Specs
{{#set:Title=You or a Reasonable Facsimile}}
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title::You or a Reasonable Facsimile
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Notes
The words came first. The last bit (about the rodents) always makes me think about my friend Hilary, so I always say I wrote it about her before I met her. Dave Fawcett played the real drums (the crash cymbal comes through the most clearly); I played and sang (I use the terms lightly) everything else.
I need to post a picture of the guitar I played when recording this. It's an absolutely horrible-looking beast that's almost impossible to play, but something about the way it sounded -- kind of punchy and resonant -- made this song happen. I started playing chords on it, and then I realized that these words went with the rhythm, and suddenly there was a song.
Lyrics
intro
| Em . D . Am . C D
|
| Em . D . Am . C D
|
verse 1
| Em . D . Am . C D |
And so I filled my nose with toothpaste
|
| Em . D . A . . . |
And I proceeded to partake
|
| Am . G . D . . . |
Of your ridiculous iguana
|
| Dm . C G Am . B7 . |
For all the difference it would make
|
verse 2
| Em . D . Am . C D |
You could not know about my toadstools
|
| Em . D . A . . . |
And all the luxury therein
|
| Am . G . D . . . |
I never made you pay attention
|
| Dm . C G Am . G . |
And so you wandered out again
|
interlude
| Dm . F G Am . G .
|
| Dm . F G Am . B7 .
|
verse 3
| Em . D . Am . C D |
You wasted all my extra placemats
|
| Em . D . A . . . |
It did not mean a thing to me
|
| Am . G . D . . . |
You did not notice after zero
|
| Dm . C G Am . B7 . |
Because of your philosophy
|
verse 4
| Em . D . Am . C D |
There were no holes in my begonia
|
| Em . D . A . . . |
We couldn't find a single one
|
| Am . G . D . . . |
You took your bags into the jungle
|
| Dm . C G Am . B7 . |
And pretty soon it had begun
|
verse 5
| Em . D . Am . C D |
I couldn't smell the way you pondered
|
| Em . D . A . . . |
Upon your rusty mandolin
|
| Am . G . D . . . |
You should have known it wasn't easy
|
| Dm . C G Am . G . |
You're playing chess with Gunga Din
|
solo
| Dm . F G Am . G .
|
| Dm . F G Am . G .
|
| Dm . F G Am . G .
|
| Dm . F G Am . B7 .
|
verse 6
| Em . D . Am . C D |
I took my bat back to the garage
|
| Em . D . A . . . |
Where it had been the night before
|
| Am . G . D . . . |
And was it you who took my poncho
|
| Dm . C G Am . B7 . |
And left it on the bedroom door
|
verse 7
| Em . D . Am . C D |
So let me answer this distraction
|
| Em . D . A . . . |
I cannot think what it could be
|
| Am . G . D . . . |
I often think about your rodents
|
| Dm . C G Am |
Would you have done the same for me
|
outro
(hold Am for 8 beats)
| Em . D . Am . C D
|
| Em . D . Am . C D
|
| Em
|
