Nigor Mortis - Chapter 5 - If You Were Living Here (With Me), You'd Already Be Home By Now

NIGOR MORTIS CHAPTER 5 COVER

19) WHERE DID THE MONEY GO?  1:43

Let’s write some corny rhymes 
I’ve got the time and these are my dimes 
Crooks and nannies cooking the books 
The fish are jumping off of the hooks 
Where did the money go, Where did all the 
Money go? Where did the money go, where 
Did all of the money go?

Let’s check the space satellites 
Maybe they send it there overnight 
Let’s ask the birds in the trees, 
They say ‘Gesundheit’, if you can sneeze 
Where did the money go, where did all of the money go? 
Where did the money go, where did all of the money go? 

Let’s ask the cynical man 
Maybe he has a financial plan 
Let’s keep an eye on your broker 
Is he a smoker, a practical joker? 
Where did the money go, where did all the money go? 
Where did the money go, where did all of the money go? 

Tell me, WHERE DID ALL THE MONEY GO?

Drums, Bass, Guitars, Vocals, Sananda


20) I NEVER KNEW HOW MUCH  3:38

I never knew how much I loved you 
Until they wrote a song about you!

Hip shaker, party maker, 
Candle you handle, my butcher 
Be in your baker? 
Fist pumping, the needle jumping 
Between my heartbeat 
And my nerve it rattled something 
“Settle down, don’t be so free” 
(she’d say) ‘Kiss my Jazz, 
I’ll be what I got to be’ 
Settle down, don’t be so free 
I’ll be what I’ve got to be

I never knew how much I loved you 
Until they wrote a song about you

The assumption of my function 
Is to meet you at the crossroads 
Of the junction 
Bull masters 
Wall street backers 
I fought the bears, 
Then took some chairs 
And beat the Packers 
Settle down, don’t be so free 
Kiss my Jazz, I’ll be what I got to be 
Settle down, don’t be so free 
I’ll be what I got to be

I never knew how much I loved you 
Until they wrote a song about you

Sweet rebel, snatch my pebble 
If they can’t kill you with the lance 
They’ll use the label 
Sensation 
Animation 
Wake up your nerve 
And take the deeper penetration 
“Settle down, don’t be so free” 
‘Kiss my Jazz, I’ll be what I go to be 
Settle down , don’t be so free 
I’ll be what I’ve got to be

I never knew how much I loved you 
Until they wrote a song about you!

Drums, Bass, Guitars, Vocals, Sananda


21) DECEMBER IN TRAIN  3:20

Some say it was just pneumonia 
That December 
But I found my love in California 
That December 
That December 
December in the Rain!

Knocked out by a certain fever 
That December 
It made of me a true believer 
That December 
That December 
December in the Rain!

These things, they take on 
A mind of their own 

Swept up off my feet and restless 
That December 
Now I’m a fool and I couldn’t care less 
(since) That December 
That December 
December in the Rain!

These things, they take on 
A mind of their own 

Captured by a sudden smile 
That December 
Blinded for a little while 
That December 
That December 
December in the Rain!

Drums, Bass, Acoustic Guitar, Guitars, Vocals, Sananda

 

22) O LOVELY GWENITA  3:24

O lovely Gwenita 
I’m so happy to meet ‘ya 
Because I think I love you 
It is not a tangible thing 
But if it were a tangerine, 
I would eat it 
O lovely Gwenita 
I’m so happy to meet ‘ya 
Because I think I love you 
I cradle you into my arms 
And label you with all of the charms 
Inside me

I look into the Sun 
As the sunlight flashes 
And look into your eyes 
As the moon relaxes 
O lovely Gwenita 
I’m so happy to meet ‘ya 
Because I think I love you 
I pour a drink into the glass 
Waiting for the moments to pass 
‘til I see you

Look into the sun 
As the sunlight flashes 
Look into your eyes 
As the moon relaxes

O lovely Gwenita 
I’m so happy to meet ‘ya 
Because I think I love you 
My sisters are gathered around me 
And if they had not come and found me 
I’d be floating

O lovely Gwenita 
I’m so happy to meet ‘ya 
Because I think I love you 
(even when people are screaming, I think of you and start dreaming, instead)

Drums, Bass, Piano, Electric Piano, Strings, Vocals, Sananda

 

23) THIS TOWN  3:37

I’ve been around 
And I waited for the day 
When a lover would shine on me 
I stood my ground 
And I witnessed there 
That there were only clouds of despair 
And ladies in their mansions, who combed their hair

This town won’t love you 
If you pay your taxes on the run 
This town won’t love you if you stay 
This town won’t love you 
Unless you lay your heart out on a plate 
And stamp it with an expiration date 
This town won’t love you, this town 

I ran around 
And I played the field 
And laid with women who would not yield 
There all to me 
So I was confused 
All I got were my Springsteen’s bruised 
Though I had a lot of fun being used

This town won’t love you 
If you pay your taxes on the run 
This town won’t love you if you stay 
This town won’t love you 
Unless you lay your heart out on a plate 
And stamp it with an expiration date 
This town won’t love, this town

I was a boy 
Who became a man 
According to nature’s master plan 
I was a fool 
Who believed in romance 
And believed in a 2nd chance 
With ladies in their mansions, a slow lap dance

This town won’t love you 
If you pay your taxes on the run 
This town won’t love you if you stay 
This town won’t love you 
Unless you lay your heart out on a plate 
And stamp it with an expiration date 
This town won’t love, I said this town

Drums, Bass, Piano, Keyboards, Horns, Vocals, Sananda


NIGOR MORTIS CHAPTER 5

IF YOU WERE LIVING HERE (WITH ME), YOU'D ALREADY BE HOME BY NOW

‘NIGOR MORTIS’ - Somewhere between ‘Rigor Mortis’, and ‘Vigor Mortis’ lies ‘Nigor Mortis’. “I know what it feels like when the heat comes up, the hammer comes down and ‘NIGOR MORTIS’ sets in”. - Sananda Maitreya!

Songs- 

...• Where did the Money go?
...• I Never Knew How Much
...• December in the Rain
...• O Lovely Gwenita
...• This Town


NIGOR MORTIS - A CRITICAL MASS, CHAPTER 5 INTRO:

Nathan Cincinnati loved the feel of the moist warm breeze as it blew upon his forehead and what was left of his hair in the wind, not including those parts still pulled tight in his loafer friendly pony tail. He had a broad face, ruddy and loved the sun, in fact it were said that his head was so large, he didn’t have a forehead as much as a five-head (his mother reassured him as a child that it were a sign of prowess). Still he loved being here doing business in Southern California as opposed to cold ass Detroit, where he was from, which this time of year could make even nuns teeth chatter (though they tried not to make a ‘habit’ of it). The pleasures of sucking the air from his convertible rental were soon challenged by this one central fact. Nathan was 54 solid healthy years old and had to pee, more forthrightly, had to pee NOW. For those familiar with the cross hatched freeways of Southern California, truly no man is an island, and his car won’t find one either. So, when you have to pull over, you take your evolutionary chances and wish for the best. He grits his molars, spies his chance. And who knows at what age it hits a man when it comes at you so hard, without warning? 
Slinging his car to the right, in a lurch as if in a bumper car, he slams his brakes, hops out of his door, with his attention firmly on the proper place to drain his claim. O My God, a Bush! And with that, and immense gratitude, he empties himself of that blasted caffeine. Not having put on his emergency lights drew the attention of a plump hipped highway patrolwoman who offered a nod of empathy as she multitasked by listening to his explanation while writing him the ticket nonetheless. 
Being he, he wondered what it would be like to just take a policewoman, just have her outright in the back of her squad car, but allowed his mind to snap back to reality when she told him to move on. Getting back in his Chrysler, he noticed up on the apartment building on the other side of the divide, in front of where he had taken his slash, a banner which read, IF YOU LIVED HERE YOU WOULD BE HOME BY NOW! He thought, ‘Yeah, if I’d lived there, I wouldn’t have gotten this stupid ticket’. The incident didn’t sour the rest of Mr. Cincinnati’s drive back to his hotel too much, his company would pay the ticket. He enjoyed his working holidays in sunny Southern California cities. It was the price of doing business. He was annoyed at himself later though for not getting the policewoman’s phone number. But that was Nathan. He would soon enough be back in Detroit, blowing on his hands to keep them warm, and regaling the boys back in the bureau with tales of his deeds and conquests in the land of pampered emperors, rich expectations, and buildings with philosophical banners.


And ready to dig into the evening meal, to dive into it more like, Sananda reached for the broccoli, as he didn’t wish for the rest of the food on the plate to feel ostracised and lonely. At that moment the voice of Mrs. Maitreya breaks the gluttony with a suggestion. “Why don’t you do one of the songs for the last chapter in Latin?” She then gets up briskly from her chair and retires to the library to return with one of her college dictionaries, a Latin one. “Since ‘Nigor Mortis’ is faux Latin, maybe you can try a song in it”. Great idea, and bold, but perhaps I might finish my chicken first, before digesting such a challenge (and while I wasn’t too certain if it were ‘faux’ Latin, I certainly knew that it wasn’t against it). Since the original title of the song ‘I Never Knew How Much’ were at first another, I toyed with the idea of making that the Latin piece, though with but a week to go until the recordings, I laid it aside and decided to revisit the idea at a later more self pronounced date. But what a cool idea, a song in Latin! In the dictionary, the closest match to Nigor Mortis were NEGRO MORTIS, and NERO MORTIS, and I were obliged to consider that, puns aside, it had perhaps come back to me through some kind of genetic memory, a DNA flashback, a dream implant. The meal and the beverage turned into a small primer for an ancient tongue. It is a privilege to eat well, a blessing to learn. Likewise a privilege to know good people, and moreover a great privilege to be able to share with you this final chapter of our odyssey, our bloodtrail, tracked by the hounds of hell until was screamed and declared ‘NIGOR MORTIS’. This chapter of songs, plucked from the mouth of future grapes, we submit to you humbly as ‘IF YOU LIVED HERE (with me), YOU’D ALREADY BE HOME BY NOW’. With what time you are blessed to give them, enjoy these offerings!

Sananda Francesco Maitreya!


All songs written, produced, performed and arranged by Sananda 
Recorded and engineered by Matteo ‘Sergente’ Sandri 
Mixed by Sandri and Sananda Assisted by Giorgio Bau 
Recorded at Casa Logic studios over the course of 10 days in February 2009,
In Milano Italia.

Strings and horns played on a Kurzweil 
Drums were Yamaha Stage Custom, with Ufip and Paiste cymbals 
Bass is a Fender Jazz ‘70’s 
Guitars were Gibson Les Pauls (P-90’s) 
Amps were Marshall JCM 2000, Vox Pathfinder 15, and a Kustom (model kaa16)
…and we made some use of our ‘Q-tron’ toy. Hope you enjoy!

All songs property of Treehouse Publishing.

During the recording, the studio owner, Francesco and his wife gave birth to a daughter, Agnese, we dedicate this chapter to her. May she have a good, healthy life! 
We also dedicate these songs to those who love music for its own sake. 
We thank Giorgio Bau for his support, Mattia Pittella for snares, Maceo, Margherita and the staff at Treehouse Publishing, our web dominatrix St Lily of Lelystad and my dear wife, friend and apologist, Francesca Francone Maitreya. We as well, thank you! 

OM MANI CHRISTUM

© COPYRIGHT TREEHOUSE PUBLISHING 2009 – ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

www.SanandaMaitreya.com