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Nigor Mortis Instrumental

Nigor Mortis Instrumental

€13,00

Instrumental version

We felt it unfair trading practice to ask the singer of Nigor Mortis to also be the singer of the instrumentals, and the singer was adamant that evening , “Sorry, dude, but we don’t do no stinking instrumentals, no lyrics, no vocals, as simple as that”. He claimed he couldn’t bring his inspiration to the same songs twice. And no other singers wanted to sing the songs yet because as of yet they hadn’t become ‘hits’. And today’s singers are confused singing a song that has not yet become a hit. So we present to you a project that the vocalist walked out on. Last seen, he was stooped over a bar stool in Milano, heard muttering ominously about fatwa’s, being replaced by a computer voice box, and wanting to organize a mob of percussionists to smash all drum machines. YOU be the singer!

Digital album

looking for single mp3? click here

Track List

1 – O Lovely Gwenita (3:18)
2 – This Town (3:37)
3 – With A Girl Like You (3:44)
4 – I Never Knew How Much (3:39)
5 – At The Crossroads (5:35)
6 – A Wife Knows (3:27)
7 – These Stones (2:51)
8 – If I Just Stay With You (3:39)
9 – Has It Been Too Quiet? (3:27)
10 – Free Me (3:21)
11 – I Don’t Give A Fuck About You (2:57)
12 – Mrs. Gupta (4:19)
13 – Ooh Carolina (3:02)
14 – Family Reunion (1:55)
15 – Where Did The Money Go? (1:50)
16 – Because Youíve Changed (3:18)
17 – Superstar (3:03)
18 – December In The Rain (3:05)
19 – Angel (Not A Saint) (3:00)
20 – What Would You Like? (3:44)
21 – Cowboys & Injuries (2:03)
22 – Priscilla (2:27)
23 – The Lost Highway (3:47)

© 2021 TreeHouse Publishing – All Rights Reserved

Further note: This instrumental presentation is important for me because I can recall being in the U.S. Army in Hanau Germany, where the master Elvis had also been stationed, and sneaking up to the broom closet of the recreation center with a cassette copy of ROD STEWART’S ‘Tonight I’m Yours’ album and locking myself up, taking a push broom and used it as a ‘microphone’ while trying to learn how to sing like the Master Rod and both of our hero’s, Sam Cooke. Therefore with great pleasure I present to tomorrow’s singers a chance to hang out, warm up, gather the spring birds of confidence, and get their mojo rolling. Big up yourself and use these tunes to get the engine of your desire, revved up and ready to take on the entire world, with your fists balled up and waiting for the action. Don’t be shy. And feel free to sample and take, just give credit where it is due and all is well. Bless you, Sananda M !

Everything dedicated to you, all my heroes, family and to the Mrs. Maitreya. Om Mani Christum!

Single Tracks

O Lovely Gwenita

O lovely Gwenita
I’m so happy to meet ‘ya
Because I think I love you
It is not a tangible thing
But if it were a tangerine,
I would eat it
O lovely Gwenita
I’m so happy to meet ‘ya
Because I think I love you
I cradle you into my arms
And label you with all of the charms
Inside me
I look into the Sun
As the sunlight flashes
And look into your eyes
As the moon relaxes
O lovely Gwenita
I’m so happy to meet ‘ya
Because I think I love you
I pour a drink into the glass
Waiting for the moments to pass
‘til I see you
Look into the sun
As the sunlight flashes
Look into your eyes
As the moon relaxes
O lovely Gwenita
I’m so happy to meet ‘ya
Because I think I love you
My sisters are gathered around me
And if they had not come and found me
I’d be floating
O lovely Gwenita
I’m so happy to meet ‘ya
Because I think I love you
(even when people are screaming, I think of you and I am dreaming, instead)

Drums, Bass, Piano, Electric Piano, Strings, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


This Town

I’ve been around
And I waited for the day
When a lover would shine on me
I stood my ground
And I witnessed there
That there were only clouds of despair
And ladies in their mansions, who combed their hair
This town won’t love you
If you pay your taxes on the run
This town won’t love you if you stay
This town won’t love you
Unless you lay your heart out on a plate
And stamp it with an expiration date
This town won’t love you, this town

I ran around

And I played the field
And laid with women who would not yield
Their all to me
So I was confused
All I got was my Springsteen’s bruised
Though I had a lot of fun being used
This town won’t love you
If you pay your taxes on the run
This town won’t love you if you stay
This town won’t love you
Unless you lay your heart out on a plate
And stamp it with an expiration date
This town won’t love, this town
I was a boy
Who became a man
According to nature’s master plan
I was a fool
Who believed in romance
And believed in a 2nd chance
With ladies in their mansions, a slow lap dance
This town won’t love you
If you pay your taxes on the run
This town won’t love you if you stay
This town won’t love you
Unless you lay your heart out on a plate
And stamp it with an expiration date
This town won’t love, I said this town

Drums, Bass, Piano, Keyboards, Horns, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


With A Girl Like You

With a girl like you
And a boy like me
We can sing hallelujah
And share the love
Coming through ya
With a girl like you
And a boy like me
We can dance in the moonlight
And swim the waves of midnight
A girl like you
And a boy like me
I was raised on American streets
Just to let you know
I was raised on chicken and cornbread
Just to let you know
(and I’ve got to let it show)

With a girl like you
And a boy like me
We can follow the rainbow
Then ride until it let go
With a girl like you
And a boy like me
We can swing through the jungle
Until the vines began to crumble
A girl like you
And a boy like me
I was raised on American streets
Just to let you know
I was raised on catfish and greens
Just to let you know
(and I’ve go to let it show)
With a girl like you
And a boy like me
We can sing hallelujah
And share the love coming through ya
With a girl like you
And a boy like me
We can follow the rainbow
And then ride until it let go
A girl like you (you)
And a boy like me
I was raised on American streets
Just to let you know
I was raised on chicken and cornbread
Just to let you know
(and I’ve got to let it show)

Drums, bass, guitars, organ, piano, vocals - Sananda Maitreya
‘Fiddle’ and banjo - Maestro Lucio Fabbri.
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


I Never Knew How Much

I never knew how much I loved you
Until they wrote a song about you!
Hip shaker, party maker,
Candle you handle, my butcher
Be in your baker?
Fist pumping, the needle jumping
Between my heartbeat
And my nerve it rattled something
“Settle down, don’t be so free”
(she’d say) ‘Kiss my Jazz,
I’ll be what I got to be’
Settle down, don’t be so free
I’ll be what I’ve got to be
I never knew how much I loved you
Until they wrote a song about you
The assumption of my function
Is to meet you at the crossroads
Of the junction
Bull masters
Wall street backers
I took some chairs,
And fought the bears
And beat the Packers
Settle down, don’t be so free
Kiss my Jazz, I’ll be what I got to be
Settle down, don’t be so free
I’ll be what I got to be
I never knew how much I loved you
Until they wrote a song about you
Sweet mable, beneath my table
If they can’t kill you with the lance
They’ll use the label
Sensation
Animation
Wake up your nerve
And take the deeper penetration
“Settle down, don’t be so free”
‘Kiss my Jazz, I’ll be what I got to be
Settle down , don’t be so free
I’ll be what I’ve got to be
I never knew how much I loved you
Until they wrote a song about you!

Drums, Bass, Guitars, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


At The Crossroads

Hey, If I’m The One Who Feels It
Then I’ve Got To Be The One Who Deals It
‘Cause I’m Not A Second Chancer
Hey, If I’m The One Who Takes It
Then I’ve Got To Be The One Who Breaks It
But Until I Find My Answers,
I’ll Surround Myself With Dancers…

Of A Certain Kind
Like Most Of Yours
And Some Of Mine
I Hear Thunder In A Mountain Field
At Least That’s What I Feel
And I Must Go And I Must Go Alone
You Can’t Call Me On A Telephone
Who Knows Just What I’ll Find
I May Be Wasting Time

Where I Find Myself
Looking For Some Help
Afraid That I Have To
Face It By Myself
Where I Find Myself
Looking For Some Help
Afraid That I’ll Have To
Face It By Myself

Hey, If I’m The One Who Chases
All The Mirrors That Have Blurred My Faces
Then My Hat’s Off To The Races
Hey, If I’m The One Who’s Tasted
All The Wine And Women That I’ve Wasted
Looking For My Answers
And Surrounded With My Dancers…

Of A Certain Kind
Like Most Of Yours
And Some Of Mine
I Hear Thunder In A Mountain Field
At Least That’s What I Feel
And I Must Go, And I Must Go Alone
You Can’t Call Me On A Telephone
Who Knows Just What I’ll Find
I May Be Wasting Time

Where I Find Myself
Looking For Some Help
Afraid That I’ll Have To
Face It By Myself
Where I Find Myself
Looking For Some Help
Afraid That I’ll Have To
Face It By Myself

Hey, If I Walk Through The Gravel
Of Stones At My Feet As I Travel
Staggering Like A Panther
Hey, If I Walk Through The Valleys
Through The Caravans Of Broken Alleys
Looking For My Answers
I’ll Surround Myself With Dancers…

Of A Certain Kind
Like Most Of Yours
And Some Of Mine
I Hear Thunder In A Mountain Field
At Least That’s What I Feel
And I Must Go, And I Must Go Alone
You Can’t Call Me On A Telephone
Who Knows Just What I’ll Find
I May Be Wasting Time

Where I Find Myself
Looking For Some Help
Afraid That I’ll Have To
Face It By Myself
Where I Find Myself
Looking For Some Help
Afraid That I Have To
Face It By Myself….

Drums, Bass, Guitar, Organ, Piano, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


A Wife Knows

A wife knows
Her man’s pain
A wife knows
Her man’s pain
And she brings out the bitter tears that remain
A wife feels
Her man’s pride
A wife feels
Her man’s pride
And she brings out the best in him by his side
A wife knows
Her man’s pain
A wife knows
Her man’s pain
And she brings out the bitter tears that remain

Drums, Bass, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


These Stones

If you tell me that you’re leaving me
My heart would soon be sad
I’ll grab the pillows from the bed
And I’ll knock these stones against my head
If you turn and walk away
And leave me where I lay
I would just walk out on the ledge
And knock these stones against my head
You say you’re leaving me today
You say that I should walk away
If you leave my arms this way
And climb out of our bed
And just leave me on the wetspot
I’ll knock these stones against my head
If you wave and say goodbye
You will not see me cry
I’ll grab the pillows from our bed
And I’ll knock these stones against my head
You say you’re leaving me today
You say that I should walk away
If you tell me that you’re leaving me
My heart would soon be sad
I’ll grab the pillows from the bed
And I’ll knock these stones against my head
If you turn and walk away
And leave me where I lay
I’ll just walk out on the ledge
And knock these stones against my head
I’ll just walk out on the ledge
And knock these stones against my head

Drums, Bass, Guitar, and Vox , non interruptus - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


If I Just Stay With You (3:39)

If I just stay with you
The dark sky on the horizon
Will open wide and see
The future belongs to me
If I just stay with you
The whispers that were behind me
Will turn to cheers instead
And melt straight into my ears
If I just stay with you
If I just stay with you
If I just stay with you.
If I just stay with you
The heartbeat that I am pumping
Will keep on loving you,
Loving you all or nothing
If I just stay with you
The mountains that are before us
Will turn to stepping stones
Then brick by brick I am home
If I just stay with you
If I just stay with you
If I just stay with you
If I just stay with you
The dark sky on the horizon
Will open wide and see
The future belongs to me
If I just stay with you
If I just stay with you
If I just stay with you
(and blah, blah, blah)

Drums, Bass, Guitar, and Vox non inhibitus - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


Has It Been Too Quiet?

I admit, I’ve been confused
My mind sewn up
My soul abused
I needed time to breathe
To warm my feet
Roll up my sleeves
Now listen up before you leave

I know I asked you for some quiet
But baby, has it been too quiet now?
I know I asked you for some peace
But now it feels like I’ve lost
A piece of me

Back when I knew your name
Before I knew
Your other games
Back when a kiss was all
You needed to
Break your fall
We seldom speak now, if at all

I know I asked you for some quiet
But baby, has it been too quiet now?
I know I asked you for some peace
But now, it feels like I’ve lost
A piece of me

You played me like piano keys
Then broke my heart
By memory
Then beat me like a drum
Dropped your sticks
Then tried to run
We held each other like a gun

I know I asked you for some quiet
But baby, has it been too quiet now?
I know I asked you for some peace
But now, it feels like I’ve lost
A piece of me

Drums, Bass, Piano, Organ,Keyboards, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


Free Me

She drive you crazy
If you’re her baby
Like a red mercedes
(and she will kill your luck with other ladies)

Free me, love me
Free me, love me
Free me, love me
Free me, love me

She rode me like a
A harley biker
I’d always fight her
(and she would scream when I would try to bite her)

Free me, love me
Free me, love me
Free me, love me
Free me, love me

She know no mercy
To reimburse me
For my charity
(and for the time that it takes to rehearse me)

Free me, love me
Free me, love me
Free me, love me
Free me, love me

Drums, Bass, Guitar, Organ, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


I Don’t Give A Fuck About You

She dances with the devil
He keeps her on his level
She was a cold assassin
She could have taught a class in
He was a firebird
She was his dying word
So I wanted her dead
To put a bullet through her head
But I don’t care since she stole my world
And put her footprints over my pearls
So I wanted her dead
To suffocate her on her bed
But I don’t care since she stole my world
And wiped her footprints over my pearls
I don’t give a fuck about you!

She came in like a widow
With spiders on her pillow
She was ‘confusionista’
He was ‘evangelista’
He was a rinpoche
Her feng shui no easy way
So he wanted to drown
But keep his bigger fish around
[Lyrics from: http://www.lyrics.az/sananda-maitreya/-/i-don-apos-t-give-a-fuck-about-you.html]
But I don’t care since she stole my world
And put her footprints over my pearls
It got harder to swim
I sweated so much, my chances slimmed
But I don’t care since she stole my world
And put her footprints over my pearls
I don’t give a fuck about you!

She dances with the devil
He keeps her on his level
She was a cold assassin
She could have taught a class in
He was a firebird
She was his dying word
So I wanted her dead
To put a bullet through her head
And I don’t care since she stole my world
And put her footprints over my pearls
So I wanted her dead
To suffocate her on her bed
But I don’t care since she stole my world
And put her footprints over my pearls

I don’t give a fuck about you!

Drums, Bass, Guitar, Organ, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


Mrs. Gupta

I’m gonna get you girl
I’m gonna knock on your door
I’m gonna get you girl
I’m gonna knock on your door
Because you’re a widow
And you’re gonna need my love
I go to sleep
In silent fear
That my dreams
Won’t find you here
‘Cause I‘ve gotta give my heart to Mrs. Gupta!
I’m gonna get you girl
And I’m gonna tie you down
I’m gonna lay with you
And I want to stay around

I go to sleep
In silent fear
That my dreams
Won’t find you here
‘Cause I’ve gotta give my heart to Mrs. Gupta!
I’m gonna get you girl
I’m gonna knock on your door
I’m gonna get you girl
And I’m gonna knock on your door
Because you’re a widow
And you’re gonna need my love
MRS. GUPTA BE SURE TO REMEMBER THAT OBSTACLES ONLY HELP CLEAR CONFUSION!

Drums, Bass, Guitar, Organ, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


Ooh Carolina

When time, first woke up to begin
You’ve been on my mind since then
(I dream that I’ve already been there)
Friends, lost track of the state I’m in
Drink! Is what they recommend
Ooh Carolina I’m sure
I just wanna love you, for sure
I just wanna love you
Nothing could be finer

Your face strangles tears without a trace
You’d cry if you could find a place
(I dream that I’ve already been there)
Let’s ride, and ramble on the mountainside
You, me, and my fertile pride
Ooh Carolina I’m sure
I just wanna love you for sure
I just wanna love you
Nothing could be finer
Don’t wait, love goes cold if it’s too late
And fades when it depreciates

Ooh Carolina I’m sure
I just wanna love you for sure
I just wanna love you
Nothing could be finer

Drums, Bass, Guitar, Organ, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009

Family Reunion

Listen to the laughing waters rolling down the stream
If the sun would come tomorrow it would be a dream
Because tomorrow a family reunion is taking its place in the park
Tomorrow’s family reunion and it will be there after dark
Children will be running over the clover in the fields
Barbecues and Butterflies are rising on the hill
Because tomorrow a family reunion is taking its place in the park
Tomorrow’s family reunion and it will be there after dark
Porticos in alabaster, the calendar is free
We pray to God that he will bless our humble family tree
Because tomorrow a family reunion is taking its place in the park
Because tomorrow’s a family reunion and it will be there after dark.

Drums, Percussion; Bass, Keyboards, Acoustic Guitars, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


Where Did The Money Go?

Where did all the money go?
Let’s write some crazy rhymes
I’ve got some time from sipping the wine
Crooks and nannies cooking the books
And the dollar bills are fleeing the hills
Where did the money go, Where did all the
Money go? Where did the money go, where
Did all of the money go?
Let’s check the space satellites
Maybe they send it there overnight
Let’s ask the birds in the trees,
They say ‘Gesundheit’, if you can sneeze
Where did the money go, where did all of the money go?
Where did the money go, where did all of the money go?

Let’s ask the cynical man
Maybe he has a financial plan
Let’s keep an eye on your broker
Is he a smoker, a practical joker?
Where did the money go, where did all the money go?
Where did the money go, where did all of the money go?

Tell me, WHERE DID ALL THE MONEY GO?

Drums, Bass, Guitars, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


Because You’ve Changed

The stock market’s fallen today
Because you’ve changed
Because you’ve changed
Because you’ve changed

The cynical life is easy
If you’re living in an easy chair
But if you’re living all your dreams from there
You’ll wake up crying
A horizontal life is easy
If you’re living in an open grave
But if you’re living from the love you save
You’ll end up flying
The stock market’s fallen today
Because you’ve changed
Because you’ve changed
Because you’ve changed
The busses stopped running today
Because you’ve changed
Because you’ve changed
Because you’ve changed
A critical eye can follow
All the meanings of your last mistake
So you must drink the wine
Before they break the empty bottle
A vertical mind will tell you
That you’re wasting all your time alone
But you must dig before you reach
The bone inside your puddle
The stock market’s fallen today
Because you’ve changed
Because you’ve changed
Because you’ve changed
The busses stopped running today
Because you’ve changed
Because you’ve changed
Because you’ve changed

Drums, bass, guitars, piano, organ, percussion, vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


Superstar

Flash back to the early 80’s
You couldn’t even sing
But you were lucky with the ladies
And the magic they bring
They say you didn’t need the money
(BUT YOU ALWAYS NEED THE MONEY!)
But you knew someone who knew someone who knew someone
Superstar
Where did you go where did you go where did you go?
Why did you leave why did you leave why did you leave?
Where did you go where did you go where did you go?
Where did you go?
They say you don’t need the money
(BUT YOU ALWAYS NEED THE MONEY!)
All your hits were written for you
You couldn’t even play
The rumours were, despite your image
That you were gay
They say you didn’t need the money
(BUT YOU ALWAYS NEED THE MONEY!)
But you knew someone who knew someone who knew someone
Superstar
Where did you go where did you go where did you go?
Why did you leave why did you leave why did you leave?
Where did you go where did you go where did you go?
Where did you go?
They say you don’t need the money
(BUT YOU ALWAYS NEED THE MONEY!)

Drums, Bass, Guitar, Organ, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


December In The Rain

Some say it was just pneumonia
That December
But I found my love in California
That December
That December
December in the Rain!
Knocked out by a certain fever
That December
It made of me a true believer
That December
That December
December in the Rain!
These things, they take on
A mind of their own

Swept up off my feet and restless
That December
Now I’m a fool and I couldn’t care less
(since) That December
That December
December in the Rain!
These things, they take on
A mind of their own

Captured by a sudden smile
That December
Blinded for a little while
That December
That December
December in the Rain!

Drums, Bass, Acoustic Guitar, Guitars, Vocals, - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


Angel (Not A Saint)

Fade, fade I do without you woman
I take the long way home when you’re not here
Let me paint a picture for you
I’m an Angel, not a Saint
So put your body on my canvas and paint
So put the real on your feel
When we meet on the hill
And you can slap me if you tell me I can’t
I’m an Angel, not a Saint!
Come and tumble down across my pillow
Come and lay your flesh upon my shadow
And wet the daisies in my meadow
I’m an Angel, not a Saint
So put your body on my canvas and paint
So put the real on your feel
When we meet on the hill
And you can slap me if you tell me I can’t
I’m an Angel, not a Saint!
Settle all your horses in my stables
Your instability is killing me
Let me paint a picture for you
I’m an Angel, not a Saint
So put your body on my canvas and paint
So put the real on your feel
When we meet on the hill
And you can slap me if you tell me I can’t
I’m an Angel, not a Saint!

Drums, bass, guitars, piano, organ, tambourine/percussion, vocals
- Sananda Maitreya
Them funky fiddles - Lucio Fabbri.
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


What Would You Like?

Dorothy and Toto
Went shopping today
They’re shopping a script for
Another new play
Dorothy had moved from
Kansas to Hollywood
Toto was working
As a TV dog
Do Re Mi Fa, Sol La Ti Da
‘What would you like from the people today?’
She told me that was the name of the new play,
‘What would you like from the people today?’
She wishes they could all be happy
She wishes they could all be happy
She wishes they could all be happy

Several directors
Were ‘sneaking a peek’
Several reporters
Already taking a ‘leak’
Here come the agents,
They’ll push it along
Until the footlights
And the little catfights
Re Mi Fa, Sol La Ti Da
‘What would you like from the people today?’
She told me that was the name of the new play,
‘What would you like from the people today?’
She wishes they could all be happy
She wishes they could all be happy
She wishes they could all be happy

Dorothy and Toto
Live in Beverly Hills
Accountants are fighting
Over paying her bills
She’s scheduled appointments
For fixing her nose
She can afford it
‘cause now she’s rolling in
Dough Re Mi Fa, Sol La Ti Da
‘What would you like from the people today?’
She told me that was the name of the new play,
‘What would you like from the people today?’
She wishes they could all be happy
She wishes they could all be happy
She wishes they could all be happy!

Drums, Bass, Keyboards, Percussion, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya .
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


Cowboys & Injuries

Saturday night was the last that I could handle
So I threw her out under her own steam
If you don’t know
If you don’t know
If you don’t know just what I mean
I kicked butt in my boots and a pair of jeans
Her brother was mad so he came to have discussion
Instead he traded words for a concussion
If you don’t know
If you don’t know
If you don’t know just what I mean
I kicked butt in my boots and a pair of jeans
From the corner of my eye I saw a witness
But I convinced him to mind his own business
If you don’t know
If you don’t know
If you don’t know just what I mean
I kicked butt in my boots and a pair of jeans
If you don’t know
If you don’t know
If you don’t know just what I mean
I kicked butt in my boots and a pair of jeans

Drums, Bass, Guitar, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya .
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009

Priscilla

Priscilla, don’t let your dragons fall
Priscilla, don’t let your dragons fall
Or you may lose your way while the light of the day finds the dawn.
Priscilla, don’t let them tie your shoes
Priscilla, don’t let them hold your screws
Because life in the city will laugh at your pity
O!
When she dances it feels like heaven
GO!
And be well, ring your bell, grab your pillars
SO!

Priscilla, don’t let your dragons fall
Priscilla, don’t let your dragons fall
Or you may fade away while the light of the day finds the dawn
Or you may fade away while the light of the day finds the dawn
Priscilla.

Drums, Percussion, Bass, Keyboards, Acoustic Guitar, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009


The Lost Highway

Come on up to Kansas City
And bring the old van with the peace sign
We’ll share a smoke and tell some jokes
And have a real good time
We’ll talk about the old days
And whether our dreams were realized
And we’ll laugh about the stories that
Vandalized our pride
And we will find our way home
On the lost highway
And we will find our way home
On the lost highway
We tried to do the right thing
But sometimes the right thing comes out wrong
We raised some hell, we cracked the bell
And partied all night long
Life is like a snowball
It melts if it’s not rolling on
So pick up your feet
And kick the beat
And rave until it’s gone
And we will find our way home
On the lost highway
And we will find our way home
On the lost highway
Say goodbye to Kansas City
And next time you come stay awhile
‘Cause I know some girls that will rock
Your world and loosen up your smile
Pay attention on the road
And pull over if you have to sleep
Because the yellow lines are full
Of destinations that time don’t always keep
And we will find our way home
On the lost highway
And we will find our way home
On the lost highway
On the lost highway
On the lost highway
Now pay attention on the road!

Drums, Bass, Guitar, Vocals - Sananda Maitreya
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing – 2009

Making Of

Nigor Mortis - Chapter 1
Somewhere between 'Rigor Mortis' and 'Vigor Mortis' lies 'Nigor Mortis'.
"I know what it feels like when the heat comes up,
the hammer comes down and 'Nigor Mortis' sets in".
S.M.
 
 
1) IF I JUST STAY WITH YOU  3:40
Drums, Bass, Guitar, and Vox non inhibitus- S.M.
 
If I just stay with you
The dark sky on the horizon 
Will open wide and see
The future belongs to me
If I just stay with you
The whispers that were behind me
Will turn to cheers instead
And melt straight into my ears
If I just stay with you
If I just stay with you
If I just stay with you.
 
If I just stay with you
The heartbeat that I am pumping
Will keep on loving you,
Loving you all or nothing
If I just stay with you
The mountains that are before us
Will turn to stepping stones
Then brick by brick I am home
If I just stay with you
If I just stay with you
If I just stay with you
 
If I just stay with you
The dark sky on the horizon
Will open wide and see
The future belongs to me
If I just stay with you
If I just stay with you
If I just stay with you
(and blah, blah, blah)
 
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing
 
 
 
2) THESE STONES  2:56
Drums, Bass, Guitar, and Vox , non interruptus- S.M.
 
If you tell me that you're leaving me
My heart would soon be sad
I'll grab the pillows from the bed
And knock these stones against my head
If you turn and walk away
And leave me where I lay
I would just walk out on the ledge
And knock these stones against my head
 
You say you're leaving me today
You say that I should walk away
 
If you leave my arms this way
And climb out of our bed
And just leave me on the wetspot
I'll knock these stones against my head
If you wave and say goodbye
You will not see me cry
I'll grab the pillows from our bed
And knock these stones against my head
 
You say you're leaving me today
You say that I should walk away
 
If you tell me that you're leaving me
My heart would soon be sad
I'll grab the pillows from the bed
And knock these stones against my head
If you turn and walk away
And leave me where I lay
I'll just walk out on the ledge
And knock these stones against my head
I'll just walk out on the ledge
And knock these stones against my head
 
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing.
 
 
 
 
 
3) THE LOST HIGHWAY 3:55
Drums, Bass, Guitar and Vox populi- S.M.
 
Come on up to Kansas City
And bring the old van with the peace sign
We'll share a smoke and tell some jokes
And have a real good time
We'll talk about the old days
And whether our dreams were realized
And we'll laugh about the stories that
Vandalized our pride
And we will find our way home
On the lost highway
And we will find our way home 
On the lost highway
 
We tried to do the right thing
But sometimes the right thing comes out wrong
We raised some hell, we cracked the bell
And partied all night long
Life is like a snowball
It melts if it's not rolling on
So pick up your feet
And kick the beat
And rave until it's gone
And we will find our way home
On the lost highway
And we will find our way home
On the lost highway
 
Say goodbye to Kansas City
And next time you come stay awhile
'Cause I know some girls that will rock 
Your world and loosen up your smile
Pay attention on the road
And pull over if you have to sleep
Because the yellow lines are full
Of destinations that time don't always keep
And we will find our way home
On the lost highway
And we will find our way home
On the lost highway
On the lost highway
On the lost highway
 
Now pay attention on the road!
 
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing
 
 
 
4) A WIFE KNOWS 3:25
Drums, Bass, Vocals- S.M.
 
A wife knows
Her man's pain
A wife knows 
Her man's pain
And she brings out the bitter tears that remain
 
A wife feels
Her man's pride
A wife feels
Her man's pride
And she brings out the best in him by his side
 
A wife knows
Her man's pain
A wife knows
Her man's pain
And she brings out the bitter tears that remain
 
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing
 
 
 
5) COWBOYS & INJURIES 2:09
Drums, Bass, Guitar, and Tonsils- S.M.
 
Saturday night was the last that I could handle
So I threw her out under her own steam
If you don't know
If you don't know 
If you don't know just what I mean
I kicked butt in my boots and a pair of jeans
 
Her brother was mad so he came to have discussion
Instead he traded words for a concussion
If you don't know
If you don't know 
If you don't know just what I mean
I kicked butt in my boots and a pair of jeans
 
From the corner of my eye I saw a witness
But I convinced him to mind his own business
If you don't know 
If you don't know 
If you don't know just what I mean
I kicked butt in my boots and a pair of jeans
If you don't know 
If you don't know 
If you don't know just what I mean
I kicked butt in my boots and a pair of jeans
 
Words and Music by Maitreya, Sananda, for TreeHouse Publishing, Milano. Thank you for your time and attention, it has healed my heart
 
We were blessed by time and circumstance to have played Yamaha drums, for which we thank young maestro Sergenio, UFIP and Paiste cymbals. We thank young Master Nik Taccori, 'The Stiks', for the use of his snare (he insisted!). We were grateful to have had the use of my MATCHLESS amp, and MARSHALL Head, our SHURE microphone, and my Light Blue Fender Jazz bass. All guitars used during the sessions were various Fender Stratocasters that time and spirit have blessed me to use, honour and cherish. Molto Thanks to Enea 'Il Conte' Bardi, and Matteo Sandri for their able assistance and charitable attitudes towards the sessions and their realization. We also thank 'FAUSTO'S Bar for the food and the Milanese hospitality. FORZE JUVE! We also thank Frances Darby for whatever I inherited of my dogged persistence and singular determination.
We would finally like to thank my wife Francesca Francone Maitreya for demonstrating consistently, the values and virtues of a living Goddess. Last but not least, we thank, extensively, our dedicated staff, and our web dominatrix, St. Lilian of Amsterdam. SM
 
All songs written, produced, arranged and performed by SANANDA FRANCESCO MAITREYA, for TreeHouse Publishing and eternity. Recorded entirely in GRAN GRAN studios, Milano Italy, between September 17 - 29 in the year of our lord 2007.
 
Gratitudes to the various monks who remember us in their prayers (Ciao Don Giorgio!), and to my faithful boon companions Luther Means and Victor Spoils. We would also like to thank the record industry for the sensibilities that I did inherit from my trials and tribulations. All's well that ends well! We would lastly like to thank the unsung workers of 'Afghanistan' and 'Morocco'.
 
Photos and graphics by Frame Flame Architects
 
NIGOR MORTIS - CHAPTER I
 
'Dying is Easy' (it is convincing your creditors that you are dead that is hard). I do not believe in 'Coincidence', but as 'The Police' brought to our attentions, 'Synchronicity'. The original title of the project was meant to be called 'Othello', but then a film of the title came out. Although we'd announced our 'Angels& Vampires' project roughly a year before author Dan Browns' 'Angels and Demons', we were in fact encouraged by the convergence of events, and felt it to be a good omen. About a week after writing/receiving the song 'The Lost Highway', we read that the venerable Bon Jovi had a project called 'Lost Highway'. I guess the gentlemen of this Hall of Fame bound group are also Hank Williams admirers as am I. It doesn't matter, life touches and inspires us all, if we are sincere. Chapter 1 of 'Nigor Mortis' is dedicated to my 'Nigors' everywhere, no matter what tribe or complexion of skin tone you were assigned. We know each other by feel. We love each other by instinct. Dylan was a 'Nigor', Jim Morrison was, Hendrix was, Cobain was. Who carries a love for humanity bigger than their logic is one. Look up 'NAGA' and we'll be closer to understanding one another. By the way, my wife is a big fan of BON JOVI, and we wish them well. We also wish you and your spirit well, for all of the days of your life. Now, don't forget, pay attention on the road, choo-choo!
 
Sananda Maitreya, Ph.D in Hubristic Studies.
Nigor Mortis - Chapter 2
6)WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE  3:44
(FROM THE PEOPLE TODAY)
Drums, Bass, Keyboards, Percussion, Vocal: SM
 
Dorothy and Toto 
Went shopping today 
They’re shopping a script for 
Another new play 
Dorothy had moved from 
Kansas to Hollywood 
Toto was working 
As a TV dog 
Do Re Mi Fa, Sol La Ti Da
 
‘What would you like from the people today?’ 
She told me that was the name of the new play, 
‘What would you like from the people today?’ 
She wishes they could all be happy 
She wishes they could all be happy 
She wishes they could all be happy 
 
Several directors 
Were ‘sneaking a peek’ 
Several reporters 
Already taking a ‘leak’ 
Here come the agents, 
They’ll move it along 
Until the footlights 
And the little catfights 
Re Mi Fa, Sol La Ti Da
 
‘What would you like from the people today?’ 
She told me that was the name of the new play, 
‘What would you like from the people today?’ 
She wishes they could all be happy 
She wishes they could all be happy 
She wishes they could all be happy 
 
Dorothy and Toto 
Live in Beverly Hills 
Accountants are fighting 
Over paying her bills 
She’s scheduled appointments 
For fixing her nose 
She can afford it 
‘cause now she’s rolling in 
Dough Re Mi Fa, Sol La Ti Da
 
‘What would you like from the people today?’ 
She told me that was the name of the new play, 
‘What would you like from the people today?’ 
She wishes they could all be happy 
She wishes they could all be happy 
She wishes they could all be happy!
 
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing
 
 
 
7) PRISCILLA DON'T LET YOUR DRAGONS FALL  2:36
Drums, Percussion, Bass, Keyboards, Acoustic Guitar, Vocal: SM
 
Priscilla, don’t let your dragons fall 
Priscilla, don’t let your dragons fall 
Or you may lose your way while the light of the day finds the dawn.
 
Priscilla, don’t let them tie your shoes 
Priscilla, don’t let them hold your screws 
Because life in the city will laugh at your pity
 
O! 
When she dances it feels like heaven 
GO! 
And be well, ring your bell, grab your pillars 
SO! 
 
Priscilla, don’t let your dragons fall 
Priscilla, don’t let your dragons fall 
Or you may fade away while the light of the day finds the dawn 
Or you may fade away while the light of the day finds the dawn 
Priscilla.
 
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing.
 
 
 
8) FAMILY REUNION 2:00
Drums, Percussion; Bass, Keyboards, Acoustic Guitars Vocal: SM
 
Listen to the laughing waters rolling down the stream 
If the sun would come tomorrow it would be a dream 
Because tomorrow a family reunion is taking its place in the park 
Because tomorrow’s a family reunion and it will be there after dark
 
Children will be running over the clover in the fields 
Barbecues and Butterflies are rising on the hill 
Because tomorrow a family reunion is taking its place in the park 
Because tomorrow’s a family reunion and it will be there after dark
 
Porticos in alabaster, the calendar is free 
We pray to God that he will bless our humble family tree 
Because tomorrow a family reunion is taking its place in the park
Because tomorrow’s a family reunion and it will be there after dark.
 
Words and Music - Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing
 
NIGOR MORTIS CHAPTER 2
 
Instruments used were Yamaha drums, Kurzweil keyboards, Latin Percussion, Fender Jazz bass, Musser acoustic guitar, circa ’87. I can’t remember about mics and stuff, that’s Enea’s and Matteo’s scene, God bless them. The songs were recorded by Enea ‘Il Conte’ Bardi and Matteo ‘Sergente’ Sandri during the week of 21 Jan - 26 Jan 08 at ‘Gran Gran’ studio.
 
Mix engineer was shared by the 2 aforementioned gentlemen, and the 3 of us ‘mixed’ it and rendered it available for the later probable process of ‘mastering’, once we arrive, at end of project to that delicious point. We hope to have entertained you with these selections, meant to be more in number but for a ‘faulty piece of equipment’, which decided to, after years of loyal service to my cause, retire in the middle of the sessions. We salute it and vigorously, We salute you. I would like to thank Enea and Matteo for their vibes and support during the week of these recordings. I would like to thank my wife for her friendship and positive spirit. Finally, I would like to thank the person or group thereof, who invented Mp3. O yeah, and God too, just in case Christopher Hitchens is wrong.
 
it felt somewhat appropriate for a chapter to be titled; ‘Neutered & Spade’, then be itself cut short (the recording sessions) by ‘failing’ equipment. Thereby being ‘cut short’, the sessions were neutered. Enjoy!
 
The panther knew that there was no such thing as a black panther really, just a leopard with its dense spots all connected. It needed them to remain poised and still in the shadows. It also knew succinctly that if it turned itself back in to the circus, it would have its balls cut off. It would have to. How do you explain an attack by a panther on a crowd with its balls intact to the insurance company? He shrugged. It took quite a long season or 3 to grow the current set of ‘cojones’, once lost to a vicious and mean blade, attached to a carnival barkers desire, a ticket seller’s greed. Those branded circus days were now a memory. He could not be neutered and spayed for any cause, he ceased being a dark leopard, he’d be but a limbic stuffed animal with a ‘reputation’. He could never digest food he didn’t have to chase, nor could he ever lick a beggar’s hand. Animals could count out their days in the circus. In the jungle there are no days, most certainly no guarantees. What there is, is the one long relentless day and the ever restless, stirring night. What one finds, when one finds, they find all of it, not just suggestions or portions of it, but the sum of it, the source of it, the total life of it. The circus wheels and deals, while the jungle, forged by nuance, either subtly or soundly, takes or gives.
 
Just to remind you, Panthers never wore pants, neither do ants.
 
This chapter 2 of ‘NM’; ‘Neutered & Spade’, is dedicated to a boyhood/lifetime Hero, Muhammed Ali. Also dedicated to the Great Maestro Rod Stewart!
Nigor Mortis - Chapter 3
09) WITH A GIRL LIKE YOU  3:48
 
With a girl like you 
And a boy like me 
I can sing hallelujah 
And share the love 
Coming through ya 
With a girl like you 
And a boy like me 
We can dance in the moonlight 
And swim the waves of midnight 
A girl like you 
And a boy like me
 
I was raised on American streets 
Just to let you know 
I was raised on chicken and cornbread 
Just to let you know 
(and I’ve got to let it show) 
 
With a girl like you 
And a boy like me 
We can follow the rainbow 
And ride until it let go 
With a girl like you 
And a boy like me 
We can swing through the jungle 
Until the vines began to crumble 
A girl like you 
And a boy like me
 
I was raised on American streets 
Just to let you know 
I was raised on catfish and greens 
Just to let you know 
(and I’ve go to let it show)
 
With a girl like you 
And a boy like me 
I can sing hallelujah 
And share the love coming through ya 
With a girl like you 
And a boy like me 
We can dance in the moonlight 
And swim the waves of midnight 
A girl like you (you) 
And a boy like me
 
I was raised on American streets 
Just to let you know 
I was raised on chicken and cornbread 
Just to let you know 
(and I’ve got to let it show)
 
Drums, bass, guitars, organ, piano, vocals: Sananda Maitreya
‘Fiddle’ and banjo: Maestro Lucio Fabbri!
 
 
10) BECAUSE YOU'VE CHANGED  3:33
 
The stock market’s fallen today 
Because you’ve changed 
Because you’ve changed 
Because you’ve changed 
 
The cynical life is easy 
If you’re living in an easy chair 
But if you’re living all your dreams from there 
You’ll wake up crying 
A horizontal life is easy 
If you’re living in an open grave 
But if you’re living from the love you save 
You’ll end up flying
 
The stock market’s fallen today 
Because you’ve changed 
Because you’ve changed 
Because you’ve changed 
The busses stopped running today 
Because you’ve changed 
Because you’ve changed 
Because you’ve changed
 
A critical eye can follow 
All the meanings of your last mistake 
So you must drink the wine 
Before they break the empty bottle 
A vertical mind will tell you 
That you’re wasting all your time alone 
But you must dig before you reach 
The bone inside your puddle
 
The stock market’s fallen today
Because you’ve changed 
Because you’ve changed 
Because you’ve changed 
The busses stopped running today 
Because you’ve changed 
Because you’ve changed 
Because you’ve changed
 
Drums, bass, guitars, piano, organ, percussion, vocals: SM 
 
 
11) 00H CAROLINA  3:12
 
When time, first woke up to begin 
You’ve been on my mind since then 
(I dream that I’ve already been there) 
Friends, lost track of the shape I was in 
Drink! Is what they recommend
 
Ooh Carolina I’m sure
I just wanna love you, for sure 
I just wanna love you 
Nothing could be finer 
 
Your face strangles tears without a trace 
You’d cry if you could find a place 
(I dream that I’ve already been there) 
Let’s ride, and ramble on the mountainside 
You, me, and my fertile pride
 
Ooh Carolina I’m sure 
I just wanna love you for sure 
I just wanna love you 
Nothing could be finer
 
Don’t wait, love goes cold if it’s too late 
And fades when it depreciates 
 
Ooh Carolina I’m sure 
I just wanna love you for sure 
I just wanna love you 
Nothing could be finer
 
All instruments and vocal: SM
 
 
12) SUPERSTAR  3:03
 
Flash back to the early 80’s 
You couldn’t even sing 
But you were lucky with the ladies 
And the magic they bring 
They say you didn’t need the money 
(BUT YOU ALWAYS NEED THE MONEY!) 
But you knew someone who knew someone who knew someone
 
Superstar 
Where did you go where did you go where did you go? 
Why did you leave why did you leave why did you leave? 
Where did you go where did you go where did you go? 
Where did you go? 
They say you don’t need the money 
(BUT YOU ALWAYS NEED THE MONEY!)
 
All your hits were written for you 
You couldn’t even play 
The rumours were, despite your image 
That you were gay 
They say you didn’t need the money 
(BUT YOU ALWAYS NEED THE MONEY!) 
But you knew someone who knew someone who knew someone
 
Superstar 
Where did you go where did you go where did you go? 
Why did you leave why did you leave why did you leave? 
Where did you go where did you go where did you go? 
Where did you go? 
They say you don’t need the money 
(BUT YOU ALWAYS NEED THE MONEY!)
 
ALL INSTRUMENTS and vocals: SM 
 
 
13) ANGEL (NOT A SAINT)  2:58
 
Fade, fade I do without you woman 
I take the long way home when you’re not here 
Let me paint a picture for you 
I’m an Angel, not a Saint
 
So put your body on my canvas and paint 
So put the real on your feel 
When we meet on the hill 
And you can slap me if you tell me I can’t 
I’m an Angel, not a Saint!
 
Come and tumble down across my pillow 
Come and lay your flesh upon my shadow 
And wet the daisies in my meadow
 
I’m an Angel, not a Saint 
So put your body on my canvas and paint 
So put the real on your feel 
When we meet on the hill 
And you can slap me if you tell me I can’t 
I’m an Angel, not a Saint!
 
Settle all your horses in my stables 
Your instability is killing me 
Let me paint a picture for you
 
I’m an Angel, not a Saint 
So put your body on my canvas and paint 
So put the real on your feel 
When we meet on the hill 
And you can slap me if you tell me I can’t 
I’m an Angel, not a Saint!
 
Drums, bass, guitars, piano, organ, tambourine/percussion, vocals: SM 
Them funky fiddles: Lucio Fabbri!
 
NIGOR MORTIS CHAPTER 3
PUSSY FOR PERJURY (SONGS FROM AN AMERICA GRAVE)
 
Songs-
 
...• ‘WITH A GIRL LIKE YOU’
...• ‘BECAUSE YOU’VE CHANGED’
...• ‘OOH CAROLINA’
...• ‘SUPERSTAR’
...• ‘ANGEL (NOT A SAINT)’
 
All songs Produced, Written, Performed, and Arranged by Sananda Maitreya for TreeHouse Publishing. Assisting the recordings as Engineer was Matteo Sandri, also assisting were Giorgio Bau’. Sexing up songs 1 and 5 is the very capable maestro Lucio Fabbri, who we were very fortunate to have worked with, a fine gentleman is he, a wonderful musician (who plays all of the various ‘bluegrass’ instruments), composer, conductor, producer as well. He played the ‘fiddle’ (violin) in songs 1 and 5, and the banjo in song 1. I also used the maestro Fabbri as an excuse to purchase my first banjo, which I’d been threatening to buy for years. We recorded all songs in Casa Logic studios during 12 days between 14 April- 30 April. 
Yamaha drums were used, Ufip and Paiste cymbals, Gretsch snare, Fender Jazz bass, Marshall 1960 Lead amp, Roland Vk-8 Organ, Bruder and Sohn upright piano, Fender banjo, and Gibson ‘Lucille’ guitar. We used ‘Elixir’ strings for guitar. The songs were recorded by Matteo ‘Sergente’ Sandri, and mixed by SM and Matteo Sandri. When an SM works with an MS, good things can happen, if not dyslexic confusion.
 
This chapter of ‘Nigor Mortis’ would like to thank the contributions of the various influences making their psychic presence felt on these recordings/offerings, all in their own ways, unique to each, heroes/heroines:
 
Hank Williams, Willie Nelson, Stephen Foster, Patsy Cline, Loretta Lynn, Aretha Franklin, Frances Darby, Neil Diamond, Smokey Robinson, Sam Cooke, Charlie Pride, Dwight Yoakum, Nile Rodgers, Mavis Staples, Patty LaBelle, Bob Dylan, the Rev. Al Green, Dolly Parton, Kris Kristofferson, Mac Davis, Lionel Richie, Snoop Dog, R.E.M. and last but not least, Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland. 
I would also like to thank the middle school I attended in DeLand Florida, Southwestern, for the square dancing classes. As well thanks to my God, which I call every day by a different name, and to my best friend, wife and apologist Francesca Francone Maitreya.
 
I would also like to thank my Uncle Earl from Daytona Beach Florida, Rev. Earl Kelly, for the time when he advised me over 20 years ago to “Give your dream 10 years, and if it don’t work out, you will never look back and wonder”. He could’ve given me some easy or lazy advice, but thank God, he didn’t. From the well of my heart, I would really like to thank him, he added to the confidence I had in myself and desires. His wife, my Aunt Cuda, I also thank for her ever warm sincerity and for being so cute and friendly.
 
Once upon a time, before huge corporate consolidation, songs were written not as much for categories and demographics, but for people, their moods, their ways, their means. Songs grew as extensions of who the writers were, and not only according to ‘prevailing quarterly trends’. Of all the various descriptions bandied about where my music is concerned, I consider myself, as much as anything and above all, an American songwriter, nothing more complicated than that. I grew up spending a considerable amount of time in the American south, an area fertile with the miscegenation of essential threads of American/World music. I grew up around blues, jazz, Dixieland jazz, Texas swing, swamp rock, country gospel, gospel, choir gospel, quartet gospel, hillbilly bluegrass, r&b, the works, I grew up hearing rhythm sections composed of just ‘washboard and bass drum’, harmonicas and accordions, and grew up with the ‘steel guitar’ as much a soundtrack to my existence as a bass guitar, and since until the age of 16 I were ‘forbidden’ from listening to anything but ‘family approved music’. The only radio station I was allowed to listen to was a country station, which we listened to only around news time, in order not to miss the news which my step-father favoured. Even ?Soultrain’, and ‘American Bandstand’ were out of my reach until well after puberty. The only music TV shows we were able to watch without fear of reprisal or censure were ‘Hee Haw’, a country variety show (and a big musical influence on me), and for a spell, ‘The Johnny Cash and June Carter show’. I took what the times gave me. These songs reflect a past that we can now express without fear of political censor, or group think rejection. Without fear of how to market such music, we can just make it and leave you to judge its sincerity and effect. Post Millennium Rock is determined to be the truth, the whole truth of what we are, and has gotten us this far. We are of mixed heritage, naturally and proudly, our music will be as well. In the light of truth before God, I swear that at this point in my life especially, I would much rather die, outright, than to forfeit the unfettered music of my spirit, I will leave the debate to others to determine which demographic grave to bury the songs in. It’s ‘PMR’ to be sure, yet above all, it is simple American music, without shame or apology, made by a boy like me. We hope that you enjoy these ‘hybrid’ offerings which comprise ‘Pussy For Perjury!’.
 
 
RELEVANT REVELATIONS
 
I can recall, in the year of our memory 1987, being invited over from England to appear on the ‘Dolly Parton’ show, taped at the time in Los Angeles. Growing up in the south during my era of sojourn there, Dolly was revered as not only a singer, but as a songwriter. I still remember her as a musical partner of Porter Waggoner! Fresh off the plane from London, I met Miss Parton, and she couldn’t have been sweeter or more real, and THOSE breasts couldn’t have been more distracting (and bounteously so). Being a well raised ‘southern boy’, I kept my eyes on her eyes, and my mind on her words, welcoming, warm and tender. Her advice was sound, well considered, and generous and she seemed genuinely happy to have me on her show. Having been a fan before, I became an even bigger admirer afterwards. I recall us speaking of our mutual heroes in both ‘hillbilly’ and ‘gospel’ music. We send our sincere best wishes to her, and ask our lord to favour her heart with graces.
 
I also recall in the same year, staggering (albeit elegantly darlings) down the streets late at night in the fine fair city of Amsterdam and growing larger in the dampening distance, approaching, was the startling image of a cowboy coming towards me, oddly out of place there, yet strangely and welcomingly familiar. My neck strained to discretely ascertain who the fuck this cowboy was in Amsterdam at this late juncture of night, as if I, a mulatto had the right to travel and surprise the world, but not a cowboy, not a redneck. As it turned out, it was none other than Dwight Yoakum, himself introducing himself to the world as himself (more or less I suppose). We instantly recognized one another, formed an instant Amsterdam buddy society, and got even more drunk and stoned than we were before running into each other. Only the CIA could get me to reveal how the rest of the evening turned out, suffice to say that not much can be said about the parrot, the Jimmy Buffet impersonator, and the 3 strippers (not to mention his manager who I am not sure either of us ever saw after that). Fast forward a few years later, and I run into Dwight at the car wash in L.A., both of us devoted Jaguar drivers, both same model, same year. During the swapping of some southern bullshit tall tale ‘my dick is bigger than your dick stories’, he said to me earnestly, “Don’t forget your southern roots”. We hung out for a while, double dated, then lost contact in the way that is even more unique to people living in a town like L.A. Life takes over, shit happens. International or not, I am at heart a southern boy. This is a reach out to my old friends, thank you for having been my friend.
 
 ‘Nigor Mortis’ 
CHAPTER 3 ‘PUSSY FOR PERJURY!’ 
Subtitle: A Nigor, Mortgaged.
 
But what could Edwin do? 
His hocus pocus had gone out of focus, and his ongoing nexus prevented his locus from finding his lotus (this would end more neatly had Edwin been named Otis). 
He had been outwitted, outfoxed by a wily hen, and now years of his life would belong to her, spittle and cough. Dense psycho spastic years. Years where the long hand on the clock wall resembled a middle finger. Years carpeted with molasses. Years that were bulls-eyes to darts, and their opinions. Years being pounded by the barren Earls for taking too long with their girls. She would betray to the magistrates the description of a life his memory could not embrace. She would in court, testify and hiss against a life used to poetry as the language between the lines, and all but have him turned upside down to see if any nickels rolled out of his pants. 
She would feel the occasional itch to scratch at his life, and look for signs of blood. And then remove the blood to the lab, to see if its value had risen and if more could be gotten from it. And she was obsessed with his containment. Nothing would ever again be his without a sizable portion of what was hers, attached. They die hard that die so easy, they to whom death comes before it even announces its arrival. No space was respected between it, you and the welcome mat. It barged in, with drinking buddies, and took over your life. It came then with accessories and braided your hair the way it wanted. You were scolded for daring to want a life you once had before giving it so carelessly away to a beast called love. You fell for it, were groomed to need it, to bow, hopelessly romantic, at the feet of what would impale you with it’s disdain for reach. Cack handed, callow, you would wallow in its search until its stench drove you south. O how wondrous and divine is the pussy. And O how murderous the contempt it has for us. And how exhausting its attempts to re-make men into programs for pilgrims and their pogroms. What once simple pussy was, now politics all is. What once a source of comfort, now a source of shambles. The Man of a Thousand Years, through his friend Luther Means (and Luther Means business!), once told Edwin that the messenger does not get the message until AFTER they have delivered it, never before. He would wonder whether morals were just a burden or whether they were our just burden. He would eventually pass through all of the vices it would take to hide his shame and shelter his dwindling carcass. Then, he would let them go and cling to the vice he could not surrender, a predilection for supremely bad puns, and dodgy word play. Though she could not rob his desire, that untouchable splendid thing, his motivation she could hinder, without the cause of which, desire remains unfulfilled, dreams remain but ashes for empathy. Despite what, within the confines of a nightmare, could still be appropriated as pieces of a dream, what for a brief summer was, has been for long winters , not. What rose with the first breaths of spring, fell ankle weary by autumn. 
Thereafter, Edwin would find his life chained to the grinding aftermath of a lie. Who knew she was also a spy? Delilah on a working holiday. She was a ‘confusionist’, and could manage to convince Samson that he was instead the Son of Sam. As a government agent she was stunning, as an assassin, somewhat lacking. Who knew that her vision of love would so vastly differ from his own. His denomination was love, she loved only denominations. Vivid was the joy with which she would thwart his every desire. She would contemptuously mock his belief in a God. To even believe in God, in a Godless world is its own form of Sado-Masochism, yet it was the form he understood. To know God is to suffer him. To know fatal love is to suffer both the love and the lover, the disease and its cause. Luther had also once granted Edwin something said to him by the ‘Man of a Thousand’, to wit: ‘The only way to survive resurrection, is to jump in at the deepest end of the grave’ Survive? 
He would survive it. And he wouldn’t at the same time. Betrayed by the dream of love, whereupon him it was used to pry open the secrets of his heart, reducing his vineyards from reason to vinegrette. Edwin’s ‘raison d’être’, his confidence and joy in his vision would be taunted and mocked by the very same souls who would come looking for its rescue skills later. He demurred. Once betrayed, once so cravingly spoiled, he would retreat. He would then from a careful distance watch his life fall into the black hole which had been written into his story in order to obscure him. He would let it. Some say he chanted for peace, others say revenge. Perhaps all thoroughbreds need a little breakdown. He came to view ‘Love’ as a matter for Pilgrims, and their progress. For such as he, it was but a trap. A good man broken and abused for falling on the level side of curiosity, but the wrong side of caste. There are but a tiny few who know now the whereabouts of Edwin. He now shuns the attention he once craved, and shushes all talk of what might have been. There are those who can plan their lives, more still who can only ‘counter-plan’ their existence. Edwin had always to respond to what responded to Edwin, he was used to running after those who ran after him. They were never intended to catch the other, only to run after the other, giving the other the necessary exercise needed to do nothing but wait. Rumours were of a small sea side town far from industrial north. “If they put the cause of death on gravestones, too many other people’s names would be on it”, once thought Edwin in a lighter black moment Grace would favour him to never see her again. There is less ‘Agency’ involvement and mischief attending his council, bending his ear. Less presumption interferes. He’s at peace. His prayers are now back in his own hands. He gardens a lot and keeps what he finds. He has also developed a curious fascination with snails. And he briefly had a dog for a spell, a good dog, which he had named ‘Otis’.
 
We thank Giorgio Bau’, encore, for his hustle and good attitude. Thanks also to Casa Logic Studio. Finally, another thanks to the maestro Lucio Fabbri for his talents and generosity of spirit. We also thank our very own Nik ‘The Sticks’ Taccori for the generous use of his ‘Gretsch’ snare drum, while mine was in the shop being fixed, a last thank you to Enea ‘Il Conte’ Bardi for the vibes and Lily. A special thanks to Margherita and Maceo for their help at the office. We are grateful for the extra little Italian Mojo!  
 
Disclaimer- As a nod to ‘Greening’, we avoided ‘backing vocals’ (they waste unnecessary carbon particles) and planted 6 plants in lieu of this fact. We will let you know how the ‘plants’ turned out. 
Remember the old philosophical adage we learned in the 60’s from our cultural prophets; ‘Ass, Gas, or Grass, Nobody rides for free’.
 
Finally, if you see ‘Lolly’, tell him that I’ve got some brand new adverbs here.
 
Written by SM
 
All contained herein is the intellectual property of www.SanandaMaitreya.com
 
Respect!
 
* and no infidels, ‘Superstar’ is not about the me myself, and yes, songwriters do get somewhat weary trying to explain to ‘critics’ (such as they now exist), that not all songs are ‘autobiographical’, and even the ones that are, are still ‘embellished’. There are however a peer or two that the song does poke a little fun at. Thought that I’d say this upfront since ‘misunderstandings’ are never far from the surface when swimming against the ‘mainstream’, often deliberately so, and I’ve already been asked whether the song was about me. In a final note, we will be in future making ‘backing tracks’ (Instrumentals) available upon payment/request. We will in the appropriate hour reveal the availability of these ‘karaoke’ versions. We thank you sincerely for your time and attention, not to mention your generous patience.
 
* This chapter dedicated to You, our Brave Soldiers, the Library of Congress and all of those who may have suffered time in Austrian dungeons. (talk about your Subterranean Homesick Blues!)
 
Someone once asked me the ‘conceptual’ difference between the ‘Violin’ and the ‘Fiddle’. To my mind growing up, Whites played the violin, Rednecks played the fiddle, and the fiddle is both sexier and funkier than the violin (and we will always love the sound of a violin, like most savage breasts). With the fiddle comes the real Country funk. Ironically, the fiddle’s origin, like the banjo’s and guitar, is Africa, go figure. All of our great music, was already ‘racially/culturally’ mixed before it even got to us to put our stamp on. This may or may not satisfy the Academics as far as explanations go, but it did manage to convince ‘Earl’. (Which is much easier if it’s after his medication).  
Nigor Mortis - Chapter 4
14) MRS. GUPTA  4:19
 
I’m gonna get you girl 
I’m gonna knock on your door 
I’m gonna get you girl 
I’m gonna knock on your door 
Because you’re a widow 
And you’re gonna need my love
 
I go to sleep 
In silent fear 
That my dreams 
Won’t find you here 
‘Cause I‘ve gotta give my heart to Mrs. Gupta!
 
I’m gonna get you girl 
And I’m gonna tie you down 
I wanna lay with you 
And I want to stay around 
 
I go to sleep 
In silent fear 
That my dreams 
Won’t find you here 
‘Cause I’ve gotta give my heart to Mrs. Gupta!
 
I’m gonna get you girl 
I’m gonna knock on your door 
I’m gonna get you girl 
And I’m gonna knock on your door 
Because you’re a widow 
And you’re gonna need my love
 
MRS. GUPTA BE SURE TO REMEMBER THAT OBSTACLES ONLY HELP CLEAR CONFUSION!
 
 
 
15) FREE ME  3:24
 
SHE DRIVE YOU CRAZY 
IF YOU'RE HER BABY 
LIKE A RED MERCEDES 
(AND SHE WILL KILL YOUR LUCK WITH OTHER LADIES)
 
FREE ME, LOVE ME 
FREE ME, LOVE ME 
FREE ME, LOVE ME 
FREE ME, LOVE ME
 
SHE RODE ME LIKE A 
A HARLEY BIKER 
I’D ALWAYS FIGHT HER 
(AND SHE WOULD SCREAM WHEN I WOULD TRY TO BITE HER)
 
FREE ME, LOVE ME 
FREE ME, LOVE ME 
FREE ME, LOVE ME 
FREE ME, LOVE ME
 
SHE KNOW NO MERCY 
TO REIMBURSE ME 
FOR MY CHARITY 
(AND FOR THE TIME THAT IT TAKES TO REHEARSE ME)
 
FREE ME, LOVE ME 
FREE ME, LOVE ME 
FREE ME, LOVE ME 
FREE ME, LOVE ME
 
 
 
16) I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU  2:58
 
SHE DANCES WITH THE DEVIL 
HE KEEPS HER ON HIS LEVEL 
SHE WAS A COLD ASSASSIN 
SHE COULD HAVE TAUGHT A CLASS IN 
HE WAS A FIREBIRD 
SHE WAS HIS DYING WORD 
SO I WANTED HER DEAD 
TO PUT A BULLET THROUGH HER HEAD 
BUT I DON’T CARE SINCE SHE STOLE MY WORLD 
AND PUT HER FOOTPRINTS OVER MY PEARLS 
SO I WANTED HER DEAD 
TO SUFFOCATE HER ON HER BED 
BUT I DON’T CARE SINCE SHE STOLE MY WORLD 
AND WHIPED HER FOOTPRINTS OVER MY PEARLS 
I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU!
 
SHE CAME IN LIKE A WIDOW 
WITH SPIDERS ON HER PILLOW 
SHE WAS ‘CONFUSIONISTA’ 
HE WAS ‘EVANGELISTA’ 
HE WAS A RINPOCHE 
HER FENG SHUI NO EASY WAY 
SO HE WANTED TO DROWN 
BY KEEP HIS BIGGER FISH AROUND 
BUT I DON’T CARE SINCE SHE STOLE MY WORLD 
AND PUT HER FOOTPRINTS OVER MY PEARLS 
IT GOT HARDER TO SWIM 
I SWEATED SO MUCH, CHANCES SLIMMED 
BUT I DON’T CARE SINCE SHE STOLE MY WORLD 
AND PUT HER FOOTPRINTS OVER MY PEARLS 
I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU!
 
SHE DANCES WITH THE DEVIL 
HE KEEPS HER ON HIS LEVEL 
SHE WAS A COLD ASSASSIN 
SHE COULD HAVE TAUGHT A CLASS IN 
HE WAS A FIREBIRD 
SHE WAS HIS DYING WORD 
SO I WANTED HER DEAD 
TO PUT A BULLET THROUGH HER HEAD 
AND I DON’T CARE SINCE SHE STOLE MY WORLD 
AND PUT HER FOOTPRINTS OVER MY PEARLS 
SO I WANTED HER DEAD 
TO SUFFOCATE HER ON HER BED 
BUT I DON’T CARE SINCE SHE STOLE MY WORLD 
AND PUT HER FOOTPRINTS OVER MY PEARLS
 
I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU!
 
 
17) AT THE CROSSROADS  5:38
 
HEY, IF I’M THE ONE WHO FEELS IT 
THEN I’VE GOT TO BE THE ONE WHO DEALS IT 
‘CAUSE I’M NOT A SECOND CHANCER 
HEY, IF I’M THE ONE WHO TAKES IT 
THEN I’VE GOT TO BE THE ONE WHO BREAKS IT 
BUT UNTIL I FIND MY ANSWERS, 
I’LL SURROUND MYSELF WITH DANCERS…
 
OF A CERTAIN KIND 
LIKE MOST OF YOURS 
AND SOME OF MINE 
I HEAR THUNDER IN A MOUNTAIN FIELD 
AT LEAST THAT’S WHAT I FEEL 
AND I MUST GO AND I MUST GO ALONE 
YOU CAN'T CALL ME ON A TELEPHONE 
WHO KNOWS JUST WHAT I’LL FIND 
I MAY BE WASTING TIME
 
AT THE CROSSROADS 
WHERE I FIND MYSELF 
LOOKING FOR SOME HELP 
AFRAID THAT I HAVE TO 
FACE IT BY MYSELF 
AT THE CROSSROADS 
WHERE I FIND MYSELF 
LOOKING FOR SOME HELP 
AFRAID THAT I’LL HAVE TO 
FACE IT BY MYSELF
 
HEY, IF I’M THE ONE WHO CHASES 
ALL THE MIRRORS THAT HAVE BLURRED MY FACES 
THEN MY HAT’S OFF TO THE RACES 
HEY, IF I’M THE ONE WHO’S TASTED 
ALL THE WINE AND WOMEN THAT I’VE WASTED 
LOOKING FOR MY ANSWERS 
AND SURROUNDED WITH MY DANCERS…
 
OF A CERTAIN KIND 
LIKE MOST OF YOURS 
AND SOME OF MINE 
I HEAR THUNDER IN A MOUNTAIN FIELD 
AT LEAST THAT’S WHAT I FEEL 
AND I MUST GO, AND I MUST GO ALONE 
YOU CAN’T CALL ME ON A TELEPHONE 
WHO KNOWS JUST WHAT I’LL FIND 
I MAY BE WASTING TIME
 
AT THE CROSSROADS 
WHERE I FIND MYSELF 
LOOKING FOR SOME HELP 
AFRAID THAT I’LL HAVE TO 
FACE IT BY MYSELF 
AT THE CROSSROADS 
WHERE I FIND MYSELF 
LOOKING FOR SOME HELP 
AFRAID THAT I’LL HAVE TO 
FACE IT BY MYSELF
 
HEY, IF I WALK THROUGH THE GRAVEL 
OF STONES AT MY FEET AS I TRAVEL 
STAGGERING LIKE A PANTHER 
HEY, IF I WALK THROUGH THE VALLEYS 
THROUGH THE CARAVANS OF BROKEN ALLEYS 
LOOKING FOR MY ANSWERS 
I’LL SURROUND MYSELF WITH DANCERS…
 
OF A CERTAIN KIND 
LIKE MOST OF YOURS 
AND SOME OF MINE 
I HEAR THUNDER IN A MOUNTAIN FIELD 
AT LEAST THAT’S WHAT I FEEL 
AND I MUST GO, AND I MUST GO ALONE 
YOU CAN’T CALL ME ON A TELEPHONE 
WHO KNOWS JUST WHAT I’LL FIND 
I MAY BE WASTING TIME
 
AT THE CROSSROADS 
WHERE I FIND MYSELF 
LOOKING FOR SOME HELP 
AFRAID THAT I’LL HAVE TO 
FACE IT BY MYSELF 
AT THE CROSSROADS 
WHERE I FIND MYSELF 
LOOKING FOR SOME HELP 
AFRAID THAT I HAVE TO 
FACE IT BY MYSELF…..
 
 
 
18) HAS IT BEEN TOO QUIET?  3:33
 
I ADMIT, I’VE BEEN CONFUSED 
MY MIND SEWN UP 
MY SOUL ABUSED 
I NEEDED TIME TO BREATHE 
TO WARM MY FEET 
ROLL UP MY SLEEVES 
NOW LISTEN UP BEFORE YOU LEAVE 
 
I KNOW I ASKED YOU FOR SOME QUIET 
BUT BABY, HAS IT BEEN TOO QUIET NOW? 
I KNOW I ASKED YOU FOR SOME PEACE 
BUT NOW IT FEELS LIKE I’VE LOST 
A PIECE OF ME
 
BACK WHEN I KNEW YOUR NAME 
BEFORE I KNEW 
YOUR OTHER GAMES 
BACK WHEN A KISS WAS ALL 
YOU NEEDED TO 
BREAK YOUR FALL 
WE SELDOM SPEAK NOW, IF AT ALL
 
I KNOW I ASKED YOU FOR SOME QUIET 
BUT BABY, HAS IT BEEN TOO QUIET NOW? 
I KNOW I ASKED YOU FOR SOME PEACE 
BUT NOW, IT FEELS LIKE I’VE LOST 
A PIECE OF ME
 
YOU PLAYED ME LIKE PIANO KEYS 
THEN BROKE MY HEART 
BY MEMORY 
THEN BEAT ME LIKE A DRUM 
DROPPED YOUR STICKS 
THEN TRIED TO RUN 
WE HELD EACH OTHER LIKE A GUN
 
I KNOW I ASKED YOU FOR SOME QUIET 
BUT BABY, HAS IT BEEN TOO QUIET NOW? 
I KNOW I ASKED YOU FOR SOME PEACE 
BUT NOW, IT FEELS LIKE I’VE LOST 
A PIECE OF ME
 
NIGOR MORTIS CHAPTER 4
SUCK MY CONTRADICTION
 
‘NIGOR MORTIS’ - Somewhere between ‘Rigor Mortis’, and ‘Vigor Mortis’ lies ‘Nigor Mortis’. “I know what it feels like when the heat comes up, the hammer comes down and ‘NIGOR MORTIS’ sets in”. - Sananda Maitreya!
 
Lyrics for chapter 4: ‘SUCK MY CONTRADICTION’- The further adventures of the process of ‘Nigor Mortis’, which this author has duly known. Death can penetrate no further than this…..
 
The titles are- 
 
...• Mrs. Gupta 
...• Free Me 
...• I don’t give a Fuck about you! 
...• At the Crossroads
...• Has it been too quiet?
 
All titles written, produced, performed and arranged by Sananda Maitreya and mixed by Maitreya and Matteo Sandri (‘Sergente’). Recorded and engineered by ‘Sergente’, assisted by the very capable Giorgio Bau at CASA LOGIC studio, Milano Italy. I thank them for their diligence and craft.
 
ALL SONGS THE PROPERTY OF TreeHouse PUBLISHING ’08. 
ALL INSTRUMENTS USED WERE REAL AND ORGANIC AND PLAYED ENTIRELY BY HUMAN HANDS AND NEUROSES. WE USED A YAMAHA STAGE DRUM SET WITH UFIP CYMBALS. WE USED LES PAULS FOR ALL THE GUITAR WORK AND OUR TRUSTY BLUE FENDER JAZZ BASS, SOMETIMES BOTH BEING RUN THROUGH A ‘Q-TRON’ FILTER BOX. A MARSHALL 1960 LEAD AMP WERE USED AS WERE A MARSHALL JCM 2000 HEAD. THESE SESSIONS UTILIZED A SECOND AMP APPROACH AND WE USED A SMALL KUSTOM AMP. OUR ROLAND VIKING VK-8 ORGAN WERE USED AND CASA LOGIC’S BATTERED BUT FUNKY OLD GERMAN BRUDER AND SOHN UPRIGHT PIANO WERE USED WHERE YOU MAY HEAR IT. THE BACKING VOCALS WERE ALREADY USED WHEN WE FOUND THEM……
 
THESE RECORDINGS MADE UTILIZING 11 DAYS BETWEEN THE 12TH OF NOVEMBER AND THE 28TH, ACCOMPANIED BY THE USUAL ‘STURM AND DRANG’ WHICH NORMALLY AWAITS MY RECORDING EVENTS, YET WHICH ONLY ADD MORE SUBSTANCE TO THE CALL. WE ARE DEEPLY GRATEFUL FOR WHAT EXISTS OF YOUR POSITIVE PRAYERS AND GOODWILL, IT HELPS, THAT’S FOR SURE.
 
EXCERPTS FROM RECORDING DAY ONE: 
‘SERGENTE’- “SANANDA, HOW MUCH VOLUME DO YOU WANT FROM THE AMP?” 
‘SANANDA’- “SERGENTE, WE JUST GOT ELECTED PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, SO TURN THAT BITCH UP!”
‘SERGENTE’- “COOL!”
 
SO WELCOME TO CHAPTER 4, SUCK MY CONTRADICTION, WHOSE SONGS ARE PRETTY SELF EXPLANTORY. TO VERY LOOSELY PARAPHRASE A HERO OF MY OWN, THE GREAT AMERICAN MASTER WALT WHITMAN (AND VERY LOOSELY INDEED), IF I CONTRADICT MYSELF, I CONTRADICT MYSELF, FOR I AM MULTITUDES. When I’ve borrowed it for personal consumption, it turns out more like, 
If I contradict myself, so what? The great master Ralph Waldo Emerson also reckoned 
That yesterday belongs to yesterday and today belongs to today, and that a foolish consistency was the hobgoblin of little minds. Steady on as steady goes, and appears, and so life is like unto this, A LADY YOU MUST SWAY, EACH AND EVERY DAY. We also do not believe in ‘Anti-Christs’, since we know that Christ is all, the seen and the unseen, the shadow and the light the shadow casts, and we know that he does not mind ‘appearing’ to be ‘Anti-’, if it helps to shake things up the way he needs them to go. Neither will it stop him from appearing as the ‘wolf’ if it takes that to move his recalcitrant sheep. There are no Anti-Christs, just some people with really bad manners……Knowing who you are precludes having to make your mind up in advance about who you may be tomorrow……and we are indeed all things, as the master Whitman said, duly served. Please enjoy and keep impressionable minors away from my work, they can learn their own swear words and phrases! I am an artist and it is a part of my spiritual responsibilities to shake shit up, upon when called by time and necessity to do so AND I LOVE MY JOB (despite sometimes the grieves to bear)! And I zealously covet what time you give my POST MILLENNIUM ROCK to the fertile spaces your ears surrender to my sound. Thank you and may heaven bless and keep you. We dedicate these recordings to our new young and gifted President and his family, to those of you who care for freedom and democracy, to those who strive for merit and invention, to those who understand that ‘profiles’ are death masks and are naught but the new chains, they chafe, so we step out of them and into another CAMELOT. 
MOST OF ALL, we dedicate this to all artists of all real stripe and hue, for the days belong now to our fulfilment and our time most certainly needs us, every swinging dick, every clinging vine, every beating heart. Signed Sir Lancelot (so called because he laughs when he dancelot!)
 
Important info: the ‘karaoke’ and instrumental versions will be available upon request. We have instrumental versions of all of Post Millennium Rock, which in due course we plan to make available to interested parties.
 
BONUS TRACK- YOUR MOTHER THOUGHT THAT MAMMOGRAMS WERE SINGING TELEGRAMS FOR HOUSEKEEPERS (SHE THOUGHT THAT THEY WERE INVENTED BY AL JOLSON…)
 
OK, I know, but it is my web site…..one little last one? Please? Ok, despite how hard your brother studied, he still couldn’t get into Oxford shoes! Ciao!!!
 
Sananda Francesco Maitreya, Milano, December 1st the year of our Lord 2008.
 
OM MANI CHRISTUM!
 
And not being disciplined enough to resist… Your mother?s idea of teaching you cultural diversity was in making you guess who your father was……. 
 
All rights reserved (though being shy, some rights are more reserved than others….)
 
Suck my Contradiction, a love story. (please shake well before reading):
 
The wordsmith was pissed! “They promoted that asshole over me, just because he came up with consonants? I invented vowels for crying out loud!” “Yeah”, said his regular yes man, “but there are more consonants than vowels”. “Yes, but that’s the genius of vowels, you only need a few, I downsize and get overlooked by management while ‘that one’ gets promoted for excess, waste, extravagance, I’m like so out of here”. “So, you coming with me?” “Uh, well, I got an offer from the adverbs division about possibly managing their semi-colons”. “Wait, you’re going to leave me AND ALL OF THIS to look after those spastic juvenile semi-jerks, are you for real?” “Well, the pension looks good, the insurance is great and I get to use as many definitive articles as I choose”. “Alright dude, you are such an idiot, and good luck to you, I’m Audi 5ooo. Don’t think that you won’t one day miss the old vowel man, your tongue wouldn’t be the same without me.” “Have you given thought to your future?” “Yeah, me and exclamation point are going to start up a new scheme and if we can talk period into joining us, this place is so over.” “Do you know that that promoted dickhead told comma that he came up with ‘THE’? “Well apparently it was comma who recommended the promotion:” “THAT TRAITOR, THAT SCUR! HE WILL PAY FOR THIS, comma was always trying to compete with me, remember that time he tried to copyright the title; the WORD JONES, just because I was wordsmith? Now who is gonna take a company seriously which employs both a wordsmith and a word jones? That’s just silly, and then he tried to copyright the word ‘copyright’ before the copywriters stopped him. He will get his, now come on quotation marks and let’s go to a bar and get ‘scuzzed”. “Uh, quotation marks are staying right here with the company”. “Et tu QM?” I’ve known you since you used to rub my head and call me ‘bowels’. 
“Yes my friend, they upped my pay AND I got to drop my workload and just handle single quotations now, which at my age is much easier”. “Right, I’m off then, use any of my letters, even think about it and you bastards will hear from my lawyers…..” (he had known them both since the team first started out together working in the short sentence division though there was a sense of estrangement when vowels were moved on to parables). And with that the wordsmith scurried off to his lawyers at Klein, Doolittle or nothing to make double sure that he really were the owner of ‘an sometimes Y’. To beat them at their game, he knew that control of ‘Y’, were the key to complete exploitation of his soon to be quite lucrative vowel franchise. 
He would even win his landmark case against XY chromosomes for infringement of his patent. 
And he would gain another fortune in time when he invented some new letters specifically for those who lisped. Exclamation point left after a while and went independent (and in truth they all envied ‘EP’ for how effortlessly he did his job and how fit he kept his figure). Comma too eventually left the company. He is now working with period on a common language for all housepets……
 
…and finalmente, we address these sessions and writings to our dear sweet friend Saint Gabriel, who were the patron saint of chapter 4 especially. Many of these songs were composed and inspired during my time living amongst Southern California’s ‘San Gabriel’ mountains and my brother in law a few months ago, brought me back from his travels a lovely simple framed portrait of him as well as a nifty key chain. God bless the church, they do know how to market and they have many stars worthy of it. During these recordings, the small portrait of Saint Gabby occupied the center of our mixing desk. That and a gift given to me by my dear, ancient friend, Satya Sai Baba. Also dedicated most sincerely to my dear old friend and sponsor, the late great BISHOP HENRY ROSS of LAKELAND FLORIDA and to his wife SARAH. 
 
And always we thank our loyal and great staff, Margherita, Maceo, the wonderful and unique Lily, our web dominatrix and the amazing Mrs. Francesca Maitreya, who is far more woman than I deserve, though I won’t be giving her back any time soon….. We thank God, we thank our SHIVA, we thank our local priest. We also thank profusely the great vineyards of Italy and France and their kind bottlers. And to you, your joys and your pains. Respects to Luther Means and Victor Spoils. And I leave you with Sananda’s ‘shadow’ prayer: Thank you Lord for protecting me from my own ignorance. Amen. And Happy Holidays!
Nigor Mortis - Chapter 5
19) WHERE DID THE MONEY GO?  1:43
 
Let’s write some corny rhymes 
I’ve got the time and these are my dimes 
Crooks and nannies cooking the books 
The fish are jumping off of the hooks 
Where did the money go, Where did all the 
Money go? Where did the money go, where 
Did all of the money go?
 
Let’s check the space satellites 
Maybe they send it there overnight 
Let’s ask the birds in the trees, 
They say ‘Gesundheit’, if you can sneeze 
Where did the money go, where did all of the money go? 
Where did the money go, where did all of the money go? 
 
Let’s ask the cynical man 
Maybe he has a financial plan 
Let’s keep an eye on your broker 
Is he a smoker, a practical joker? 
Where did the money go, where did all the money go? 
Where did the money go, where did all of the money go? 
 
Tell me, WHERE DID ALL THE MONEY GO?
 
Drums, Bass, Guitars, Vocals, Sananda
 
 
20) I NEVER KNEW HOW MUCH  3:38
 
I never knew how much I loved you 
Until they wrote a song about you!
 
Hip shaker, party maker, 
Candle you handle, my butcher 
Be in your baker? 
Fist pumping, the needle jumping 
Between my heartbeat 
And my nerve it rattled something 
“Settle down, don’t be so free” 
(she’d say) ‘Kiss my Jazz, 
I’ll be what I got to be’ 
Settle down, don’t be so free 
I’ll be what I’ve got to be
 
I never knew how much I loved you 
Until they wrote a song about you
 
The assumption of my function 
Is to meet you at the crossroads 
Of the junction 
Bull masters 
Wall street backers 
I fought the bears, 
Then took some chairs 
And beat the Packers 
Settle down, don’t be so free 
Kiss my Jazz, I’ll be what I got to be 
Settle down, don’t be so free 
I’ll be what I got to be
 
I never knew how much I loved you 
Until they wrote a song about you
 
Sweet rebel, snatch my pebble 
If they can’t kill you with the lance 
They’ll use the label 
Sensation 
Animation 
Wake up your nerve 
And take the deeper penetration 
“Settle down, don’t be so free” 
‘Kiss my Jazz, I’ll be what I go to be 
Settle down , don’t be so free 
I’ll be what I’ve got to be
 
I never knew how much I loved you 
Until they wrote a song about you!
 
Drums, Bass, Guitars, Vocals, Sananda
 
 
21) DECEMBER IN TRAIN  3:20
 
Some say it was just pneumonia 
That December 
But I found my love in California 
That December 
That December 
December in the Rain!
 
Knocked out by a certain fever 
That December 
It made of me a true believer 
That December 
That December 
December in the Rain!
 
These things, they take on 
A mind of their own 
 
Swept up off my feet and restless 
That December 
Now I’m a fool and I couldn’t care less 
(since) That December 
That December 
December in the Rain!
 
These things, they take on 
A mind of their own 
 
Captured by a sudden smile 
That December 
Blinded for a little while 
That December 
That December 
December in the Rain!
 
Drums, Bass, Acoustic Guitar, Guitars, Vocals, Sananda
 
 
 
22) O LOVELY GWENITA  3:24
 
O lovely Gwenita 
I’m so happy to meet ‘ya 
Because I think I love you 
It is not a tangible thing 
But if it were a tangerine, 
I would eat it 
O lovely Gwenita 
I’m so happy to meet ‘ya 
Because I think I love you 
I cradle you into my arms 
And label you with all of the charms 
Inside me
 
I look into the Sun 
As the sunlight flashes 
And look into your eyes 
As the moon relaxes 
O lovely Gwenita 
I’m so happy to meet ‘ya 
Because I think I love you 
I pour a drink into the glass 
Waiting for the moments to pass 
‘til I see you
 
Look into the sun 
As the sunlight flashes 
Look into your eyes 
As the moon relaxes
 
O lovely Gwenita 
I’m so happy to meet ‘ya 
Because I think I love you 
My sisters are gathered around me 
And if they had not come and found me 
I’d be floating
 
O lovely Gwenita 
I’m so happy to meet ‘ya 
Because I think I love you 
(even when people are screaming, I think of you and start dreaming, instead)
 
Drums, Bass, Piano, Electric Piano, Strings, Vocals, Sananda
 
 
 
23) THIS TOWN  3:37
 
I’ve been around 
And I waited for the day 
When a lover would shine on me 
I stood my ground 
And I witnessed there 
That there were only clouds of despair 
And ladies in their mansions, who combed their hair
 
This town won’t love you 
If you pay your taxes on the run 
This town won’t love you if you stay 
This town won’t love you 
Unless you lay your heart out on a plate 
And stamp it with an expiration date 
This town won’t love you, this town 
 
I ran around 
And I played the field 
And laid with women who would not yield 
There all to me 
So I was confused 
All I got were my Springsteen’s bruised 
Though I had a lot of fun being used
 
This town won’t love you 
If you pay your taxes on the run 
This town won’t love you if you stay 
This town won’t love you 
Unless you lay your heart out on a plate 
And stamp it with an expiration date 
This town won’t love, this town
 
I was a boy 
Who became a man 
According to nature’s master plan 
I was a fool 
Who believed in romance 
And believed in a 2nd chance 
With ladies in their mansions, a slow lap dance
 
This town won’t love you 
If you pay your taxes on the run 
This town won’t love you if you stay 
This town won’t love you 
Unless you lay your heart out on a plate 
And stamp it with an expiration date 
This town won’t love, I said this town
 
Drums, Bass, Piano, Keyboards, Horns, Vocals, Sananda
 
NIGOR MORTIS CHAPTER 5
IF YOU WERE LIVING HERE (WITH ME), YOU'D ALREADY BE HOME BY NOW
 
‘NIGOR MORTIS’ - Somewhere between ‘Rigor Mortis’, and ‘Vigor Mortis’ lies ‘Nigor Mortis’. “I know what it feels like when the heat comes up, the hammer comes down and ‘NIGOR MORTIS’ sets in”. - Sananda Maitreya!
 
Songs- 
 
...• Where did the Money go?
...• I Never Knew How Much
...• December in the Rain
...• O Lovely Gwenita
...• This Town
 
NIGOR MORTIS - A CRITICAL MASS, CHAPTER 5 INTRO:
 
Nathan Cincinnati loved the feel of the moist warm breeze as it blew upon his forehead and what was left of his hair in the wind, not including those parts still pulled tight in his loafer friendly pony tail. He had a broad face, ruddy and loved the sun, in fact it were said that his head was so large, he didn’t have a forehead as much as a five-head (his mother reassured him as a child that it were a sign of prowess). Still he loved being here doing business in Southern California as opposed to cold ass Detroit, where he was from, which this time of year could make even nuns teeth chatter (though they tried not to make a ‘habit’ of it). The pleasures of sucking the air from his convertible rental were soon challenged by this one central fact. Nathan was 54 solid healthy years old and had to pee, more forthrightly, had to pee NOW. For those familiar with the cross hatched freeways of Southern California, truly no man is an island, and his car won’t find one either. So, when you have to pull over, you take your evolutionary chances and wish for the best. He grits his molars, spies his chance. And who knows at what age it hits a man when it comes at you so hard, without warning? 
Slinging his car to the right, in a lurch as if in a bumper car, he slams his brakes, hops out of his door, with his attention firmly on the proper place to drain his claim. O My God, a Bush! And with that, and immense gratitude, he empties himself of that blasted caffeine. Not having put on his emergency lights drew the attention of a plump hipped highway patrolwoman who offered a nod of empathy as she multitasked by listening to his explanation while writing him the ticket nonetheless. 
Being he, he wondered what it would be like to just take a policewoman, just have her outright in the back of her squad car, but allowed his mind to snap back to reality when she told him to move on. Getting back in his Chrysler, he noticed up on the apartment building on the other side of the divide, in front of where he had taken his slash, a banner which read, IF YOU LIVED HERE YOU WOULD BE HOME BY NOW! He thought, ‘Yeah, if I’d lived there, I wouldn’t have gotten this stupid ticket’. The incident didn’t sour the rest of Mr. Cincinnati’s drive back to his hotel too much, his company would pay the ticket. He enjoyed his working holidays in sunny Southern California cities. It was the price of doing business. He was annoyed at himself later though for not getting the policewoman’s phone number. But that was Nathan. He would soon enough be back in Detroit, blowing on his hands to keep them warm, and regaling the boys back in the bureau with tales of his deeds and conquests in the land of pampered emperors, rich expectations, and buildings with philosophical banners.
 
And ready to dig into the evening meal, to dive into it more like, Sananda reached for the broccoli, as he didn’t wish for the rest of the food on the plate to feel ostracised and lonely. At that moment the voice of Mrs. Maitreya breaks the gluttony with a suggestion. “Why don’t you do one of the songs for the last chapter in Latin?” She then gets up briskly from her chair and retires to the library to return with one of her college dictionaries, a Latin one. “Since ‘Nigor Mortis’ is faux Latin, maybe you can try a song in it”. Great idea, and bold, but perhaps I might finish my chicken first, before digesting such a challenge (and while I wasn’t too certain if it were ‘faux’ Latin, I certainly knew that it wasn’t against it). Since the original title of the song ‘I Never Knew How Much’ were at first another, I toyed with the idea of making that the Latin piece, though with but a week to go until the recordings, I laid it aside and decided to revisit the idea at a later more self pronounced date. But what a cool idea, a song in Latin! In the dictionary, the closest match to Nigor Mortis were NEGRO MORTIS, and NERO MORTIS, and I were obliged to consider that, puns aside, it had perhaps come back to me through some kind of genetic memory, a DNA flashback, a dream implant. The meal and the beverage turned into a small primer for an ancient tongue. It is a privilege to eat well, a blessing to learn. Likewise a privilege to know good people, and moreover a great privilege to be able to share with you this final chapter of our odyssey, our bloodtrail, tracked by the hounds of hell until was screamed and declared ‘NIGOR MORTIS’. This chapter of songs, plucked from the mouth of future grapes, we submit to you humbly as ‘IF YOU LIVED HERE (with me), YOU’D ALREADY BE HOME BY NOW’. With what time you are blessed to give them, enjoy these offerings!
 
Sananda Francesco Maitreya!
 
All songs written, produced, performed and arranged by Sananda 
Recorded and engineered by Matteo ‘Sergente’ Sandri 
Mixed by Sandri and Sananda Assisted by Giorgio Bau 
Recorded at Casa Logic studios over the course of 10 days in February 2009,
In Milano Italia.
 
Strings and horns played on a Kurzweil 
Drums were Yamaha Stage Custom, with Ufip and Paiste cymbals 
Bass is a Fender Jazz ‘70’s 
Guitars were Gibson Les Pauls (P-90’s) 
Amps were Marshall JCM 2000, Vox Pathfinder 15, and a Kustom (model kaa16)
…and we made some use of our ‘Q-tron’ toy. Hope you enjoy!
 
All songs property of TreeHouse Publishing.
 
During the recording, the studio owner, Francesco and his wife gave birth to a daughter, Agnese, we dedicate this chapter to her. May she have a good, healthy life! 
We also dedicate these songs to those who love music for its own sake. 
We thank Giorgio Bau for his support, Mattia Pittella for snares, Maceo, Margherita and the staff at TreeHouse Publishing, our web dominatrix St Lily of Lelystad and my dear wife, friend and apologist, Francesca Francone Maitreya. We as well, thank you! 
 
OM MANI CHRISTUM
 
© COPYRIGHT TreeHouse PUBLISHING 2009 – ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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