Honeymoon For One

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Somewhere Else

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When I fall in love, when I win the fight, when I rise above, when I know just why, when I get a break, when I make it big, when I get my cake, when I make it rich: Happiness is somewhere else.
When I lose the weight, when I make amends, when I clean the slate, when I make new friends, when I get the girl, when I get that job, when I get the house, when I at last find god: Happiness is somewhere else.
When I don’t get old, when I’m born again, when I find the gold, when I slay the dragon … Oh how the grass is green … Hop in my time machine.

Crowded

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I hardly see you. I hardly know you. I think I like you but I don’t know. I wear a lab coat. I sift the data. I crunch some numbers and out pops you.
Well I want my mind back … since you moved on in and set up shop. You’re stealing all my space. Who invited you in anyway? Why don’t you go away?
I didn’t need you. Someone said try you. I’d rather hate you than feel so weak. Twenty six trillion thoughts have come before you. So please move over. I have things to do …
Like get my mind back … since you moved on in and set up shop. You’re stealing all my space. Who invited you in anyway? Why don’t you goaway?
Jesus, it’s so crowded in here, crowded in here.
Well I want my mind back … since you moved on in and set up shop. You’re stealing all my space. Who invited you in anyway? Why don’t you go away?

Handbag

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Oh please … Please won’t you buy me a handbag? Pretty please won’t you buy it today? Don’t show me no love, I’ll give you a shove into Prada to buy me a handbag.
Did you hear? Did you hear that they emptied the treasury? All the gold was thrown into the sea. Handbags have become the new currency. (Now let’s get back to little old me.)
I want it! I need it! Must have it now!
I’ll trade you ten pork bellies for my Louis Vuitton. I’ll trade you six barrels of oil. I’ll trade you my mother, I’ll sleep with your brother, as long as I got me a handbag.
Are you worth your weight in handbags? Are you worth your weight in Dior? We can’t pay the rent, our savings are spent, but at least I got me a handbag.

Layover Man

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She’s got that thing, that thing he likes. She marches in step with nobody in sight. She says “My friend’s in a band, they’re playing out tonight. Meet me at eight.” He’s pretty sure it’s a date. They paint the town racing through the streets. He’s in tip-top form, he’s high on her speed. They get to the show, some drummer girl says hello. Now she’s playing a song, his pseudo-date hums along.
He looks to dream girl. He looks to drummer girl. He looks again. Are they more than just friends? Oh no, not this again. He’s falling for a lesbian.
He got a call from his friend named Tess. Well her girlfriend just left, she’s in a bit of distress. They had a thing, a fling, way back when, and now she’s single again. She says “Come over at ten.” “Don’t do it man although it feels so right! It’s a dead end street. You’ll be wasting your time.” Tess moves in for the kill, next thing a blur in her bed. Then it’s over and done and he’s caught up in his head.
“Hey Tess, I love you. I shouldn’t ask for more. Let’s get married, Tess!” She bolts out the door. Oh no, not this again. He’s falling for a lesbian.
“Hey it’s not your fault,” his friends try and comfort him. “You didn’t turn them away from men.You didn’t make them lesbian. Hey, you’re really specialized. Take it as a compliment. You’re just the layover man … or the last man they can stand.”
Oh no, not this again. He’s falling for a lesbian.

I’d Rather

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I’d rather go, I’d rather go to the dentist today. I wanna know how far I’d go to avoid that old familiar low.
No novocain to numb the pain. Well I’ll take it in place of more of the same. So yank my teeth, won’t hear a peep. In fact it would be a sweet relief.
Ah ………
I’d rather be, I’d rather be on a chain gang today. I’ll break my back beneath the sun. Safety in rhythm, I fear the work be done.
I’d rather clean, I’d rather clean fifty toilets on my knees. Those bowls would shine, lose track of time, and at least my mind would be mine.
Ah ………

Kiss A Stranger

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It’s February, days are long. The winter’s here, yet something’s gone wrong. There’s something different in the air, it’s eighty-two, we have no cares. I’m on my bike, I eat ice cream. I soak up sun, we all daydream. Pensive, punchy, light and free til duty calls at half past three.
Lonely longing, anticipation: I wanna kiss a stranger. I’m a sitting duck, I’m a spinning top: I wanna kiss a stranger.
Another wedding, five this year. Suck it up, can’t disappear. Well what a coup for Bud and Lorraine, skies are clear, no threat of rain. Penguin suits and panty hose, I turn up late with sun-burnt nose. Set my sites on navy blue, I’ll make my move when dinner’s through.
We eat and drink and eat some more, I nearly heave on the dance floor. Set up camp at table eight, I cannot move, I overate. Bridesmaid six finds me inert, face down in shrubs, I’m eating dirt. Hence global warming reared its head, I missed my chance, sent off to bed.
Lonely longing, anticipation: I wanna kiss a stranger. I’m a sitting duck, I’m a spinning top: I wanna kiss a stranger.
Be Still

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Oh be still, don’t lose yourself. You won’t miss the boat, you just miss yourself. I wanna feel some ease, I wanna feel some peace. Oh please make … make me be still.
I wanna be a doggy, wanna be a baby. Don’t wanna wanna all the time, wanna try on lazy.
Tie me up and hold me down, don’t let me get away. I wanna turn it off and sleep for forty days.
Oh be still, don’t lose yourself. You won’t miss the boat, you just miss yourself. I wanna feel some ease, I wanna feel some peace. Oh please make me … make me be still.

Game On

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The party must end, everyone goes home. The curtain descends, and how we get old. Mommy, hold me. Can’t sleep, can’t sit still. Help me, oh please, if you’re real and you’re listening.
Starfish so broken. Pause for a moment. Shut down, re-open … Game on.
Gramma had faith, she talked to her Jesus. I tried but I strayed, distraction became a clutch. Dad says it’s bleak, he’ll be a dirt sandwich. And what about me? Something more or is this it?
Starfish so broken. Pause for a moment. Shut down, re-open … Game on.
Big D, my friend, yank me down off my throne. If I trust I won’t end, will you show me the way home? Gramma gave in, felt her hand turn so cold. This just can’t be it. There’s something that must go on.

BFG

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I saw your picture in the paper. I saw your image on t.v. You’ve lost your bright-eyed optimism. You’ve lost your dear integrity.
You used to really listen and you stuck to your own guns. You fought the good fight faithfully til you found out how it’s done.
I caught you in our bed with big business, and I hear you bend over for special interests. How can I ever trust when you betray? You go and tell me one thing and when I look the other way …
There’s Big Fat Garbage coming out of your mouth!
So choose the less of two vast evils. Choose but either way you lose.
You prey upon our fears with your big promises. Just fight the war on terrorists, your new communists.
Cause absolute power corrupts … absolutely and it’s never enough. I won’t shut up and shop, screw your puppet show. But maybe you should shop for a shiny new soul?
Cause there’s Big Fat Garbage coming out of your mouth!

Dimples

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Bumpy craters, dark grooves and dents: That’s what extra definition will lend. People love dimples, but not in mass. I all but left you for dead. Thoughts of chemicals danced in my head. I prayed you’d be gone. Too much to ask.
Even the hot girl has it. Even those athletes get it. Even the stars can’t hide it. So the magazines highlight it.
Learning to love my cellulite. I’m learning to love my cellulite. Yes I am learning to love my cellulite. Learning to love my cellulite.
Like smooth ripples on a lake, like swirled frosting on a cake: Now I reclaim you, cottage cheese thighs! Be it young, hearty or svelte, no one’s impervious to what they’ve been dealt. So screw your smooth skin. Won’t last anyhow.
Even the hot girl has it. Even those athletes get it. Even the stars can’t hide it. So the magazines highlight it.
Learning to love my cellulite. I’m learning to love my cellulite. Yes I am learning to love my cellulite. Learning to love my cellulite.

Cescalona

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Francesca Baby, I don’t mean maybe. You’re the perfect pink piggiest of a little lady. Crazy, alright! I wanna gobble you up tonight. Some call you Frankie, the not-so-lanky. We’re all a bunch of Francophiles, but not in the froggy sense … in the piggy sense, she’s my heart’s content. You’re three little pigs rolled into one. I’m the big bad wolf and I’ve come undone. You’re so tender in all your pot-bellied splendor.
Cescalona, my little Cesca: Reigning runt in residence, your pancetta’s heaven-sent. Wilbur had nothing on you. Frankalonie, darling Franka: Your baloney boasts the best. You’re a cut above the rest. You’re the perfect piggy of our dreams!
Francesca Baby, you’re my favorite swine. Your pork chops are tops, your prosciutto’s divine.
Then there’s Miss Piggy, she’s rather twiggy compared to my succulent piggly wiggly. Her pink complexion extols her porky perfection. Some piggies go to market, some piggies stay home, some piggies have roast beef, some piggies have none. Some piggies cry wee wee all the way home.
Cescalona, my little Cesca: Reigning runt in residence, your pancetta’s heaven-sent. Wilbur had nothing on you. Frankalonie, darling Franka: Your baloney boasts the best. You’re a cut above the rest. You’re the perfect piggy of our dreams!

Say I Do

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No more lonely Friday nights, no more sunsets filled with sighs. No more cats, no more cookies, no more crappy dates. No more fear of missing out, no more heartbreak, no more doubt. You were there, all along, so to you I sing this song.
Will you marry me … me? I wanna marry me … me! Hey I’m talking to you … I mean me. Booked a honeymoon for one, costs me half as much for twice the fun. No more frisbee on the beach, got my boomerang.
Oh how I’ve waited and waited for this fairy tale to come true. So please marry me, I’m so perfect for me! Oh please marry me … Say “I Do.”
Well I loved me, then I loved me not. Now I love me again, this time for real.
Oh how I’ve waited and waited for this fairy tale to come true. So please marry me, I’m so perfect for me! Oh please marry me … Say “I Do.”

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All Songs by Candace Roberts • Produced by Bonnie Hayes • Mixed and Mastered by Jim Dean