PRODUKTS OF IMAGINATION

Andrew and Kate: Two biology researchers going on a date. Akquainted for a while from sharing office, koffees and (till now) the social smile.

Evening going well, professor jokes to tell, gossip from the golf klubs they attend. Kate is saying something about the two: “Funny what friendships do to you“. And Andrew says: “Let‘s watch a film tomorrow“.

Apokalypse now! In his own apartment Andrew starts to wonder how. And he says something nice, something wise, about how “only Produkts Of Imagination really are worthwhile.

TVs krash but all you lose is kash. And the video machine is useless by itself“. Kate is excited and loud and agrees, says something like: “Things are nothing but the dreams they trigger!“. And then she lifts her beer to Andrew:

“Cheers! Bottoms up, and here’s to Produkts Of Imagination“.

Andrew is proud. Proud of knowing Kate and how he got her to be loud. And he’s starting to dream, producing and imagining and getting up his steam.

Everything going well. Soon some news to tell to kollege kolleagues, to golf klub friends. So this is the time to tell you, Andrew: It is us who got news for you. Bad ones first: Kate has not your future plans.

In fakt, she’s got no plans at all right now. She and you will always be A Produkt Of Imagination.

She and you will always be Produkts Of Imagination.

Yours.

And ours.

KOULDVEBEENS

Kould’ve been a sailor if I had a sea. Kould’ve been a gardener if I had a tree.

Kould’ve been a doktor if I had the guts. Kould’ve been a golfer if I had the puts. Are my kouldvebeens far from kouldvebeen-true?

Kould’ve been this, kould’ve been that, kould’ve been more like the dreams that you had. Kould’ve been good, kould’ve been bad, kould’ve been famous and kould’ve been fab. I kould have been Paul McKartney if only I had started yesterday.

If I had a mission I might’ve been a priest. Politikal ambition - ease the Middle East! Kould’ve been a genius if I had the genes. Kould’ve been the future if I was seventeen.

Are my kouldvebeens far from kouldvebeen-true? Are my kouldvebeens far from kouldvebeen-you?

Kould’ve been this, kould’ve been that, kould’ve been more like the dreams of your dad. Kould’ve been good, kould’ve been bad, kould’ve been famous and kould’ve been fab. Too many plans, fly in a fan, try to let go what is out of your hand. You kould’ve been A, you kould’ve been B, but kouldvebeen people will never be free. I kould have been Frank Sinatra if only I had figured out my way.

(Kould’ve been an asshole if I was full of shit. I’m glad I’m not an asshole, but I wish I was - a bit).

Life At A Different Size

Last night I diskovered that I kould change to a different size. Just how I don‘t wanna reveal, but in your mind there’s a magikal wheel. Human ape or ant or whale - turn the wheel, adjust your skale.

Pretty soon I was walking around the height of a middle klass house. All the loox didn’t make me blush - I rapidly learned to reply with a krush. My oh my, to my surprise: Feeling mighty felt so nice.

Ooooh - it’s easy to bow to the view when size doesn’t matter to you. Man, it’s great and it’s awesome to greet the rest of the world at your feet.

I tried a different disguise I resized to blend in with the mice. My turn to beware of a krush - I hid under a lid and I nearly got flushed. Someone sold me to a zoo. People pried and then I knew:

Ooooh - it’s easy to bow to the view when size is no issue to you. Man, it’s mean and it’s kreepy to meet the rest of the world at their feet.

I decided to avoid the eyes so I shrunk to the minimum size, blowing outside in the wind until a scientist invited me in. He was working for a heavenly kause, and when you’re small you’re a sucker for applause. Now I’m a tiny little Trojan horse: I’m the head of his bakterial force.

Ooooh - it’s easy to bow to the view when size doesn’t matter to you. Man, it’s great and it’s awesome to greet the rest of the world at your feet. Ooooh – will you ever get used to the view when size is an issue?

Last night I diskovered that I kould change to a different size. Just how I don‘t wanna reveal, but in your mind there’s a magikal wheel.

KaRL BaRX PART ONE

Dad grew up with grandaddy. He learned his yelling early and the girl he married yelled and gave him yelling kids and Karl. Daddy yelled at Mummy yelled at Johnny yelled at Jenny yelled at Kenny yelled at Bobby, everybody yelled at Karl.

Karl was just a tiny kid, so little that nobody did take notice that he never yelled back, Karl would hardly gnarl. He had few opinions, so he didn’t need a language, just a TV and a sandwich, a new Neanderthal.

Everyone was yelling and no one was ever telling what the hell was going on around and suddenly the rest remembered: Karl had turned eleven. Let’s pretend he’s only seven, send him off to skool where Misses says: “Welkome to us, Karl! Please tell us who you are!”

Silence – then a snarl: Karl barx!

Daddy yelled at Mummy yelled at Johnny yelled at Jenny yelled at Kenny yelled at Bobby, everybody yelled at Karl, and Karl barx.

CHEESEKAKE

Tomorrow, today, yesterday, slipping away. Tomorrow, today, yesterday, slipping away.

You kan wait till tomorrow, let your time and mind slip away. You kan wait till tomorrow, eat a little Cheesekake, time is slipping away.

Today. Every day, another delay. It’s Friday today. Saturday is slipping away.

Have your cheap meal tomorrow, you deserve dessert today. Leave the skraps and the sorrow, eat a little cheesekake, snip snap slipping away today. Every day, another delay.

You kan wait till tomorrow, let your time and mind slip away. You kan wait till tomorrow, eat a little Cheesekake, time is slipping away.

Have your cheap meal tomorrow, you deserve dessert today. Leave the skraps and the sorrow, eat a little cheesekake, zip zap slipping away.

Too early, too late, every day, slipping away.

Don’t Bother

Sign on the blue line, skribble on the blue line, you kan use the name of your brother. Queue in the wrong line, sneak into the right line, hop a train, don’t wait for another. Lie in the backseat, listen to the railbeat, hoping the konduktor won’t bother. Don’t Bother.

Why are all the shortkuts always easier to take? Never mind your mind, go on in peace and quiet. Why is your indifference too easy to be fake? This life, don’t try it, survive it.

Sign on a new line, yet another new line, spare a little bribe for the teller. Klimb in the right tree, ruin all the wrong, prepare a little trap for the seller. Lie to your wife, just listen to her life-tired talking, find a story and tell her a story. Don’t Bother.

Why are all the rules just getting easier to break? Find a line to hide behind in peace and quiet. Will it make a difference when something is at stake? Like life? Deny it, or buy it.

Why are all the shortkuts always easier to take? Never mind your mind, go on in peace and quiet. Why is your indifference too easy to be fake? This life, don’t try it, survive it. Why not defy it, apply it. That’s life, a riot, don’t die it.

Lie in the backseat, listen to the railbeat, hoping the konduktor won’t bother. Don’t Bother.

Problems Of Imagination

Inside your pretty little mind: What’s going on inside your pretty little mind? Don’t mind me rummaging around for a peak inside your pretty little mind.

Is there room inside for me? A place with kandlelight and wine where I will be? A space you visit in your dream and would like to move into reality?

If we kould see in each others minds, misunderstandings won’t be around. Lovers and friends would be lost and found.

Inside your pretty little mind: What’s going on inside your pretty little mind? Don’t know - what am I gonna find if I peak inside your pretty little mind?

What’s right, what’s wrong? What’s going on behind your innocent, intelligent eyes? Let’s hang a witty little sign on your back announcing your intentions.

If we kould see in each others minds, lovers and friends would be lost and found. And I wouldn’t make a mistake this time.

Meet me at the railway station, or in my imagination.

See all the shitty little minds, why am I pretty sure it’s pretty pretty inside you? If you have something to hide, I would know if I kould sign-ify you. And then I wouldn’t have to bother if you are fancying another who is konsidering a mother for his pretty little children.

Wait, there’s a doubt in the other’s mind. You see it, you see how it’s hard to find an akkurate match, are you wasting your time?

Time goes by, we don’t have to learn to lie, no use to wonder how, no need to even try. Life will go on unimagined...

I was at the railway station. Not in her imagination.

After The Fair

Running in a fairground, you don’t know what for. Wearing a pyjamas someone bigger wore. You have no idea why your palms are sore, and you didn’t see when the sun went down.

Look, a bearded lady (maybe she’s a man) speaking in a tongue you do not understand. Baby language backwards - or Italian? Suddenly she turns with an evil frown.

And you run. And you hide. And you wish you have ridden a final ride on the horse, everything was so much kooler then.

Hiding in the basement of a house you know. Head is saying no, but body has to go to the inner hallway where the bulb is blown. Open up the door and you see - your self.

And you run. And you hide. And you wish you have ridden a final ride on the shark. Everything was so much kooler then - no surprises when you ride a karousel.

Are you feeling lonely with this silence all around? Maybe you’re the only one who doesn’t hear a sound? Maybe you’re dead, maybe you’re dying.

Time Is Money (I Don’t Wanna Pay)

(We must spend more time together…)

Dear God, give me one more hour a day. Don’t you think the day of today is passé? What was right for Adam and Eve isn’t right for the twenty-first century me.

(Me and you kan last forever…)

Give me one more hour a day, why must there be shortage of time, anyway? Give me a break, and give it for free. I say: If time is money, it’s money I don’t wanna pay.

I was praying to God for twenty-five hours a day. I was asking a lot, why shouldn’t I? God is OK.

You know I work twelve hours a day, and need to sleep for six to keep it that way. Another one lost inbetween, if you kan kount, we’ve reached nineteen. And kount one hour spent at the loo, which only leaves four hours with you.

I was praying to God for twenty-five hours a day. I was asking a lot, why shouldn’t I? God is OK.

He’s OK, hey! Change my day - and God’s OK. (You and I kan last forever if we spend more time together…)

Give me one more hour, I pray. Twenty-four just isn’t enough nowadays. Twenty-four was plenty before - before the wheel, the war, before me and you. If I’m denied more hours a day, I must have to steal all this time in some way. As a start I’m late for each date, just making sure I’m not the one who must wait.

I was praying to God for twenty-five hours a day. I was asking too much, or God is not working that way. Don’t believe in a God or twenty-five hours a day, just believe in yourself and a date who is willing to wait.

Song Of Self-Pity

Fanny got fooled by Freddy, Fiona was abandoned by George. Bill got Wilma’s door in the face, Norman had an ugly divorce. Sara got dumped by a dustman, Betty by a rock’n’roll star. Kate was never into Andrew, and no one ever looked, never ever looked at Karl.

Kitty got a krush on Henry, but Henry got a krush on John. They see each other in sekret, and Kitty bekomes a nun. Ruth finally got rid of Richard, now it’s time to live a life of her own. But that’s not easy when the time she felt pity for Richard was the only time Ruth ever felt strong.

Strong. Ruthie, you should sing along to this song. This song is wrong. But every now and then everyone must klaim the right to be wrong.

Everyone should be lonely at least one year of a life. Everyone should be disappointed by at least one boyfriend or wife. Everybody should feel the way a lot of us are feeling right now. Enough to be humble in the hunger, enough to learn love kan leave without saying “so long”.

Long. You should learn to sing along to this song. This song is wrong. But every now and then everyone must klaim the right to be wrong.

Are you sad and lonely? Well, you know you’re not the only, and your pain is something real, and don’t you feel a little high when low?

This isn’t the song we intended to sing when the weather got hot. Me and my kind should be at the beach drinking beer – but we’re not. Kause this is the Song of Self-Pity, self-pity is the drug that we’re on. It’s not just dealt at the depths of the city – the desperate will find a shot in his mind, the self-pityist is a dealer and an addikt in one.

Shoot on. Join us and sing along to this song. This song is wrong. Kome on, sing along and fight for the right to be wrong. The song of self-pity is pathetik and bitter and real and wrong. It’s wrong.

But every now and then everyone must klaim the right to be wrong.

Produkt 61 Revisited

Spring has kome, twenty sixtyone. The Queen is dead but I survived the winter. Less is more after World War Four. Thank Allah for my iBrain and my printer (print here:)

Please, read my mind, hack into my head, patch the pieces, steal my station. Foresee my lines. Man does not prevail like produkts of imagination do.

Now I know: Fifty years ago singing this was silly superstition. I rekall the singer had it all - those were days when musik was a mission (miss him…)

Please, read my mind, hack into my head, patch the pieces, steal my station. Foresee my lines. Man does not prevail like produkts of imagination do.

Your mind will not last like mine will (kind of plastik versus vinyl), man and matter do not last like produkts of imagination do.

Future friend, what matters in the end: History is written by the winners. Still the end, imaginary friend: The end is always written by beginners.

Spring has kome, twenty sixtyone. I am dead but Karl survived the winter. I rekall Andrew had it all - those were days when musik was a mission. Miss him…

And I kan’t get it out of my head right now: It’s twenty sixtyone and I’m dead right now. I kan’t get it out of my head right now: It’s twenty sixtyone and I’m dead right.

BOY WITH A BAND

Here I am. Just a boy with a band. Or a man. I’m a man with a plan: To play pop and some pop kind of rock. I wear black. I’m no man with a tan

Here I am. Just a boy with a band. Or a man. I’m the man with the plan. No, I’m not. I’m a fly in a fan. I’m a lot. I’m a toy on a stand.

It’s so konfusing when the band is a brand. So misuse me. I am nothing but this song. Sing me.

Here we are. We’re the boys in the band. And there you are: You’re a girl in the world. Or a boy - you’re the boys and the girls. You like pop. Or the band or the brand.

It’s not konfusing when the toy understands. So excuse me. I am nothing but this song. Sing me.

I am nothing but this song. Sing me.

IN TOUCH

So you went away. Always knew you wouldnt stay. Like a star like a season like a fly or a flower. We were only friends, but a friendship shouldn’t end in a missing friend museum with no opening hours.

Don’t know where you are. Kould be near, it kould be far. Kould be hell, kould be heaven, borders I never krossed. Rekall an old man (not a member of this band), said “forever in possession is only the lost”.

He was so damn right.

I never wanted too much. Who’s got it all got a distance to it all. I only want to stay in touch with you.

So make a little kall. I dont kare if it is smalltalk, kause any talk is bigger than the signals you send. Drop a little line, I dont kare if its unkind. Even enemies are better than invisible friends.

Stay in touch.

I never wanted too much. Who’s got it all got a distance to it all. I only want to stay in touch with you.

So make a little kall. I dont kare if it is smalltalk, kause any talk is bigger than the signals you send. Drop a little line, I dont kare if its unkind. Even enemies are better than invisible friends. Invite me where you are I don’t kare if it is far. Kould be hell, kould be heaven, places I’ve never been.

Stay in touch.

Guess I wouldnt sing if there wasn’t one thing: It was me who let go, I was letting you know that I wanted something more and I turned into a bore. This is really what I say, this is really why I'm asking you to stay in touch.

CHICKEN

Scene 1: I’m at the poultry farm. The housekeeper she will do me no harm. I’m proud to be the the biggest in her bunch. Scene 2: I’m at the slaughterhouse. Now it’s too late for the whos and hows and why she prokreated me for lunch.

Free at last. Running around for the first time. Head over heels, wonder what my body feels now. Here I am, running around for the last time. Life kan be so wasted if you taste it when it’s already too late.

Scene3: I don’t kare if I preceded the egg. I limp along with a wounded leg and nothing else to testify.
Flashback: I should’ve fled when there still was time. You know I should’ve run away, but I’m a koward, I’m a chicken.

I am free at last. Running around for the first time. Head away from heels, wonder what my body really feels. Here I am, running around for the last time. Bite the hand that feeds you, kause it needs you too, don’t wait till it’s too late.

Free at last, running around for the first time. Free at last, running around, running around, running around. Here I am, running around for the last time. Life kan be so wasted if you taste it when it’s already too late. Let’s hang out tonight, free our bodies from our minds.

THIS IS NORWAY

He followed the ice, he followed the glacier. How safe on his horizon it had been! With the wind in his eyes, it was him and the snowkow. But she preferred extinction in a week.

And nobody was looking at him as he departed. They all were busy having fun in the rising sun. And that’s how it started: I’ve been living here for ten milleniums. And I never think that I’ll be any dumber than now.

I look for the glacier when it bekomes a river every spring. Still in love with the ice, but there’s a trace here: Now I know sunlight doesn’t kill the thing.

And nobody is looking at me up in my mountain. I built my kabin far away. Well anyway, this is Norway. I’ve been living here for ten milleniums, and I never think that I’ll be any dumber than now.

This is Norway, now there’s no way back to the snowkow. We’ve learnt to deal with people like ourselves. We all get around, it’s ok, but somehow it’s safer when we do diskover snow white skin beneath the tanning lines.

And nobody is looking at us up in our mountains. We’ve been living here for ten milleniums and I never think that we’ll be any dumber than now.

This is Norway, now there’s no way back.

THE FEELING YOU FEEL WHEN YOU REALIZE IT’S REAL

Fat rats down in the basement , fresh puke parked on the pavement. Grey smell of dust and diesel, a bad wound from a biting weasel. Dirty socks and a soft rock classic, dirty words from a football fanatic. Cold potatoes, leftover gravy , my cousin’s haircut when he left the navy.

And the feeling you feel when you realize it’s real.

The world is ugly, it’s full of ugly things. The world is ugly, and if you got a little bit of ugly in your mind, you’ll be fine.

A little village seen from an airplane, a leaf detail seen through a drop of rain. A quiet porch in soft September sun, a shy kid when school has just begun. An ace of spades with a telephone number, a freckled face signed by summer. An old copy of ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s, a favourite coffee cup, a Beach Boys harmony.

And the feeling you feel when you realize it’s real.

The world is pretty, it’s full of pretty things. The world is pretty and if you got a little bit of pretty in your mind, you’ll be fine.

BOY WITH A BAND PART 2

Thank you. Thank you in advance.

Help me out now. Kan’t make it on my own. Help me out now. I kan’t do it all alone.

Battery and bass, konfidence and safety, add a good guitar, shine on mine and save me.

Help us out now, we’re not as strong as we seem. Help him out now, help her out now, help them out now, everybody needs a team.

The resonance of hearts pounding at the same pace. The bigger sum of parts when senses blend in right ways.

A tongue to taste my inspiration, ears to tune in to my station, eyes for my imagination, nose for new nuance, a feeling for totality, the touch of personality, one that will enhance, so thank you in advance.

Help me out now, I need another voice. Help us out now, we need another noise.

Do you smell the boom? Do you hear the flowers? Bursting into bloom, fusing our powers.

And like the sea we need the sky, we feed the sky to unify, to rain the same rain in Spain and Germany and France. We are like vapor, ice and water - all potensials of each other. But changing is to chance, so thank you in advance.

Help me out, lend a hand and a heart. Help us out, join the band, be a part!

Thanx for saving me. Thank you in advance.

MUTE SEASONS

Try to do it, think a single thought, isolate a piece of mind. Try to view it in the mikroskope, take it out, then put it in your mouth and chew it. Kan a taste be kaught? Keep it in your mouth for now.

Winter turns to spring. A tiny thing the snow has kovered is revealed. Still dark is eating light. Spring grows into summer, brains grow dumber, nouns get sunny but unreal, wrongs are fighting rights.

Verify it, voice a single word, low and only to the mirror. Amplify it, let the word be heard, utter it in open to a friend. Or kry it, put it in a song if that is what it takes

Summer ends and autumn mends these silly little sentences where sun was only misspelt rain. Autumn turns to winter, words begin to freeze in shapes of endless pain, transparent to yourself. Winter turns to spring again and in the end it’s only black and white left. Black is blinding, white is boring.

Reverse it, blow your tries apart, pick up all the broken english. Yell and kurse it, never akt too smart, trash the mikroskope as well. And don’t rehearse it, play it all by ear kause that is what it takes.

METABOLISM BLUES

Are you satisfied with yourself? With your hips, your lips, your nose? Are your features found on the high shelf? Shiny skin, firm chin, straight toes? Well I hate to let you down: This is how the future sounds.

Pay your dues, and hear your body play the blues.

There’s a song, there’s a change in your system, it’s so strange. Piece by piece you’re replaced, nothing ever stays the same. A billion beepers you kan’t snooze, it’s the Metabolism Blues.

Are you tired of yourself? Wrong hips, no lips, red eyes - all you wanna be is somebody else. You hate your bum, your thumb, your thighs. I don’t know how to cheer you up, but maybe mother nature kan.

It’s good news, it’s the metabolism blues.

So tune in to the change in your system, it’s so strange. Piece by piece you’re repaired, let it happen, it’s just there. A billion gifts you kan’t refuse, it’s the metabolism blues.

Are you satisfied with yourself? Ok, I shouldn’t have asked. We all will have our ups and downs, but this is how the future sounds. Seven years from now. Listen to it.

There’s a song, there’s a change, in your system. It’s so strange, cell by cell you’re replaced, everything except your brain. It’s the everlasting change, and you kan’t live without it. It’s unbelievable but true, it’s biologikal voodoo! So you better get used to the metabolism blues.

GO SEE THE BEATLES

Eight days a week, eight days a week.

I wanna go see the Beatles, I hope that you're koming too, I wanna go see the Beatles with you. I wanna go see the Beatles, I hope that you're koming too, I wanna go see the Beatles with you.

And I know: If Lennon komes alive again, if Harrison gets high again, if Paul and Ringo try again, we will have a good time. We will have a good time.

I wanna go see the Beatles, I want you to be there too, I wanna go see the Beatles with you. I wanna go see the Beatles, that's what I'm going to do, I gonna go see the Beatles with you.

And I know that we kan work it out again, that we kan twist and shout again, if you don’t let me down again. We kan have a good time. We kan have a good time.

Eight days a week I love you. Eight days a week I love you.

But I know that Lennon is long dead and kold, and Harrison as well I’m told, and Paul and Ringo are too old. Where are all the good times? Where are all the good times?

I wanna go see the Beatles, I hope that you're koming too, I wanna go see the Beatles with you. I wanna go see the Beatles, I hope that you're koming too, I wanna go see the Beatles with you.

I wanna go see the Beatles, I wanna go see the Beatles, I wanna go see the Beatles , I wanna go see the Beatles, Beatles, Beatles. We will have a good time. We will have a good time. We will have a good time. We must have a good time.