Lyrics | The Burning Hell

Here are the words to some of our songs. If there's a song that you want lyrics for that isn't listed below, its omission is due entirely to laziness on our part, and you can send us a message and chastise us for our slack artist work ethic and ask for the lyrics, and we will slap our own wrists very hard and post the lyrics on this page right away.

Animal Hides

Hello birds in the bushes, hello cows in the sheds
Hello fish in the rivers, crayfish in river beds
The students say we can learn something from you
And for once what the students say is true

Every animal has seen an animal die
And every animal needs somewhere to hide

The flood has been coming since the idea began
The hunter’s right behind you so hide if you can
Watch out for meteors be careful with knives
When you run you should run for your lives

God help you if you are alone
God help you if you are alone
If they said he’d help you, they lied
Every animal needs somewhere to hide

Berlin Conference

Why have I called you here? I guess I’ve got a thing for meetings
But please, take a chair, let’s get past the formal greetings
It’s so cold outside, let’s ponder wandering the tropics
And get to work tabling the topics that we’re here to discuss
Disgust runs through my northern veins when I consider what we’re wasting
think of the southern gains we could all be tasting
speaking of taste, waiter, another gin and tonic
Don’t look at me that way, Teutonic thirst is chronic and this is thirsty work.

Let’s not be gentle, gentleman, this project’s continental
Oh, don’t worry about that spill, friend, the tablecloths are rentals
Pass me the map and the brandy, I’ve got a pen already
Where’s the ruler? Where’s the compass? Ready, hold it steady…now, will you look at that!
Some call us rivals, they say we’ve got interests not friends
Well you say tomato, and I say dividends
Divided we stand but united we’ll do business
is this civilized or what? Can I get a witness, let’s sign this and light a cigar!

Oh, far be it for me to presume or decide
I just called the meeting I’m not taking sides
Side of beef? Cider? More port or maybe champagne
from the cellar, oh waiter we’ll need you again
It’s best to be under the influence, oh
When deciding our spheres of influence, no
Scrambling’s for eggs not for colonization
Sit settle down just relax and be patient
Here is a piece of the pie for you, and here is a piece of the pie for you too
And for you, no pie, after all you came late! Do you ask for a kiss on the very first date
So lodge a complaint, it’s a hodgepodge a paint by numbers call it whatever you want
But let’s focus on finding a final agreement, OK? I’m too drunk to think any more and I say

50 is the magic number, wormless are the birds who slumber
in three months we’ll do it let’s begin

Dance Dance Dance

I was born much too early – surely, surely prematurely.
But I already knew that I wanted more by the time the placenta hit the floor.

And it wasn’t too much later, lying inside my incubator
Clenching my tiny newborn fists, trying to slit my little newborn wrists

So I went to see the rabbi. I said ‘rabbi, why why why why why?’
He said ‘I’ve read the Torah and I’ve read the Talmud. You get born, you meet some people & then you die.’

He said ‘everybody has a tiny Pope inside their head!
Go forth and multiply – that’s all the tiny Pope ever says.’

Then he said ‘cause after all is said and done, from womb to tomb and sperm to worm
There’s nothing much else to do, so you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do:

Dance, dance, dance, and romance.
You just can’t help but dance.
Dance, dance, dance, and romance.
Take off your pants and dance.

Dancer/Romancer

From the smallest ant to the tallest tree
Everything has something in common with me
The baby ant starts as a gleam in the daddy ant eyes
And all the ants they are going to die

The tall tree only got tall by chance
Successfully competing with the other plants
Taking little plants’ water and little plants’ light
Avoiding the forest fires, the beetles and the chainsaw bite

We’re all line dancing in a furnace of sex and misfortune
And the fires are scorching, but if we keep dancing we will survive
We’re all romancing just as much as is romantically possible
As much as it costs it will all be worth it at the end of the night when we’re still alive

Look at the little baby with its little baby hands and eyes
Looking at the world with little baby surprise
Looking like a little baby you and me
Yet another little miracle of genetic potpourri

When the little baby plays in his little baby box of sand
Will he crush the little ants with his little hands
Will a lightning storm bring the tall tree crashing down
On the little sandbox and when it does, will there be a little sound
If there’s no-one around?

Keep dancing, dancers and keep romancing, romancers
I told you before, in a different song: that’s all you can do.

Everybody Needs A Body (To Be Somebody)

I was out for a walk downtown last Saturday night
Coming back from a show or something like that
And I looked up at the sky and it was dark and covered with clouds
And I thought about how I needed to get some kind of job

And I thought about how living out of a van isn’t as romantic as it’s made out to be
Especially when the only one in the van is me
And I sat down on the curb and watched a squirrel get hit by a car
And I wondered where you are, whoever you are

Every bit of the body needs something to do
Every good album needs a slow song or two
So out with the adenoids and in with the ballads
Every future needs androids, every model needs salads

Well as I was sitting there looking from the dead squirrel to the distant taillights of the car that hit it
I thought about how if I did have a real job I’d probably last two weeks and then quit it
And I thought about how my van was pretty nice after all and since I was in my 30s now it seemed appropriate to be driving a minivan anyway
Even if I didn’t have an apartment or my own driveway

And then some university girls passed me on their way to 80s night and they were all wearing the same kind of pants
I was sitting on the curb so I didn’t notice their faces but they all seemed excited to dance
And I thought about how when I dance people often think I have some kind of rare syndrome or disease
So I don’t dance too often but I’d like to dance as often as I pleased

Cause every bit of the body needs something to do
Even agoraphobics need the occasional public rendezvous
You’ve got to keep dancing if you want to meet some kind of woman or some kind of man
And we’re all dancing as fast as we can

Everybody needs a body to be somebody
Everybody needs a body to be somebody….

Everything Will Probably Be OK

This is a simple little song
There’s nothing wrong with a simple song
It’s not about death or fear
Unlike most of the songs on here
This record’s got plenty of those
Well I write about what I know
That’s alright but you’ve got to lighten up
To make it through the years

I guess I’m guilty of repetition
But I like themes and I like tradition
Well it’s OK to always sing
About animals and things
And to use the same old chords
That’s not true, I’ve been using more
Well regardless, try to branch out
Don’t write about sad things anymore

‘Cause everything will probably be OK
Tomorrow’s just another word for today
Well I’m pretty sure, that that’s a non sequitur
But I like this song so I’ll go along with whatever you say

Whenever you get depressed
Try to remember that you’re blessed
To play music for a living
Well I hardly call this living
It’s more like dying slowly
Oh Mathias, holy moly
When life gives you old tomatoes
You can make ravioli

‘Cause everything will probably be OK
Tomorrow’s just another word for today
Well you see the glass half full and I don’t see a glass at all
When I’m not depressed I’m bored and I end up staring at the wall

Whenever I get bored
I just play the omnichord
So why not play the ukulele
Or help out some Israelis
Well I do those things I guess
And I probably should complain less
But I think we might just be different
I see suck where you see success

But everything will probably be OK
And tomorrow’s just another word for today
That line still doesn’t make any sense at all to me
Whatever, at least I got you to agree

That everything will probably be OK
Tomorrow’s just another word for today
Nothing is permanent, but it’s pertinent to say
That everything will probably be OK

Everything You Believe Is A Lie

South America doesn’t exist
And the moon is painted on the sky
Things sometimes fall up, but you never see
And everything you believe is a lie.

Dinosaurs were invented by God as a test
And our bodies don’t rot when we die
The hippies are working for the government
And everything you believe is a lie.

Lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie.
Everything you believe is a lie.

There are wee tiny dwarves inside your TV.
And nobody cares when you cry.
Your mother resents you; she wanted a girl
And everything you believe is a lie.

Lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie.
Everything you believe is a lie.

It’s been years
But I’ve never loved you
And I never will
Though I’ve tried
We’ll never get married
I’m dating your sister
And everything you believe is a lie.

Lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie.
Everything you believe is a lie.

Grave Situation Part 1

Well here’s a little story about a woman that I knew –
It’s no allegory I guarantee it’s all quite true
So I expect you to believe me though you won’t believe your ears
Pay attention, listen up, though you may tremble with fear
You see this woman that I spoke of had a quarrel with her lover;
It seems she had discovered he’d been sleeping with another
And it was on this very spot in June of 1987
That they fought and then he shot her and she died and went to heaven
Or at least that’s what the priest said as he read the funeral rights
But something strange was going on amongst the tombstones that night
Just when everybody thought her immortal soul was saved
We were all quite surprised to learn that she had risen from the grave.

She said “Aloha, I’m back, I’ve got some business to do.
I’ll be back in my casket before the night is through
But first I’ll pay a visit to a certain prison cell
And see my cheating husband, and send him straight to hell.”

We were speechless as she left us to find the fiend she’d married
Til someone said ‘she’s looking good for a girl who’s just been buried
But you know we ought to stop her – should we call up the police?’
I said ‘she’s the living dead – they can do as they please.’
Besides, she was heading to the station house herself
where her husband was awaiting trial in a holding cell
The sergeant was surprised to see a corpse walk through the door
But he said ‘sorry ma’am, visiting hours are 2-4’
She laughed and said ‘I’m dead, and I don’t have all day!
So if you’d kindly stand aside and show me the way?’
And the sergeant said ‘of all right then – he’s in cell #6’
Besides, he thought, I really don’t get paid enough for this.
He was sleeping on his cot when she came into the cell
And ever since the murder he had not slept very well
When he opened up his eyes at first he thought it was a dream
But she began to speak before he had a chance to scream.

She said “Aloha, I’m back, I’ve got some business to do.
I’ll be back in my casket before the night is through
But first I’ll make you pay for your cheating and your lies –
So honey, prepare to die.”

Now some say it was a heart attack, some say it was a stroke
And some will say the whole thing was invented as a joke
But I tell you, it’s a fact and it all happened right here -
When he saw his undead wife, he simply died of fear.

Grave Situation Part 2

See my skin peel away right off of my head
Look at my cheeks all pulpy and red
They’re the same cheeks you kissed when I was a kid
So long, so long ago.

See my little shriveled hands like the claws of a bird
I know it sounds crazy, I know it seems absurd
But they’re the same hands that touched you and drove you insane
So long, so long ago.

These bones: take them in your arms
This skin: touch it one more time.
I may be dead, but you’re still mine.

See my curled up lips pucker up for a kiss
See my brittle little hips, see my bony fingertips
These same fingers were crossed when I said ‘til death do us part’
So long, so long ago.

And look at my hair – it’s out of control, it keeps growing and growing and oh my soul
Is trapped in this box and I can’t do nothing, I’m down in this hole
My eyes may be gone but I can still hear every word you whisper in some other ear
But soon you’ll be down here and we’ll be together again.

These bones: take them in your arms
This skin: touch it one more time.
I may be dead, but you’re still mine.

Grave Situation Part 3

A man loved a man who loved a woman who loved another man
All four of them made a plan to go to a music show
Wax Mannequin, he played The Price, the crowd went wild, he played it twice
They danced and sang until he stopped and then they shouted no

Play on play on but Wax was gone the crowd grew angry and with their drawn
and deadly fists and muscled wrists they tore each other into bits
And the man, the man the lady and the other man they turned and ran
Through flying kicks and pointed sticks and the gnashing teeth of angry kids

Man number one he made it and the lady made it too
But bits of flesh were all they left behind of man number four and number two
And when lady and man one were done with crying tears for everyone
They planned to leave the living land for the palace of the damned

Man one who loved no ladies bought an expensive black Mercedes
And drove it to the funeral and then drove it off a cliff
And the lady who loved the final man tied a belt onto a ceiling fan
And swung from it until the neighbors found her cold and stiff

And now all three men and lady have made the trip to Hades
Their love burns the hottest fires to ash and sends the demons panicking
And from the flaming rivers leaping fish made out of cinders
Splash and dance a fishy dance to the singing of Wax Mannequin

It Happens In Florida

Love, it’s like a hurricane: it happens in Florida, it gets into everything.
Love, it’s like a monster truck: it fills up whole stadiums, but it crushes smaller trucks
Love, it’s like a marmoset: it may be small and cute, but sometimes it eats its young
Love, it’s like a trailer park: ugly but functional, the rent is cheap enough
Love, it’s like a garbage man: it collects waste and filth, it smells like rotting flesh
Love, it’s like an interstate: it gets you from place to place, but it’s littered with dead raccoons
Love, it’s like a newborn child: seems interesting when it’s young, gets pedestrian after a while
Love, it’s like a hurricane: it happens in Florida, it destroys everything.

Last Will And Testament

When I die, bury me naked with my ukulele.
I played it daily when I was alive, so bury me with it when I die.
When I die, throw me a party; invite all my friends.
I loved my friends when I was alive so throw me a party when I die.
And when I die, play my favourite song – that one with all those saxophones.
I never liked saxophones when I was alive but play that song when I die.

And when I die don’t be too sad – but a little bit sad would be nice.
So if your eyes are red, honey, that’s alright.
Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine in my dirt and gravel bed.
When I die I won’t be sad, I’ll just be dead.

So when I die, bury me naked with my ukulele.
I played it daily when I was alive, so bury me with it when I die.

Old World

I remember back when I was in the womb
It felt like I was the first baby on the moon
Blood cells were the stars and the placenta was the earth
and I had amniotic fluid as my space food

and I made all kinds of plans for when I got out
the things I would do the things I’d talk about (when I learned to talk)
and for when I learned to walk I planned the places I would go to
like new Brunswick and the mall and the Toronto zoo.

And from the uterus I planned out the world I would create
I’d ride a scooter or a bus and I would go on dates
And in the evenings I’d stay in and concentrate
On drafting plans for my own benevolent state

Yes I wanted to see that new world
That big brown black green and blue world
I was getting bored with the small old world I was in
I wanted to make that new world

My world would be a place where everyone would play saxophones
But never soprano saxophones just tenors and baritones
And once in a trumpet and a rusty old French horn
Would play a solo and make us shake our little bones

I was an ambitious little unborn child
When the doctor did the ultrasound I winked and I smiled
Then I just relaxed and laid back for a while
I was patient cause that was kind of my style

But to be honest I was looking forward to getting out of there
And doing things like growing teeth and a bit of hair
But I was also thinking that the whole birth thing was unfair
Cause it would be over so quickly after so much time to prepare

And then I was finally born into the disease of the world
And so were thousands of other little boys and girls
And we shook our little fists at the sky and cried and hurled our insults
and our anger and took our flags and banners and unfurled them and they said:

“Take us back to the old world!
We don’t want this ugly new world!
We were much happier back then, and we want back in,
Take us back to the old world!”

Precious Island

Some sailors say they sail for several years and seldom see the sand at all
Oh I know that must be kind of dull
The sea’s a salty slippery friend it smells like fish and death and never ends
Oh you know this life is kind of dull

All we do is sail around for miles and miles and
All we want is a bit of dirt and sand
A little precious island

Precious island, precious island
When all the world is wet you bet we get a little funny in the head
And we don’t care if it’s Hamilton or somewhere with better hotels like maybe Thailand
Everything that’s not the sea
Is a little precious island to me

All we do is sail around for miles and miles and
All we want is a bit of dirt and sand
A little precious island
Precious island, precious island
When all the world is wet you bet we get a little funny in the head
And we don’t care if it’s Oshawa or somewhere with fewer trucks like the Scottish Highlands
Everything that’s not the sea
Is a little precious island to me

There’s a thousand reasons to hate the water
Unless you are a killer whale, a squid or a sea otter

You need a precious island, precious island
When all the world is wet you bet we get a little funny in the head
And we don’t care if it’s Pickering or somewhere where the cows are loud and the malls are silent
Everything that’s not the sea
Is a little precious island to me

Things That People Make

I love the buildings and the pavement and the malls
I love the factories I love the rubber balls
I love the ukuleles and the sound of spinning tape
I love the things that people make

I love the tricycles I love the synagogues
I love the Lego and I love the Lincoln Logs
I love the fishing lures I love the plumbers’ snakes
I love the things that people make

I love the Ginsu knives I love the garden gnomes
I love the way that people decorate their homes
I love the ovens and the casseroles they bake
I love the things that people make

I love the bowling balls I love the little wind up teeth
I love the manhole covers and I love the Christmas wreaths
I love the backyard goldfish ponds I love the artificial lakes
I love the things that people make

Things That People Make, Pt. 2

Like the things we don’t have names for you’re the dirt that makes the ground
Like a broken vacuum cleaner you just push the dirt around
Oh let’s not fight we don’t have all night
You’re right, you be the bait, I’ll be the bite

You’ll be the dictator I’ll be the oppressed
You’ll be the third world and I’ll be the West
You’ll be the last giant panda bear I’ll be the last giant panda bear sperm
You’ll be the baby bird and I’ll be the regurgitated worms

You’ll be the shooter girl and I’ll be the bar
You’ll be the frat boy I’ll be the guitar
You’ll be the lost kid at the zoo I’ll be the ice cream on your chin
You’ll be the newborn baby looking for a way back in

Thank God that I’ve got the things that I’ve got
But a lot of things I’ve got are things I never knew I needed til
I met you and you taught me a thing or two about things
Things like love and buildings, things like death and happy birthday cake
Things like how to give and never take
Things like the things that people make

You’ll be construction and I’ll be destruction
You’ll be the worker I’ll be the means of production
You’ll be the leftist student punk I’ll be the accountant you’ll become
You’ll be the minivan I’ll be the jeans you think make you look young

You Can Never Escape From Your History

Well I never really wanted to teach history
I had a degree in migration and ethnic studies
But somehow that was enough to qualify me
To teach the past to the future Toronto bourgeoisie

I was a bit nervous so I asked for advice
From a retired professor who I always thought was nice
He smiled and stroked his beard and rolled his 8-sided dice
And said there’s only one thing to remember and I’ll tell you twice

He said Thailand was never a colony
And an island is surrounded by a lake or a sea
These are things we can say with some certainty
And you will never escape from your history
No you will never escape from your history

I told him I understand what you’re saying, logically
But I’m not sure how to apply it pedagogically
He just sat there and repeated, one day you will see
That you can never escape from your history

So before I started teaching I decided to test his theory
I had a couple months’ vacation and my time was free
I thought what better destination than Germany
Which was once a nasty place for people like me

I saw a German hairstylist in a German hair salon
Her eyes were blue and her hair was blonde
I fell in love in a second and I put her in this song
I thought despite our antagonistic histories we could probably get along

So I asked her for a date and to my surprise she said yes
We went out for some bratwurst and I had to confess
I was looking for the truth of what my professor professed
She just smiled and said “that’s romantic, I guess.

And I understand the question but I think the point is moot
Yes I am a German atheist, you’re a Canadian Jew
But the past only hurts the present if you want it to
Remember it but don’t let it dictate terms to you
Remember it but don’t let it dictate terms to you.”