Sap

by Adam Balbo

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about

Recorded, mixed, and mastered in August and September 2013 at The Shed in Oakland, California.

credits

released September 13, 2013

Adam Balbo: vocals, acoutic guitar, harmonica
Mr. Andrew: drums
Sara Lautman: electric bass

Album art: Sara Lautman

Recording, mixing, and mastering: Mr. Andrew, Adam Balbo, and Sara Lautman

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Adam Balbo Oakland, California

Get in touch about anything. adambalbo at gmail dot com

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Track Name: Meo's Shop
MEO’S SHOP

Oh, no. Did no one see it coming?
Most of us oblivious. It now seems obvious and stunning
We were all like children cradled in eachother’s arms
I, for one, was helpless, at the mercy of your charm
These are some things that creep inside my mind at Meo’s shop.

In my line of work, I have to grind my own sausage.
Everywhere I go, I’m always in the office.
In the fog of the culture war, I’m whistling in the trenches.
We dig our heels & throw our weight behind the clunky wheels of justice.
These are some things that occupy my mind at Meo’s shop.

Singed by the furnace when you tempered expectations.
Not everyone was so impressed with your nuanced explanations.
We all just gotta keep pressing on like an alchemists apprentice.
Grind it out & not look back like Arthur and his chalace.
No, I am not ashamed I got a job at Meo’s shop.

Sometimes I might, might forget to tell you.
Oh, you know, the usual: that I’d be useless without you.
Your voice is like a timeless melody inside my head.
It’s the kinda song that haunts the heart regardless what is said.
There’s no one who I’d rather pass the days with that you at Meo’s shop.
Track Name: I Like You Like
I LIKE YOU LIKE …

I like you: like a junky hoardes his junk.
like pepe le pew who thought that cat was a skunk.
I like you.
I like you.
I like you.
I like you.

I like you: like an accountant with his sums.
like a defenseless flower bending toward the sun.
I like you.
I like you.
I like you.
I like you.

I like you: like a dog sniffs out a crotch.
like a sweet old man with his pocket watch.
I like you.
I like you.
I like you.
I like you.

I like you: like baker kneads his bread.
like a fucking song that gets stuck in your head.
I like you.
I like you.
I like you.
I like you.

I like you: like kitty cat with itty bitty paws.
like a stable democracy with rule of law.
I like you.
I like you.
I like you.
I like you.
Track Name: What Are You Doing With Your Life?
WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE?

What are you doing with your life?
That’s no rhetorical question.
Chip in what I fail to mention.
Sketch out your own intentions.
What are you doing with your life?

What are you doing with your life?
The ghosts of hope implore you.
Their pleas with never ever bore you.
Condemned to never ignore you.
What are you doing with your life?

What are you doing with your life?
The dosage may sedate you.
The skeptics will underrate you.
The haters sometimes deflate you.
You wonder: what are they doing with their lives?

What are you doing with your life?
The mob will try to shame you.
The circus will attempt to tame you.
Pull stunts, mislead, & bait you.
You wonder: what are they doing with your lives?

What are you doing with your life?
Half query – half mantra.
You find people out there to help ya.
Collaborate, respect, & trust ya.
Asking: what are you doing with your life?
Track Name: Without You
WITHOUT YOU

It just takes too much energy to smile.
Choked up by the swell of these tears.
I keep on trying to numb all this sadness
With a steady stream of whiskey, weed, & beer.

Now, at first I didn’t believe it
When you said you would be leaving.
Leaving me alone without you.

Then there’s all the talking with these people.
I say “hi”, nod, & joke, then say “goodbye”.
But I don’t even know what they’re saying.
Cuz my mind is all on you tonight.

It’s just too hard to fake.
Not sure I can take it.
Being all alone without you.

Hardest part of all is the nighttime.
Biding time in the prison of my head.
All is quiet. Nothing is stirring.
Wishing in vein you were by my side instead.

I don’t know if I can make it.
I don’t think I’m gonna make it.
Being all alone without you.
I don’t know what can shake this.
I don’t think I’m gonna make it.
Being all alone without you.
Track Name: It's All About the Delivery
IT’S ALL ABOUT THE DELIVERY

Read me the phone book. Kelly blue book.
Angsty teenage gobbledygook.
L. Ron Hubbard’s “Mission Earth”. the screenplay to Ben Hur.
The preface to the 1933 edition of the Oxford English Dictionary.

Cuz it’s all … it’s all … it’s all … it’s all
It’s all about the delivery.

Subject me to a means teast. Reader’s Digest.
The most boring things one might suggest.
Disambiguation. Disclaimers. & Privacy policies.
Preflight safety demonstrations. Esoteric financial wizardry.

Cuz it’s all … it’s all … it’s all … it’s all
It’s all about the delivery.
Cuz it’s all … it’s all … it’s all … it’s all
It’s all about the delivery.

Read me the tax code. List of the popes.
Detailed transcripts of day-time talk shows.
A biochemistry textbook chapter on gluconeogenisis.
The arcane rules & social etiquette laid out in the Book of Leviticus.

Cuz it’s all … it’s all … it’s all … it’s all
It’s all about the delivery.
Cuz it’s all … it’s all … it’s all … it’s all
It’s all about the delivery.
Cuz it’s all … it’s all … it’s all … it’s all
It’s all about the delivery.
Track Name: Fucked Up As It Is
FUCKED UP AS IT IS

You ripped out my still-beating heart.
& took a bite out of it.
You chewed it up & spit it out
& threw it on the ground
& proceeded to stomp on it.
It might seem at first
That it kinda fucking hurt
But, oh, I’m getting used to it.
Fucked up as it is, I admit, oh shit, it’s kinda true
I love to hate you.

In the good old days
We had an unspoken pact
Of mutual assured distruction.
An arrogant prick & a self-righteous bitch,
We were a pair conceived in heaven
By a sick, sad god
With a twisted sense of humor
& a serious mental condition.
Fucked up as it is, I admit, oh shit, it’s kinda true
I love to hate you.
Fucked up as it is, you have to admit, it’s probably true
You love that I bother to hate you.
Track Name: No Clue
NO CLUE

I didn’t need a reason.
That was just me teasing.
I know now that you, like me,
We have no fucking clue.
We have no fucking clue.
We have no fucking clue.
We no longer think the other has a fucking clue.

Someone heard some bullshit
From someone’s bully pulpit.
He was just repeating what
Someone thought they knew.
What someone thought they knew.
What someone thought they knew.
Someone claimed to know why, but they have no fucking clue.

We all have our opinions,
Our masters, & our minions.
But please, dear god, just shut your face
If you have no fucking clue.
If you have no fucking clue
If you have no fucking clue
Someone who was really there just might know more than you.
Track Name: Lucky Guy
LUCKY GUY

Who is that guy who finally caught your eye?
Who said he’d love & care for you until the day he dies?
Who offers up his shoulder whenever you need to cry?
Who? … Who? … Who is that lucky guy?

Who is there in the morning when you first open your eyes?
Who gets to hold you close to him as the sun begins to rise?
Who gets to look, uninterrupted, into those gorgeous eyes?
Who? … Who? … Who is that lucky guy?

I only wish the best for you & heave a heavy sigh.
I don’t pretend to understand all the many reasons why.
All’s I know is I’m not that guy.

Who gets to hold your hand in the waning sunset light?
Who gets to run his fingers gently down your check after a fight?
Who gets to kiss those lips in the still of the night?
Who? … Who? … Who is that lucky guy?
Who? … Who? … Who is that lucky guy?
Track Name: Funny Thinking Back On All That Now
FUNNY THINKING BACK ON ALL THAT NOW

Remember that time when we both got really really high?
We stared into our eyes until we both thought we were gonna die.
Nothing fazed us. Details Hazy.
Both almost went bat-shit crazy.
Funny thinking back on all that now.

Edging right up to the precipice,
Where thought & consciousness abruptly end & meet mental abyss.
Minds were blown. Way past stoned.
We surrendered to the empty, droning tone.
Funny thinking back on all that now.

OD-ing on banana hash muffins.
Watching Bruce Almighty with no way of knowing what was funny.
Jim Carey. Do you have to pee?
Please pinch or punch or stand on me.
Funny thinking back on all that now.

Things went on like that into the night.
Slightly freaky. Avoided tweaking in the creeping morning light.
This is it. That was that.
We crammed the rabbit back in the hat.
Funny thinking back on all that now.


Staring at the ceiling from our bed.
We passed out then woke up. Apparently we were not really dead.
Still kinda high but coming down.
We got pork buns in Chinatown.
Funny thinking back on all that now.
Track Name: What It Means
WHAT IT MEANS

A flash & then darkness too brilliant to see.
A bucket full of universes tossed in the ocean deep.
Nothing & everything simultaneously.
Often times I wonder what it could possibly mean.

I took my query where the river meets the sea.
Countless people doing countless things.
Standing up or on bended knee.
I’ll keep asking around to see if anybondy knows what it means.

Time tried to tell me but his breath stinks.
I’ll inquire with the angels next time I’m on the brink.
I’ll shout to the heavens: “What do you think?”
But try as I might, I might never know what it means.
Track Name: Upside Down
UPSIDE DOWN

A promise is a promise.
Words only sounds.
I can’t wait to see you
When we’re both around.
Oh, I’m sick with it.
I’ve fallen down.
Oh, girl, when I see your face my shit gets flipped upside down.

Banished & forgotten,
Never to be found.
Imprisoned with some angels.
To you, I’m bound.
You crumple with laughter.
I adjust my crown.
Oh, girl, when I see your face my shit gets flipped upside down.

Your dagger & your halo
& your slender gown.
Me with my ambitions strewn
On the ground.
All my dreams & schemes
In a heaping mound.
Oh, girl, when I see your face my shit gets flipped upside down.
Oh, girl, when I see your face my shit gets flipped upside down.

You wash your feet in milk
‘fore you hit the town.
Is there nothing I can offer you?
I’m coming unwound.
You think flesh is weighed in dollars;
Wisdom in pounds?
But, girl, when I see your face my shit gets flipped upside down.
Oh, girl, when I see your face my shit gets flipped upside down.
Track Name: Mad At You
MAD AT YOU

Mad at you. Mad at you.
How could I stay mad at you?
Mad at you. Mad at you.
There’s no way I could stay mad at you?

You flash your eyes and pout your lips.
Your poker face fucks up my shit.
You reduce me to a helpless boy,
Part accident, part wicked ploy.

Mad at you. Mad at you.
How could I stay mad at you?
Mad at you. Mad at you.
There’s no way I could stay mad at you?

You take me to a state of bliss.
I don’t know how I put up with it.
One thing no one can dispute:
You’re so cute. It makes me puke.

Mad at you. Mad at you.
How could I stay mad at you?
Mad at you. Mad at you.
There’s no way I could stay mad at you?
Track Name: Where Did It Go?
WHERE DID IT GO?

One night I got ambitious & wrote down all my thoughts in a song.
On a crisp, clean sheet of paper, I did it, and it didn’t take long.
It was so damn good – or so I thought – that I sang it again and again.
No one was there to listen. I just crammed the fucker in my head.
Where did it go? Where did it go? It was just right here last night.
Where did I put that notepad in which I like to write?

On the following morning, my breathe reeked, and I had a headache.
I went to sing that song again to see if it sucked, or if it was OK.
But I could not find my notepad – near the couch, kitchen, or the bedroom.
I ransacked my own apartment – until I remembered: Oh yeah, the bathroom.
Where did it go? Where did it go? It was just right here last night.
Where did I put that goddamn notepad in which I like to write?

It slowly came to dawn on me. It sent a quick shiver down my spine.
Beyond several burnt out candles, a pipe, & a couple empty bottles of wine.
I gazed into the toilet, where my worst fear was confirmed.
There was a crumpled piece of notepad paper next to a long brown turd.
Where did it go? Where did it go? As if I didn’t know.
Some motherfucker used my lyric sheet in a pinch on the porcelain throne.
Where did it go? Where did it go? I was starting to recall.
Was it really me who used my own lyric sheet to wipe my drunk ass afterall?

Where did it go? Where did it go? As if I didn’t know.
Some motherfucker used my lyric sheet in a pinch on the porcelain throne.
in a pinch on the porcelain.
in a pinch on the porcelain.
in a pinch on the porcelain.
Track Name: In This Here Life
IN THIS HERE LIFE

My name is Adam. I thank you for having me
At your birthday, wedding, leisurely gathering.
If you are hung up, stressed out, fucked up, fed up,
Or thinking of yanking all your pube hair out.
You’re welcome to come, pipe down, just listen.
We’re all just finishing up awkwardly bantering.
In this here life, there are no guarantees.
You’re shit smells, too. So, try not to be mean.

No matter how simple or seemingly teeny,
Our words & our actions are completely meaningless.
No one will serve you a PC subpoena
Or haul you away with the thought police either.
Let rip your brain farts, verbal diarrhea.
Ease up on hyperbole, contrived hysteria.
In this here life, there are no guarantees.
You’re shit smells, too. So, try not to be mean.

Now, I must be leaving. I hope you believe me.
This song’s just an ode to basic human decency.
Brief meditation to exercise empathy.
Plea, nay a challenge, for R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
M.O.s, pet-peeves, beefs, & personal grievances.
These, we all have. It is here we will deal with them.
In this here life, there are no guarantees.
You’re shit smells, too. So, try not to be mean.