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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    This historic and rare artifact was created on genuine plastic using heavy duty machinery, back in the Golden Era of Tangibility, when music lovers could hold physical objects (known as "discs") in their own two hands, and read lyrics—printed with real ink on real paper—to songs magically imprinted within the plastic of the disc itself. Long thought to be archaic and anachronistic, such CDs have been found to be wholly compatible with even the most modern of disc drives, and are playable on computers, DVD players, and even CD players. The stock of God Project CDs will not last at this irresistible price, so order now, order for friends, be generous, and be happy.

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  • Cassette + Digital Album

    Similar to the God Project CD, strikingly similar to the God Project Cassette, almost exactly the same as the Limited Edition God Project Cassette, and practically identical to the Super-Limited Edition God Project cassette, this Super Super-Limited Edition is so Super because there are hardly any of them at all.

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Suburban New Yorker, smart aleck songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Eric Dailey goes on an extreme spiritual quest, from which he returns as Ekendra Dasa to inform everyone that the Absolute Truth is a Blue Cowboy with a wicked sense of humor Himself.

"One of the funniest, infectious slices of country and rockabilly you're ever likely to hear" —Neil Fagan, Performing Songwriter Magazine


released August 3, 1998

Ekendra Dasa: Vocals, guitars, drums, percussion, harmonica
Tulasi-priya: vocals
Jim Kelley: Fiddle
Mark Komater: banjo
Nathan Bliss Cook: Saxophone



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Ekendra Dasa and the Planet Cow Orchestra St. Augustine, Florida

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Track Name: God Project
Fed up feelin’ two foot small?
Like to feel like twenty foot tall?
Tank it up on ethanol
Hit the deck like cannonball

Got to do somethin’ ‘bout them clothes
Only dead men still wear those
Slap this on, smell like a rose
Shake a leg – gonna decompose


Workin’ on a god project for
tryin to be the center, tryin to be adored
Hope you don’t mind croakin’ on a floor
You get a little less, you pay a little more

Pack of pit bulls on the prowl
G.O.D. on a monogrammed towel
Suck that stogie, pack that bowel
Come back a doggie, grab it and growl

I’ll bet you’re dyin’ to go in style¬—
Deluxe shrine and shiny tile
Twenty-one guns, single file
Maggot gonna go hog wild

Track Name: Puppet On A String
I’m just a puppet on a string
I can’t do anything
I can’t jump, fly, dot an “i”
talk about the weather
pick a peck of pickled peppers or sing
I can’t do anything
I’m only just a puppet on a string

You keep me hangin’ around
And if You ever let me down
I’d be one disowned pile of bone
Better just scatter my ashes
all over the ground
You lettin’ me down would be like a
ghost leavin’ a ghost town

And if You left me all alone,
I’d lie around and moan
Without You liftin’ my lids
and doin’ what You did
I’d be livin in a dead zone
There’d be nobody home,
all of my keepin’ on
would be dead and gone

I’m just a puppet on a string
I can’t do anything
But give me a reason to walk and I’m walkin’
jump, and I’m jumpin’
talk and I’m talkin’
You’re the puppet king
and I’m only just a
puppet on Your string
Track Name: Whole Lotta Nothing
Nobody loves me, nobody cares
My emotional wallet got nothin’ but air
Inside this lonely heart of mine
ain’t nothin’ ’cept for blood

How I wish I could be lovin’
I wish I could care
You say, “Now what’s the matter, baby?”
All you get is a stare
You say, “Come on, show me lovin’”
All I can show you is the door

How can I be gettin’? I ain’t givin’ anything
Ain’t even got enough to give a wife a wedding ring
When it comes to love I got a whole real lot . . .
of nothin’

I’m happy as a clam on a restaurant tray
And I’m watchin’ my friends get taken all away
Oh, but I ain’t got a worry
I ain’t sick or kickin’ yet

I’m all for getting something, givin nothin’ in return
But I’m forgettin’ somethin’, am I ever gonna learn?
When it comes to lovin’
you better give what you wanna get

I’m pavin’ my way to a bitter, bitter end
A Philistine more mean there ain’t never been
When it comes to love, I got a whole real lot . . .
of nothin’
Track Name: (Back-stabbin', Girlie-grabbin', Lyin', Cheatin') Never-do-well
You get a stiff fight tryin’ to fly right when the mind don’t wanna
Might have a better time yankin’ all the cacti out in Arizona
And I been pig-headed, corpse-fed, inebriatin’, fornicatin’
Talkin’ just a bunch of bologna
Lord, straighten me out I’m crooked as the track at Daytona

I had a no-good brain of wood, feet of clay—I was a cheater
Plenty of drinkin’, not much thinkin’ I was livin’ in a theater
And I been TV drunk, filled my head up with junk,
couldn’t get off of the couch a millimeter
Oh, Lord, You gotta help me like You said You would in Bhagavad-Gita


I was a back-stabbin’ girlie-grabbin’ lyin’ cheatin’ never-do-well
I had all my bags packin’ on the night train clackin’ to hell
Where’s my good time? Frustrated! Good sense? Lust ate it!
Ate up all my money as well
I was a back-stabbin’ girlie-grabbin’ lyin’ cheatin’ never-do-well

Lord! Pick me up now, somehow Listen, ’cause I’m waitin’ on Your
doorstep, ringin’ Your bell
No more back-stabbin’ girlie-grabbin’ lyin’ cheatin’
car-jackin’ crack-trackin’ love lackin’ evil-minded unkind and
fault-findin’ never-do well
Track Name: Ache In My Head
He’s gettin the feelin:

like an ache in my head. . .like I wish I was dead
I’m in a terrible condition. . .I’m gonna find a physician

Like a busted gut. . .I don’t want no needle in my butt
Like a pain in my chest. . .I’m feelin like I’m not feelin my best

Well, you miss her when you’re with her
‘cause you think about bein’ without her. . . . I’m sufferin’ and sufferin’

Yeah, you’re thinkin’ ’bout, thinkin’ ’bout,
thinkin’ ’bout, thinkin’ about her. . . . .. . . . . .I’m huntin’ down Bufferin

I wanna jump in front of a train. . . .There ain’t no end to my pain

You’re gettin’ the feelin’:

Like a crick in my neck. . . .I’m a total wreck
Like an inflamed tonsil. . . .Stick me in the oven and call me “Hansel”

Like a cramp on my leg. . . .I must have some kind of plague
I feel like I’m gonna gag. . .What a drag

You never get it and you wish that you could
get it but you never can get it. . . . . . . . . . . . I never get that thing I want

Well, you had it and you lost it and it’s lookin’
like you might as well forget it. . . . . . . . . I only get a lotta things I don’t

And when I think I got a chance. . . . . My picnic goes to the ants

Like a clamp on my brain. . . .I think I’m goin’ insane
Like a hundred and five fever. . . .I’m flappin’ my tail—I think I’m a beaver

I’m a basket case. . . . .Just take a look at my face
Like a lobster claw pinch. . . .Pleasure is hard, man, pain is a cinch
Track Name: I Think I Like It Here
Bye bye, love, my heart’s in pieces
What to do now? God help me, Jesus
Bills comin’ up, and I just can’t pay ‘em
Daily bread? I better start prayin’

Front page news—I’m rapt in fear
No doubt about it—I’m gettin’ outta here
Club Misery and I am a member
All right, God, I give up, I surrender—

Then it lets up a little
It only lets up a little
But when it lets up a little
I think, “I like it here!”

Clock on my life like a mouse on cheese
Can’t slow it down, it’s got me on my knees
Man hatin’ man, nation hatin’ nation
Only good plan is to get salvation

Pol Pots, Holocaust, Rape of Nanking—
Just readin’ about ’em makes my heart sting
One can of worms right after another
Make like a banana—somehow or other

Well ran dry—I can’t remember why
All I ever do is cry and cry
My friends say I’m a barrel of tears
Haven’t had a good time in about nine years

Feel like crud—I can’t suicide
I’d just come back a spud and I’d be fried
Life’s a bear, death ain’t even the end
You get another head of hair and a “try, try again”

Every day’s a visit from the Calamity Commissioner
It’s enough to make a man start chantin’ Hare Krishna
World is weird, yeah, a total mind bender
Somebody stamp me, “Return To Sender”
Track Name: Dogmind
Well, honey, I believe I’m gettin’ myself a chain
Yes, honey, I believe that dog has got the mange
Been rollin’ ’round them painted ladies, skin’s off where it ain’t
supposed to be. I’m gonna call the vet

Check out that fetchin’ fleabag on the fly
Yeah, I see you sniff-sniff-sniffin’ with your eye
One more mesmerizin’ mutt in whole enchilada rut
And I’m waggin’ this one, gonna see about baggin’ that!

Now, you keep chasin’ tail around, gonna wind up in the pound
Now, what the hell am I supposed to do? Spend my life scoopin’ up after you?

Gonna sit down on the front porch, chant myself a sloka
If I don’t, me and Fido ain’t gonna get to no Goloka.

If I don’t keep that chain around, gonna wind up in the pound.
Now, what that hell am I supposed to do—Spend my life scoopin’ up after you?

Gonna sit down on the back porch, chant myself a sloka.
If I don’t, me and Fido ain’t gonna get to no Goloka

Gonna make a beeline out the doghouse door
Ain’t gonna scratch that itchin’ any more
That don’t satisfy desire, that’s spittin’ whiskey on a fire—
it’s gonna come back higher and make you fry!

Yeah, I got to keep my dogmind chained
Track Name: History
I gotta get ahead
See what’s afoot
Before I get dead
and I gotta stay put
I wanna get the lowdown
before I go down
Gotta solve this mystery
before I’m history

Well, time, you’re a big, mean, hungry thing
Eatin’ everything up like a meal
But I’m a nice guy, I got a suit and tie—
Can’t you cut me a deal?


‘Cause like a drop on a leaf, life gonna teeter
I wanna live right,
don’t wanna come back a skeeter

Now I done burned out precious time
on dally, dawdle, and diddle
But I won’t find no peace in my mind
‘til I can crack this riddle
Track Name: Silk Covered Hips
Peel that mask off, scrape that allure
down that hole, let it roll to the sewer
Youth and longevity guaranteed to fail
Just another advertised special in the mail

Silk covered hips, pink colored lips
Oh, what a trip

Prop it up, Penny, now paint that cage
Funeral director gonna get it on the stage
Get it all ready for decomposition
“Dust to dust,” now assume the position

Silk covered hips, pink colored lips
Oh, what a trip

You gotta feed that bird,
otherwise you’re gonna be hurtin’
when the last grain of sand run out
I been all over town chasin’ cages around—
ain’t that what life is about?

Used to win the race, used to have a bird
Now sand in the face, can’t say a word now
Get a new cage, don’t just paint it
Death and old age is such a pain, ain’t it?

Silk covered hips, pink colored lips
Oh, what a trip
Track Name: Maggot Poo Poo
Well, fluff it up, baby you’re a beauty queen
hold in all that “beauty” with a tab of Dramamine
Time is tickin’ baby, better get yourself a clue
‘cause in a very short while it’s gonna be maggot poo-poo

Maggot Poo-Poo Maggot Poo-Poo
It don’t matter what you think or what you say or what you do
Maggot Poo-Poo Maggot Poo-Poo
Yeah, time is gonna make it, gonna make it outta you

Pump it up and gruntin’ buddy— got a big machine
Veins poppin’ on the cover of a rack of magazines
If all you do is eat, sleep, mate and defend
you’re just a tube of doo doo with a smile at one end

Now, buzzard gonna get it
Or maybe luck will let it
be in a crematory barbecue
I ain’t gonna pet it
You can just forget it
Just throw it on the pile
and wait for maggot poo-poo

Lovin’ and a-huggin’, boy you got her in a clinch
Team of wild horses couldn’t pull her off an inch
A little ticker attack and you’re chilly and blue
She’ll be outta the sack before you can say boo
Track Name: Mayavadi Blues
Once upon a time, I elected myself king
Told my pizza chef, “make me one with everything”
then I went out shoppin’ didn’t buy nothin’ at all
I couldn’t tell a t-shirt from a cotton ball
bought a ticket to Topeka but I landed in Duluth.
“All things bein’ equal,” I wish it was the truth


I got the Mayavadi Blues
Yeah, the Mayavadi Blues
You know that I feel like I’m gonna merge
Yeah, it’s all one now, baby
The subject and the object are
one and the same.
Well, they sent me off to college, but it was all in vain.
I asked the teacher, “what is knowledge?”
He told me that there ain’t no knower, no knowin’, no thing bein’ known
I said, “thanks a lot for nothin’ I shoulda just stayed home”
That night, instead of string beans, Mama fed us dirt
She said, “It all comes from the same place, eat your dinner, it won’t hurt.”


My baby said she loved me She called me “honey child”
Then I found out I was just another station on her dial
She said, “It ain’t nothin’ personal. Nothin’ ever is.
I just gotta keep on movin’, gotta follow my bliss.”
I said, “I’m shavin’ my head, I might as well become a monk,
if all I’m gonna get from you is that Mayavadi junk.”


So if you’re feelin’ upset and your feet can’t find the ground
Gettin’ treated like an object? Gettin’ the runaround?
Well, you ain’t the only one— I been there and I’ll attest
It ain’t no fun bein’ an impersonalist
‘Cause if everything is illusion, then I’m only pretend
This ain’t no song and there ain’t no end to my Mayavadi Blues
Track Name: Bail Me Out
In my sights, lookin’ all right, eyes wanna jump right outta my head
Ain’t no good, I know I should sit tight but I get loose instead
Deep dark well, on the way to hell rushed in where wise men never tread
Realized too late and now I got a fate called “better off dead”


Fruitive desirin’ causin’ memory to fail—Suddenly can’t live without
Fool in a whirlpool that I’m stirrin’ as I’m sinkin’
All my warning lights are blinkin’ on Come on down, Lord—bail me out

Stay up nights, nails are what I bite I got to get that crazy car
Forget about that debt, how ‘bout it? Aw, it’s gonna take me far
Turn a blind eye on my big goodbye forget that Golden Avatar
Chum that water, loan shark bait now feathers gonna stick to tar


Thrills that I get here—they don’t come near to what I wanna grab
It’s a Moby Dick, and I’m an Ahab—up a creek, I’m goin’ for rehab
Don’t bark and beg, got two legs got an opposable thumb
Man, a man is what I am and now I wanna act like one