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Little Gwaii

by Greg McLeod

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1.
Oh Yes I Can 02:20
Another album, so listen, wont you? My name is Greg, I think you know Barack, don't you? At least he helped me write the preface Cause all these words can leave me breathless But he asks the tough questions, like Don't you think you're being A little casual about your future? Fair enough but I don't want to be a looter or polluter I just really want to find a thing that only I can do You can't just sit around like some good-time Charlie waiting for luck to see you through Nah, I've gotta grab with my both hands Don't tell me that I'm crazy Tell me yes we can I want to make your new ringtone So every time I call I'm giving you a fistbump through the phone Help me understand what it is that makes white people so afraid Um, it's getting something good And hoping it won't go away But also being ashamed of having that impulse as well Living life on easy mode, not being able to tell The filth, the noise, and the excess All of it dazzled my senses We were in goddamn Hawaii I'm sipping from a mason jar Blowing out the tiki torches At a local Waikiki bar Freaking out, thinking aloud Wondering what gives me the right To hold out for something that I might really like? Nothing Or so you interject and I reply: You're right and yet if it's an option for me I think I should take it Because the lucky better use it And the plucky better choose to Try their hardest if we're ever gonna change it I hope you make this your ringtone So every time I call I'm giving you a fistbump through the phone I hope you make this your new jam Don't tell me that I'm crazy Tell me yes we can I hope you make this your ringtone So every time I call I'm giving you a fistbump through the phone I hope you make this your new jam Don't tell me that I'm crazy Tell me yes we can And your mother was begging Barack to stop
2.
Friday arrives And we need supplies Our flyers are wise They got the good buys You tape over the mouth On your cigarette packet Whitened teeth Never yellow or blacken Put the 12-pack in your knapsack Get the 20-pack Throw it in the hatchback Sure to get cash back Then you wonder why you binge Why you can't take it slow When your fridge is full of jumbo Tubs from Costco I've got in bulk I've got in plenty If this weekend's Armageddon I'll be ready I'm a get it ready Armageddon ready I can sleep alone, eat alone Work alone, tweet alone But where's my phone? Where's my phone Gimme my phone I can decorate my place With discriminating taste Boutique brands Unique little snowflakes Old friends I don't miss them I got them in the system Pop 'em up onscreen Ghosts in the machine I boast more than Most you know They're just not in town Nah, they're not around, no I've got in bulk I've got in plenty If this weekend's Armageddon I'll be ready I'm a get it ready Armageddon ready Are you coming to show? Why, who's gonna go? It's everyone, you know Everyone you know Who's gonna play? It's every big name There's a hundred stages It's outrageous Whatever you're in the mood for They got it at the food court Fried and hotter No outside water We'll have to use spittle Show me what you brought I said that's a little Have you ever tried a lot? Take the Xanax first 'Til anxiety deserts Then the rest is dessert Then the rest'll be dessert Cause whatever you need There's a line for that But we're pissing in the trees No time for that, time for that, time I've got in bulk I've got in plenty If this weekend's Armageddon I'll be ready I'm a get it ready Armageddon ready
3.
His eyes shift over from the window to the chair Holding off death with a get back stare He says "Sis, it's all right, I won't go gentle into that good night" Well no that's not what he said No one quotes Dylan Thomas in a hospital bed Specially not a kid of 17 Cirles under his eyes, encirled by machines Born with a hole in his heart Sometimes he needs more just for it to start Lately it's been stopping a lot Like stopping a watch, like stopping a clock When you fall down 36 times, Rising up 35 is a pretty good record A pretty good record but the stakes are too high A pretty good record and he's still gonna die Is that fair? What's fair? This is real life No doctor here would dare To put him under the knife, so Back to the room without poetry Big sister at the edge of the bed His eyes flicker upwards hopefully Then you know he whispers he says Do you know CPR? I can feel it in my heart Do you know CPR? Could it really be that hard Do you know CPR? I can feel it in my heart Do you know CPR? Could it really be that hard As virtuous men pass mildly away And whisper to their souls to go Scared young kids who just wanna live Can whisper to their sisters "no" 'Cause this is not John Donne, don't be the one Who watches as his breath expires And if doctors and parents all agree there is No hope then call them liars Rage cause he got nothing like a fair shot But still has the will to fight He's not noble or cowardly, just minutely/hourly Dreaming he'll live the night E.C.G. blinks in the dark Beeping to the beating of a heart E.C.G. whines on a line Supine in a box of pine Not fine, not fine, OK or coming back Sister missed another brother heart attack Dealing is hard when the deck is stacked Holding his chart, feeling so wracked How can she ever be happy enough She got to dodge all of this stuff How can she carry his name around Let little things get her down But every moment is not a gift That's not a long-term way to live She gave her brother's name to her firstborn son Told him just to try and have fun When she needed anaesthesia or took a plane to meet him It was plain that she was numb and afraid Pain that fades with the years is still rattling ears With echo echoes of her brother saying Do you know CPR? I can feel it in my heart Do you know CPR? Could it really be that hard Do you know CPR? I can feel it in my heart Do you know CPR? Could it really be that hard
4.
Kill This 04:30
We were just pulling from a bottle of whisky And we're good friends, so this isn't risky Whistling dixie, feeling frisky Went for a walk and I found a fifty Thirty dollar bottle, feeling thrifty Tiny little lotto, you won with me Not exactly blotto but more than tipsy Hand on the throttle, another sip please If these fingers brush your hand Then they linger, flushed and red Frozen by the chill of frosted glass Momentary thrill, frisson d'la chasse L'ivresse de la poursuite, pis apres quoi? Thrill of the chase, but after that what? J'aime ta face, j'adore ta voix I like what we have, I like it a lot So why can't I pull on the brakes and stop I turn every why into another why not Like I never let an open bottle sit I always gotta offer you the last little bit Why can't I pull on the brakes and stop I turn every why into another why not Like I never let an open bottle sit I always gotta offer you the last little bit, ask Do you wanna kill this? Do you wanna kill this? Do you wanna kill this? Do you wanna kill this? So I sever ties like swatting flies I try not to do it, try to keep them outside Or trap them on the window in a drinking glass Slip a paper underneath and carry them back Sometimes their legs get caught Then they drag but they don't break off Sometimes their wings get squashed The poor things try but they can't take off I let the buzz get to me Everything would be all right if I could let it be But I let the buzz get to me I can't sleep at night with you next to me, or texting me All of your questions scratching an itch Can we be friends with occasional slips Should I revert my brain to a blank Or drain what was left in the tank? So why can't I pull on the brakes and stop I turn every why into another why not Like I never let an open bottle sit I always gotta offer you the last little bit Why can't I pull on the brakes and stop I turn every why into another why not Like I never let an open bottle sit I always gotta offer you the last little bit, ask Do you wanna kill this? Do you wanna kill this? Do you wanna kill this? Do you wanna kill this? No harm, no foul What do I do now? I need a towel in the worst way Sunday Bloody Sunday
5.
Unfriend 04:06
We all grew up playing video games So we know firsthand that cheating is lame Beat your own score cause you play alone Nobody cares, nobody knows Commander Keen, B.A.T. Extra life yeah and every key Walkthrough faster with nowhere to be Walkthrough faster with nowhere to be Just get it done Entertainment's automatic now, so is fun Don't have answers, no, don't even ask Break your life down to a series of tasks And perform them well Make the best thing you had into a living hell Come on face, come on head Come on legs let's get to bed Hit unfollow, hit unfriend Unsubscribe if it just won't end Used to love her never want to see her then Once done click undone again Can't unswallow, can't unsend You decide if the shit won't end Write me in pencil, write me in pen IRL, not pretend My life's sometimes like an unmade bed Slept in, messy, screwed in the head Used to dream, now I just lie around Thinking up ways this could all go down My life's sometimes like a mossy tree Too many branches that nobody sees Not enough sun so they lose their leaves Growing up we become amputees Tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree It's been three long years do you still want me If I don't see a ribbon round the old oak tree I'll stay on the bus, forget about us Tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree Three long years do you still want me If I don't see a ribbon round that old oak tree I'll stay on the bus, forget about us Put the blame on me, blame on me, blame on me Hit unfollow, hit unfriend Unsubscribe if it just won't end Used to love her never want to see her then Once done click undone again Can't unswallow, can't unsend You decide if the shit won't end Write in pencil, write in pen IRL, not pretend
6.
I can't remember how I used to feel I can't remember how I can't remember how I used to feel
7.
I've got two younger brothers, we all played violin Had lessons in succession, we took turns going in Otherwise outside waiting in the car Before I got older and switched to guitar Turn on the radio, flip to sports Music was work and we didn't want more Hockey was poetry in a violent guise Canuckleheads lost or if we're lucky they tied Late nineties, early aughts, not good times Shorty and Tom, long suffering guys They got theirs in 2005 Won the 50-50 in the building, on the air live For me that was life intruding on a fantasy Announcers have to eat, yeah and even feed their families Back from the intermission 20,000 richer Teams switch sides, and how they do paint the picture Right to left on your radio Through your car stereo See it in your mind You could almost feel The shot that teased the twine But then the battery died Bingo bango bongo, his name's Roberto Luongo Better than any veteran we ever got from Toronto Never got caught letting a shot in from the red line Never got mugged instead of getting to practice on time O Captain! My captain! Have him replace Naslund Light a fire, pump his tires, call him a distraction Crush him under the weight of collossal expectations Postgame shows that make me want to change the station Tell a lot about a town by how it treats its team Good times, the bad times, the times in between We got a special soft spot for soft spoken Swedes Unique kind of pessimism that always believes Vancouver's a fragile city, tell us we're pretty Tell us you don't mind all our panhandlers and dirty hippies We'll get them out the way when you come around Pull a Ralph Klein, give 'em bus tickets out of town Right to left on your radio Through your car stereo See it in your mind You could almost feel The shot that teased the twine But then the battery died I played a show in Boston when we lost in game three I didn't wear my jersey it was such a massacree Between you and me, I don't mind we didn't win If that's sacrilege, sacrifice a coach for my sins But the lack of a cup kinda defines me as a person Always striving always diving always trying to be deserving Never certain of my worth, never come away a winner With a sickly sweet smile like poison come to dinner Don't cut parts out for the sake of the picture They're a classy team that maybe might lightly bite your finger Regular guys except like a thousand times richer 6'1", 201 average but they could be bigger And if they win it all, what about next fall? What if it's boring, what if it all seems banal? Like, sure the world moved but my life it didn't change Drove through the tunnel, now the signal's in range Right to left on your radio Through your car stereo See it in your mind You could almost feel The shot that teased the twine But then the battery died
8.
I could've probably started sooner Had a fiddle at the age of four A Kraft dinner box taped to a ruler The strings elastic bands of course You carved one out of wood and splinters Christmas, 1995 For little hands and smaller fingers Even tinier than mine Said the way it works as I get bigger Sizes that I fit will grow Sixteenth, eighth, quarter, half in fractions Coming closer to a whole Far too large for yet another You said there's something I should see Told me it had been your mother's That's great grandmother to me Said she bought it in the twenties The Sears & Roebuck Catalogue You later tried to fix the finish Apparently you did it wrong Because I took it to a luthier After you had passed away He tried to tell me it was ruined But I still play it every day The last concert you attended Was when you started getting sick I played a song I don't remember I think that after that I quit But in the crowd at the recital My mother told me what you said Nothing perfect, nothing final, just "That's the best it's sounded yet" Same face, a second skin The world's smallest violin
9.
SPAM 03:01
Funny thing being out in the woods Normal food doesn't really keep too good The bread's moldy, milk's sour or powder And I can only eat so much canned clam chowder My favourite dinner was corn, rice, and ham Or maybe it was SPAM, you had to drain it from a can And leave the juice somewhere else for the wasps Every day I'd get exactly one can of pop When it was my turn to do the dishes I'd float the bowls in the ocean Feed the fishes while I rinsed them This one time I got distracted, sidetracked They all floated out and I couldn't get them back I tried with the boat hook, I tried throwing rocks At least I could sink them if they weren't going to stop And hopefully get them back when the tide's down Man, I was glad no one else was around But it turns out my family's watching from the cabin I walk back up, they all start laughing I still do the stupidest things sometimes It's nice to know that they don't really mind That it doesn't really matter Nothing ventured, nothing gained Nothing broken, dishes shattered Platter sank, no sink, no TV dinner Just SPAM from a can in the middle of winter Yeah, winter, yeah you know it must have been Otherwise I probably would've jumped right in But January water is particularly frigid Colder than a witch's tit or at least her digits So ditch it, because it doesn't really matter Nothing ventured, nothing gained Nothing broken, dishes shattered Platter sank, no sink, no TV dinner SPAM from a can in the middle of winter Fry it up, we got that minute rice on boil We're down to food that'll never spoil
10.
Kids with ADD will change the world Kids with LLBs will get paid first Kids with SATs can't get the girls Kids with Do Re Mis need dough the worst Kids in LUV that love to flirt Kids with BFFs they want to hurt Kids with OPP who think they're smart Kids with STIs that lie apart Kids with XTC that's mostly speed Kids with SRIs that almost died Kids with GMOs but mouths to feed Kids with KFC and extra fries Kids with DUIs thought they could drive Kids with jets of water, jaws of life Kids are DOA, resuscitate Kids are DOCs, nurse pass the knife We've got soft heads forever But we bash 'em together Kids watch MMA and think they're ninjas Kids with AIDS rob stores with used syringes Kids with RPGs who hope they miss Kids are FML at so much less Kids with GEDs, no time to sleep Kids with CFS that can't get dressed Kids with PhDs, ten year degrees Kids have NHL, three year careers Kids are CEOs at 24 Kids with CGAs count cash for days Kids have IOUs and can't get out Kids are IRS, repossess the house Kids are A.K.A. with several priors Kids are FBI, they're wearin' wiyas On .MOV with known suppliers Kids have APBs out, shoot the tires We've got soft heads forever But we bash 'em together We've got long limbs and stubby fingers Grabbing things out of reach Brave faces, getting bigger Strong chins and chubby cheeks Pink flushes, wrinkled knuckles Peach fuzz and old stubble Fair hair, eyes wide Softheads forever, guys We've got soft heads forever But we bash 'em together

about

This is Greg's fifth album. It's about family and childhood.

credits

released November 1, 2013

Written, performed, and produced by me, Greg McLeod, in my room in Vancouver, BC between June and October, 2013.

Thanks to my family. Photo by Dave McLeod.

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Greg McLeod Vancouver, British Columbia

Greg McLeod is a musician from Vancouver, BC. He made some albums. He may make more.

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