t take off my plastic wrapper
They just threw me in a big pot
With other pieces of individually-wrapped processed cheese product
And we all melted together
in a gooey mass of plastic and processed cheese product

then someone threw in hard, uncooked, dry macaroni,
mixed it together
and served it for dinner
Track Name: Begging To Differ
dropping heaving ideas from dizzying heights
discarding perspectives of other peoples’ lives
stepping on emotions on the floor in a mess
laughing in the face of earnestness

begging to differ
begging to differ
begging to differ
Nothing to offer

a bag of conclusions wholesale cheap
a list of grievances and reasons to weap
in a furious rage the gavel is thrown
cursing existence; flinging stones

begging to differ
begging to differ
begging to differ
Nothing to offer
Track Name: Oh, My Darling, I Wish You Were Here With Me
Oh my darling, I wish you were hear with me.
Oh my darling, I wish you were hear with me.
Track Name: Just Singing A Song
shaking hands with time
eternity is doing fine
do do do just singing a song
while shaking hands with time

kicking up some dust
in gravity I put my trust
do do do just singing a song
while kicking up some dust

cussing at the wind
an argument no one wins
do do do just singing a song
while cussing at the wind

staring at the sea
it mercifully ignored me
do do do just singing a song
while staring at the sea
Track Name: Self-loathing Song (1)
I’m a shit rag.
I’m worth eight & a-third cents – do the math.
I was dropped behind the
bathroom sink in 2003.
Now I’m a crusty, smelly, discolored, shit-stained rag.
No one cares about me.
My philosophical paradoxes
Are as useful as pee.
I’m a shit rag.
That’s all I’ll ever be.
Track Name: The Girl At My Pity Party
No one showed up for my pity party,
Except for you. And you even brought cake.

It may sound trite to say that you’re thoughtful.
But sometimes what goes without saying needs to be said.

It’s just you and me with a piece of cake each.
We headed out to the balcony.
You sarcastically say to me, “Nice party.”

I joke, “That’s so funny I forgot to laugh.”
As you hand me a cone-shaped paper pity hat.
We talk all night and forget that we’re alone.

No one showed up for my pity party,
Except for you. And you even brought cake.
Track Name: Self-loathing Song (2)
I’m almost completely fucking useless.
Crumple my soul into a wad.
Empty my garbage can of a skull.
Turn my limbs into mulch for your garden.
Track Name: What the Fuck?
Holy shit. Why are you such a dick?
I tried to be nice to you.
But you obviously don’t give a shit.
It’s a shame we coulda been friends,
But you’re too cool for school. So, fuck you.
Man, it’s really too bad. I kinda liked you.

Maybe you didn’t mean it.
But I’ve tried several times to be nice,
But you come across as such a fucking prick.
Track Name: She's My Friend
She’s my friend. No one will ever take her place.
She’s my friend. No one will ever take her place.
She’s been through all the shit I’ve been
And came out the other side clean.
She can say it all with a look or a pause and know what we mean.

She admits she’s wrong and won’t wear out her name.
She admits she’s wrong and won’t wear out her name.
She knows the place where she comes from and questions why and who.
Though she’s lived a privileged life, she won’t lazily package you.

She’s someone who hardly lets me down.
She’s someone who hardly lets me down.
She sweeps away my shallow puddles and listens without a sound.
She’s seen the place where I come from though from another part of the city.

She’s looked in their eyes, right past their curtains.
She’s looked in their eyes, right past their curtains.
She’s shuffled feet with Jacks and Queens and seen scars on diamonds and hearts.
She looks on like she’s in there but doesn’t want any part.
Track Name: Annie
Annie, Annie, damn you’re hot.
I don’t love you, but I like you a lot.

If you were painting, I’d rip you off the wall.
If you were a side of spinach, I’d eat you all gone.
If you were a pair of comfy sweat pants, I’d wear you to bed.
If you were a really good song, I’d get you stuck in my head.

Annie, Annie, damn you’re hot.
I don’t love you, but I like you a lot.

If you were a bottle of whiskey, I’d share you with my friends.
If you were Moby Dick, I’d read you til the end.
If you were iodine, I’d pour you on my wound.
If you were death itself, I’d welcome my own doom.

Annie, Annie, damn you’re hot.
I’d don’t love you, but I like you a lot.
Oh, Annie, Annie, goddamn you’re hot.
I don’t really love you, I just like you a lot.
Track Name: Sunny Day
sunny days. my favorite days. if you don’t em, whatever.
I’m gonna go out and take a walk to the park.
so, I put on my pants and I put on my shoes. and I lock the door behind me.
it’s sunny and bright and warm, just like I expected it to be.
so, I walk downstairs, two flights, onto my alley – it's a small street.
it’s sunny and bright; it’s sunny and bright. yay.
so, I walk down, take a left first to 11th street.
I walk past baked urine.

but it’s a sunny day. a sunny day. my favorite kind of day.
oh I love sunny days.

so I walk over to mission street to catch the 14 bus.
its kinda crowded in the afternoon with mostly Hispanics.
and I pay my dollar fifty that I remembered to get.
ooh. do do do…

it's a sunny day. a sunny day. its my favorite kind of day.
it's a sunny day. a sunny day. its my favorite kind of day.

so I get off around 19th street. it's a good street to get off because its
right between 16th and 23rd.
so I walk west toward Valencia street.

it’s a sunny day. a sunny day. that’s all I really care about.

I take out my patch of tobacco. and I roll a cigarette.

it’s a sunny day. a sunny day. my favorite kind of day.

it’s a sunny day. it’s a sunny day. my favorite kind of day.

once I get to Valencia street I look around self-consciously. people in their
tight pants. people in their bandanas and their hats.
and I look up toward the sky. but I have to close my eyes because it’s too
bright just to look straight at the sun. I feel the warm sun on my face.
it feels really really really really really nice.

it’s a sunny day. a sunny day. my favorite kind of day
it’s a sunny day. a sunny day. my favorite kind of day
Track Name: Sharp As A Horse
Egg on my name.
Toast and shame.
A peacock tail
For a brain.

My heart is shaped
Like a potato.
Dig out my eyes
And boil my roots.

Pour the rain
Out on the page.
Blame the pain for locking
Humor in a cage.

Flattery
in a sandwich wrapper.
Folded dreams in
A plastic sack.

Your voice was
As warm as a corpse.
My tongue was as sharp
As a horse.
Track Name: Tammy's A Nice Girl
Tammy’s a nice girl
Tammy’s a nice girl

She’d kinda pudgy in a cute kinda way.
She’d make me feel relaxed with always something to say.
She’d ask me how I’m doing – I’d say, “OK.”
She would nod her head and talk about her son.

Tammy’s a nice girl.
Tammy’s a nice girl.

She’d sit next to me quietly when we both had stuff to do.
When I would look dejected, she’d say, “Man, what’s up with you?”
She’d crack raunchy jokes and tell me about her career goals.
I’d crack a little smile and say, “Hey, that’s pretty cool.”

Tammy’s a nice girl.
Tammy’s a nice girl.
Track Name: That's Him. He's Your Guy
On Clement street
Under the tacky neon sign
There’s a man with plenty of time
That’s him. He’s your guy

Go on. Go up and talk to him
Just take your tongue from your cheek
He’s smart and cute, funny and he smells ok
That’s him. He’s your guy

Back out on Clement street
Beyond the gawking passers-by
He collects his things and meets your eye
That’s him. He’s your guy
Track Name: Debating A Time Metaphor
Time in a bottle will get stale.
Drink it before the expirations date passes.

Wait, time doesn’t fit in bottles.
Time doesn’t actually expire either.
You can save time or kill it.
People expire. Everyone dies.
People have only so much time to live.
So, if the “bottle” here represents the time each of us have before we die,
I suppose that makes sense.
Fresh time.

Basically, this means “Don’t waste time.”
But why not just say that in the first place?
Why come up with a poetic chorus?
It can put people off or just go over their heads.
People are busy living their lives.
Why do you have to sing and stylize figurative language?

OK, to be fair, it’s a decent metaphor.
Figures of speech are fine for entertainment value
or, at best, temporary inspiration.
But they don’t really help you in everyday life.
Maybe they provide a spark of motivation.
I don’t know.
Maybe I’m being too negative: but who really gives a shit?
Time in a bottle will get stale. Sure.
What do I know?
Track Name: Forget About the Crease
Lying on the bed, not thinking about what you said,
But the fact that you were next to me.
You had forgotten about the crease.
Your back pressed to the sheets.
Your lips were broken.
-
You asked me if I cared
That the blue sky was scared.
I said, “Don’t worry.”
The hair on your back
Lay straight fanned and black
Your eyes were open
-
Your nose was shy.

Talking to you underneath an oblivious moon.
We both were honding
Our hands during that time,
Your fingers curled up in mine.
Our feet were moving.
-
I asked you if you knew
How the yellow sun flew
You said, “That’s funny.”
Your lips and your cheeks
Your bra strap and little knees
Were all rosy red
-
I offered you a drink.
Track Name: The Universe Is All There Is
no opions to brandish no wit to weild
sarcasm surrendered to the giant wheel
no axes to grind no bridges to burn
conviction as certain as the blue dot turns
indifference smiled fate doesn’t care
garner the will to dream to dare

home is rock, fragile like fizz
the universe is all there is

no columns to measure no empire to keep
life is priceless death comes cheap
no anthem to sing no asses to kick
dismantle assumptions brick by brick
scripture is read faith leaps
rituals rot values keep

home is rock, fragile like fizz
the universe is all there is
home is rock, fragile like fizz
the universe is all there is