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    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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1.
God Project 02:37
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 chorus: 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 (chorus)
2.
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
3.
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’
4.
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 chorus: 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
5.
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
6.
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”
7.
Dogmind 02:12
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
8.
History 02:10
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? “No!” (chorus) ‘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
9.
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
10.
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 (chorus) 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
11.
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 chorus: 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.” (chorus) 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.” (chorus) 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
12.
Bail Me Out 03:29
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” chorus: 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 (chorus) 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

about

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

credits

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 Syracuse, New York

In the early '90s, Ekendra toured and recorded with Krishnacore band Shelter. For his first solo CD God Project, he recorded basic tracks himself and collaborated with other instrumentalists via U.S. Mail. Performing Songwriter Magazine voted God Project one of the top DIY albums of the year, calling it, “one of the funniest, infectious slices of country and rockabilly you’re ever likely to hear.” ... more

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