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blueberry pie
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Due to overwelming demand- the 12th anniversary re-release. Original mix from original master tape.
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Bipolar space blues, wavular and linguistic improvisation, with a side of porn
Welcome. There are usually about six of us in here. Individually, we are citizens. Together, we produce sound. Sound so vital that it can only be used for good or evil, depending on who is at the mic. Combined weight: 912 lbs. Favorite color: pink dark. --------------------------------------------------
Song Info
Genre
Alternative • Experimental
Charts
Peak #360
Peak in subgenre #40
Author
Spewkowski/blueWank
Rights
@1992 wankTunes
Uploaded
January 11, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.9 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Story behind the song
This is a true story. Henry was living on a farm in Iowa at the time. He was infatuated with Darlella, the girl from two farms south. They used to meet at “the cherry stand” which was a cluster of scrub trees about halfway between their farms. Years later, he ran into her again when he was a junior at State U outside of DesMoines, where Darlella was delivering produce to the co-op Henry volunteered for. They tried to hook up again an relive the post office of their youth, where it was revealed that Darlella had chosen an alternative life style. They had a good laugh, and, of course, shared a slice of blueberry pie. They keep in touch to this day, and when their schedules permit, meet up and knock off a slice.
Lyrics
As I was walking down the street one day, it occurred to me that everything was growing up. Blueberry pie. (Oh, what happened to my pants?) Get a knife and slice it. We got out of the car, paid ten bucks. “Pull it over there.” That’s the going in the out door syndrome. “Would you like to go into the restaurant, get a cup of coffee and, maybe, blueberry pie?” Let’s go frolic in the woods, run around in each other’s underwear, paint our toenails the same color as the roadway. Then we’ll go get some ice cream, a bottle of aspirin and a toy, and we’ll stop next door and get blueberry pie. (Oh, what happened to my pants?) Get a knife and slice it. Blueberry Pie. (later…) It occurred to me that there was no more forks in the drawer, the milk had gone sour, and the vines had all died. I still think of those days down at the cherry stand, having my blueberry pie with you. (Oh, what happened to my pants?) Blueberry pie. Get a knife and slice it.
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