The Mnemonic Devices: I Don't Remember

Forgotten Muse
written by Rusty Spell

Oh, yeah, I'm in love with a girl: She talks like Butterfly McQueen. And I'm buying soundtracks to movies I've never seen. I'm bound to find the meaning of life in an indie rock magazine. I don't know where I'm going, how far I have been. Ain't that obscene?

I wish you would take me home... I wish you would take me home, home. Yeah, I know that's weird to some. But you gotta take me home. Please take me home.

What happens to me if I stand perfectly still? Is there something to say for giving up your will? Some people try the doctors; but they only give them pills. I'll be out of the way, I'll be way up on the hill. I think I will.

Water, water gun. I shot a mockingbird from a tree, and it was fun. But I so bad afterwards that I wanted to run. Well, I'd rather have a water gun out in the sun.

Don't you call me on the phone. Don't write me if it's long, long. I want to sing you a song where the drumbeat sounds like Pong: Bing bong, bing bong.

Ripping off my old tales. I wrote them, so I might just as well, oh well. It's not like I'll go to jail. Won't have to post any bail. I'm gonna check my mail.

I Like You
written by Rusty Spell

Turn away. I don't want you to see me, 'cause it's hard to be so honest. Day by day, I'm thinking lots about you, and I've tried to make it stop. But I must say there's no other way: I know I've got to give in if I want to keep on livin'.

(So) (Yeah) (And) I like you. Junior-highish as it sounds, I just have to get it out: I like you. And that's all that I can say; you can answer any way: I like you.

So you say? I've been holding something in, banging my head on wooden bedknobs. No more play. I'm sick of all these riddles, all this garbage, all this nonsense. And by the way, the news today is there is no mistaken all these feelings that are shakin'.

(You say this song should have been a duet? Well, that's too cheesy, and I'm close enough already. You want to know a huge secret? If you work around the edges, then that's when it rocks.)

Clear away the path of all that's not worthy... Destroy those bad euphemisms: they're like scurvy... We're gonna make this fake world much more real, more topsy-turvy... And I like you.

written by Rusty Spell

Why do you suddenly cry when I kiss you? Why do you say goodbye, and I miss you? Why is it at night when you should be holding me tight, you stay awake by yourself in the armchair?

Why do you drive at night when it's raining? Why do you make it sound like complaining? Why don't we go out? You need the time, no doubt. But you would rather die very slowly.

You need to tell me, or you'll risk it; I'll just walk away. You made a promise, now you're proving yourself wrong. It's not a matter of who you are or what you say. I'll love you anyway. I'll love you anyway.

Six o'clock at night and I'm hurting. At least I know for sure you're not flirting. But worse, you're all alone, unhooked your telephone. And now our history rests in the basement.

What made you lose your grip of the handle? Why is your light as dim as a candle? I shouldn't even care. You're nothing but a stare. You're simply a robot made of paper.

I guess I'll go now; there's no point; there's nothing more to say. I've lived the lyrics far to long to this song. It's so pathetic: You're unmolded, you're just hardened clay. I would have loved you anyway. I would have loved you anyway.

written by Rusty Spell

When she wore a white dress, it snowed. This was Atlanta in the middle of the Summertime; it showed that she was unique. She was the center of the universe. She held the heavens in her purse.

I've gone crazy, or I am in love with her. Either way, I'm simply not the same. Patrick Swayze could never play this part. You need a better actor to play me. (Yes, you need a better actor to play me.)

When she took my Polaroid, I froze. I didn't even know I had a soul until she stole it away from me. And now my life is resting in her picturebook. And I'm afraid to have a look.

'Cause now I'm not exactly sane. I've never seen this In another man. And if I'm with her another day, I am afraid they're gonna put me away.

written by Rusty Spell

I think I'd explode if you connected with my mind. I think our commode is unexpectedly tidy. And I wish to deflate this current image of you. And I want to relate to those who feel nothing new.

I can't grasp the greatness that is going on around. I can't hardly wait; our garden's growing in the back yard. And I feel arms around me and I am a helpless mass. And I envy the neighbor 'cause he has the paler grass.

Everything is just too great. Everything is just too wonderful. Everything is going fine. Perfection feeds upon my mind.

I know you're the cutest, you're the finest, you're a doll. I know what the rule is, that the garbage comes on Tuesdays. And I am simply crumbling when you kiss and you adore. And I would feel much better if you'd slap and you'd abhor.

Shake perfection out the bag. Stomp upon it like a hag.

Missing You
written by Rusty Spell

Zamphir was right when he panned through the night, when he tried to find gold for his lady. Neil Diamond was, too, when his song was sung blue, all that wind took him right through the eighties.

And the loop to me seems like it's out of a dream, and the snippets are forming whole songs. When the TV is on, when I'm sitting alone, I don't know how I'll manage to go on.

Could it be I stayed awake too long and slept right through the morning? Could it be that there's a reason why I'm constantly yawning? Could there be an explanation to my nightly complication? Could it be that missing you has caused my devastation?

When I turn over at three, my little sister hits me, and says, "Welcome to the land of the living." But I go back to bed, 'cause if I truly were dead, then it's better than what I'm given.

Six o'clock rolls around without making a sound; my Weeble- Wobbles were never that quiet. I don't know what to do; I'll pop a pill or two. At this point there is no reason to fight it.

Take Me In Your Hand
written by Martin Tielli
additional by Rusty Spell

Take me in your hand. Put me back into the nest. Make me feel like a little bird. 'Cause everything I hear and everything I see makes me squeak.

Take me in your hand and squeeze me hard until I pop. Make me feel like a little girl. As wicked as a bee. Much happier than me. Make me feel like little girl.

(It's a wind on a summer day. It's the fun of the games we play. It's an endless array of light. It's the sky on a starry night in June. It must be something, 'cause I feel it (near). It's the smell of a baseball glove. It's the peace of a little dove. It's the rain, it's the air, it's the I don't know...)

Living Forever
written by Rusty Spell

"I'm not gonna sell you that unless you eat the paper."

"You can't eat the paper."

"You can eat the paper."

She wadded it up in her mouth. He said that was kind of gross. "Try it, it's not gross." He tried it, it wasn't gross.

He wore a brown coat and blue jeans. She wore some freak lipstick. She wore a tight green shirt. She wore high heel sandals. The biggest worry on his mind was the short in his windshield wipers. She wanted to have a wreck. She wanted to kill herself.

And the wonderful thing was no one was taking anything less than anything but the truth, than anything that was right. And the noblest thing they could possibly do was figuring out exactly what was the truth, exactly what was right.

"Your breath smells really good. Your breath smells like Spree."

"I used to juggle knives, because I knew I could juggle."

They gave each other a hug on top of the tree-filled hill. She tried to make him roll off. He was afraid of heights.

On the road with her, he figured out some things. They sung loud with the windows down. They made up lyrics to an old song. On the road with him, she figured out some things. She wanted to catch butterflies. She wanted to live forever. To go on living forever...

Tip of My Tongue

Copyright (c) Jun 1998 by The Mnemonic Devices and Love and Letters Music