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1.
Good Night Then Good night then—
 Sleep to gather strength for the morning, For the morning will come. Brightly it will shine on the brave and true, Kindly upon all who suffer for the cause, Gloriously upon the tombs of heroes— Thus will shine the dawn.... (Words by Winston Churchill; Music by E. Morneau)
2.
There Was a Time There was a time when I would look both ways There was a time when I could see;
 There was a time when day held back the night There was a time when I was free. To sleep, perchance, to dream all day To shed this mortal coil
 All that’s weary gives me pause
 To bring these sins to boil. There was a time when I could bear the scorn
 Of oppression’s wrath and pride
 There was a time when law delayed was primed For love to turn the tide. To take up arms against the sea To grunt and sweat and die,
 To bear this long calamity Puzzles me to lie. (Based on William Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Act III, Scene I)
3.
Albatross 05:04
Albatross Floatin’ past the Rubicon (Water all ‘round me)
 My Chevy & the Levee’s gone (Land under the sea)
 Looking for a new day to last all night long
 Flight of a new bird....Albatross.... Driftin’ like a piece of wood (Screaming fills the air) Stagger forth this stick of mud (There’s nothing left to fear) Praying for some answers for questions not yet asked Lookin’ for some dry land Albatross... Albatross
 To live beyond all dreams. Bo-Jafo-keh, anir-tak Bo-Jafo-keh, anir-tak Bo-Jafo-keh, anir-tak Bo-Jafo-keh, anir-tak Fighting back the tempest storm (Wind carves up the soul) Holdin’ back the infant born (Time without the holes) Sleeping past the end of days, walking through the night Feathers fall and I pray
to the Albatross... Albatross... To live beyond all dreams.
4.
Like Boo Radley Did Buildings, boxes, paper foxes—
 Logs and leaves look like your mother’s smile Go ahead and try to beguile
 How many minutes are in a while?
 I wish I could admire you and still remain hid— Come to your rescue when you need it
 Just like Boo Radley did. Inches, wormholes, deadly toxins—
 Is this only a hurricane?
 Go ahead and try to explain
 Why people will stand out in the rain
 I wish I could be a shut in, keep it all under lid— Leave you presents in a tree trunk Just like Boo Radley did. Letters, old flames, tiny board games—
 I wish you would call me home
 Go ahead and try to toss the stone
 At the man who refuses to hit the road,
 I wish that I had known you when you were just a kid— Hold your hand on the front porch Just like Boo Radley did. (Words by Ryan Walsh; Music by E. Morneau)
5.
Here Comes the Sky King Again Here comes the Sky King Again I don’t know where to begin Shadow me, come to me,
 Walk with me, run with me My friend.... Paper just falls from the sky Water runs wild in our eyes Shelter me your canopy, Threnody, insanity My friend ... Where do we go?
 When will we meet again? How will we know? There goes the harvest balloon Pipers will take back their tune Odeon calliope,
 Origami policy In ruins... my friend ... Where do we go?
 When will we meet again? How will we know?
6.
The Bonesmen 03:03
The Bonesmen All jaded schoolboys, sarcasm and lip
 If not for their swagger, they’d shoot from the hip These weekend warriors, lukewarm and dirt-cheap If you look a bit closer, they’ll lie through their teeth. Tired japes and bad jokes, pass the gin if you please
 You can take aim at anything when you’re shooting the breeze And no bomber jacket, no crest can conceal
 The brand from the cigarette that burns through your sleeve. The Bonesmen doth take and the Bonesmen doth give If you give them what they want they may let you live They may let you dine and then bring you back home And if you’re lucky...they won’t break your bones. The Bonesmen cometh, they’re dug in the dirt
 But none of them will fall for the Palace Alert
 They’ll lie like dead bugs at the foot of the bar
 ‘Cause some school-kid threadbare volunteers for the job. He’ll fight for the Bonesmen; she’ll smash in some skulls Get a nickname, earn medals, and get a job at the mall
 He has plenty of nads and now so does she
 Raise a glass to the Bonesmen who are shooting the breeze. The Bonesmen doth take and the Bonesmen doth give If you give them what they want they may let you live They may let you dance and then bring you back home And if you’re lucky they won’t sell your bones. If I could do it all over, I’d join in the club
 Not a brother in arms, but a flub a dub dub
 Pile my friends in a phone booth and then call a cab Then zig-zag the country in search of my dad. Raise a glass to the Bonesmen; oh it’s great to be free Let’s drink to the Bonesmen and their legacy
 Let us pray when the time comes for them to repent If God is a Bonesman they’ll be heaven sent. The Bonesmen doth take and the bonesmen doth give If you give them what they want the may let you live They may let you dine and then bring you back home And if you’re lucky they won’t give you the bone.
7.
Darfur, Oh Darfur Darfur, Oh Darfur ,
 We kneel as they beat in your face
 Which god-driven fury put you in this place?
 O Darfur, we fear that you’re very near dead
 Your mothers and children are there to be fed
 To the lions so the Horsemen can ride with the damned— Where’s your man? Darfur, Oh Darfur,
 The world said, “Never again,”
 But look, here we are, in a black hole of sin
 O Darfur, you’d think we’d learn to behave
 While Raphael Lemkin sleeps in his grave
 Somewhere, somehow-someone must have a new plan— Where’s the man? He’s over there with a knife and a gun Lost boys just having some fun. Darfur, Oh Darfur,
 What-do-you-have that we can use?
 We’ll make you an offer that you can’t refuse
 O Darfur, please help me to get through the day I can’t bear to witness, I must look away
 And shrug and pray and hope for remorse While we stay the course. Darfur, Oh Darfur,
 The secret’s not deep in your skin
 The world never wanted for you to come in
 O Darfur, I swear I fear that you’re cursed
 You make me feel helpless
 And I can’t think what’s worse
 I can’t do what’s right ‘cause I can’t see what’s wrong— I t’s all wrong. Now I have nothing to say You want me to just go away?
8.
Yes, Yes 04:27
Yes, Yes Yes to endless wars and certain fears Yes to bombing people over there
 Yes to making enemies of friends
 Yes to wasting substance without end. Yes to taking teaching out of school Yes to treat the scientist like a fool
 Yes to letting hatred fill the air
 Yes to God, I hope that He’s not queer. We have spoken, we’re not joking— Drink to all that we were once— Kneel before the dunce.
 Yes, yes, we say yes. Yes to all the faith that money heals Yes to Congress striking up the deal Yes to hearing pregnant women squeal Yes to Rowe v. Wade and its repeal. Yes to crush the union rank and file
 Yes to more invective on the dial
 Yes to those who bash those who dissent Yes to no ‘cause yes was never meant. We have spoken, we’re not joking— Drink to all that we were once— Kneel before the dunce.
 Yes, yes, we say yes. Yes, we’ll give our loyalty to you
 Yes, it doesn’t matter what you do
 Yes, it’s true, we haven’t go a clue
 For red is white while the rest of us are blue. We have spoken, we’re not joking— Drink to all that we were once— Kneel before the dunce.
 Yes, yes, we say yes. Yes, yes, we say yes.
9.
Collateral 05:25
Collateral Welcome to Cuba—Guantanamo We call it Gitmo—you can’t pass Go! Unless you know someone who’s really in the know
 We don’t have to play by the rules. We play good cop—you enemy We play baseball...with your knees Send the picture home to Nanny, she’ll be so pleased
 ‘Cause we don’t have to play by the rules.
 If anybody asks you, we do what we are told to do. I am Rendition, I am so dope
 Ask for conditions, I’ll give you rope
 There’s lots of money to be made by selling hope ‘Cause we don’t have to play by the rules. I am the King, you little girl
 My friend is dead—show you the world
 You cracked my head, so I get to crack your pearl I don’t have to play by the rules.
 If anybody asks you,
I do what I am told to do. Back channels, riding these camels Through a nation in shambles—
 It’s a hollowed out brokered deadline Infidel hokum— it’s better to smoke ‘em, Taxpayer—soak ‘em Grab another jug of oil and moonshine. There was a time when we were men There was a peace that might have been If only we were humble, we could let some virtue in
 But then we’d have to play by the rules. It’s murder from a distance— that’s what it’s all about For you and me and everyone, so we don’t feel left out It’s empire building
while they beg, scream & shout We really have no use for the rules. If anybody asks us, we do just what we want to do. Peace is spoken while treaties are broken, we’re all just token There’s no justice when you’re drowning in sin.
 Torture commerce—I hope they don’t bomb us.
 Is it butter or promise? Can we kill ‘em all and call it a win? It’s business here as usual as the bodies get stacked And if you raise your voice
they will shoot you in the back They are the very terror, they are the very fear There’s nothing they won’t do
for an oath that they won’t swear For power seeks power at the end of every rope Is the man who screams for mercy as the woman prays for hope But prayer now is meaningless, faith has no darker hour When it’s the fate of every orphan to eat dirt instead of flour This dirt is in the hearts of men as they even up the odds You can’t wash away the sin when you act as if you’re God. God...God...God...God! Woe as me, Oh Abraham! Can I go with Lot? For every Abel there’s a Cain— That I’ve not forgot
 Preachers come and preachers go While teachers are ignored Never thought I’d see the day When the pen fell to the sword.
10.
This Yellow Ribbon Is Mine Oh, the ribbon has worn
 Can't read the slogan
 It's tattered and torn
 Can you tell me what was it for? What happens when a decal just fades? Do you replace it
 Or tear off what remains
 And wait for the latest upgrade? Conflicted I am
 Don't know what to do
 To do what is right
 Is the least I can do
 How long will it take?
 I don’t have a clue
 In a way we're all soldiers in time And this yellow ribbon is mine. If you're with me, please honk your horn A nation of ribbons is where we belong Please wake me up in the morn’. We can go shopping
 Let's roll the dice
 We'll put up with traffic That's our sacrifice
 When corn turns to oil We'll pay the price Salvation will come in time This Yellow Ribbon Is Mine
11.
To America 05:02
To America It was yesterday when my father, “Son,” he told me, “You could grow up To be the president if you worked hard, If you stayed true, if you believed.” It was yesterday when my mother,
 “Son,” she told me, “You could become Anything you want to be if you stood straight If you stayed proud, if you believed.” Well I’m on my way to America,
 I’m looking for hope, I want to go home To plant these dreams, reap what I sow, Yet it’s hard to know—
 Where did my country go? It was yesterday, the blood of our fathers Washed away sin, anointed our souls
 This children’s sacrifice that all mothers grieve, Can faith be deceived by what we believe? Give us your tired, give us your poor,
 Give us the wretched that teem at the shore We’ll take them in, our justice is blind
 In time they’ll find something to believe. Well I’m on my way to America,
 I’m looking for hope, I want to go home To plant these dreams, reap what I sow, Yet it’s hard to know—
 Where did my country go? I’m not a rich man, I’m not a poor man
 I’m not a hero, I’m not a fool
 Something’s been broken here, something’s been lost What does it cost when everything’s sold? Well I’m on my way to America,
 I’m looking for hope, I want to go home To plant these dreams, reap what I sow, Yet it’s hard to know—
 Where did my country go?
12.
Happy New Year As the year begins to fade
 All the promises we made
 Let’s not keep them waiting.
 As the hours tick-tock away
 There are things that we should say And stop debating. So now it’s time to say that that’s enough, It’s all for love ‘cause war is just too tough. What an occasion to stop the invasion— It’s the New Year, Happy New Year. And as time plays out its tune,
 And the sun plays with the moon—
 The tide is waiting.
 As the universe expands,
 I kiss the lines upon your hand—celebrating. So now it’s time for me to settle up
 And pour my heart into your broken cup
 Make your acquaintance with my impatience— It’s the New Year, Happy New Year. Balloons may drop and songs begin anew;
 This time I’ll stop because I’m here with you. Let us assemble, and though we may tremble— It’s the New Year,
Happy New Year,
Happy New Year.
13.
My Heart Waits for a Cure My heart waits for a cure My heart waits for a cure Seed this kiss, roll the dice Feed my lungs with fire and ice. My heart waits for a cure My heart waits for a cure Take my hand, this fingered wing Shake this sorrow, numb its sting. My heart waits for a cure My heart waits for a cure Fold me in your blazing skin Find me out and let me in. My heart waits for a cure My heart waits for a cure Cage me in your cave so dark Breathe me in and leave your mark.

about

Note: There are a few songs on "Trepanning" CD that were re-mixed and are available the "Jacquerie" CD:

Radio Shills
Tiddlywinks
Well, I Don't Know
Selection
When the Birds Stopped Singing
Back Whee the Soldier Fell


Trepanning...
trepan: (v) to bore a whole, to pierce; (n) a heavy tool used in mineshafts; (archaic): (n) trickster, a deceptive device; (v) to ensnare, entrap, lure;

trephination: (n) an act of perforating the skull with a surgical instrument;

trepanning: (v) tricking, ensnaring, luring, entrapping, boring a hole in the skull

Folksonomy...
Folksonomy: collaborative tagging, social classification, social indexing, social tagging; the practice and method of collaboratively creating and managing tags to annotate and categorize content.


I wish I could remember when I first came across the word trepanning, but I can’t. It doesn’t have any clear origin, and as you can see in the above definitions, it has all kinds of uses, which is a handy thing when you’re trying to raise words into meaning. For me, the ideas of trepanning as ‘tricking’ or ‘ensnaring or ‘entrapping’ are all appropriate ways to describe the awful effect the Bush years have had on America. We should have known better to be fooled so completely by this frat boy trickster.

This spoiled, slick type—prone to cruel fraternity pranks and hanging unflattering nicknames on those who had to suffer his company—he is the worst kind of man we want to manage even the most meager of our affairs. A failure at every turn of his aimless swagger into adulthood, his privileged, unearned wealth only confused him and crossed anybody who had to do business with him. Used by his father’s friends as a way to ingratiate themselves into prominent positions of power, they gambled that his mediocrity would find company with those Americans who shared the same political disinterest, uncritical mind, and general lack of curiosity. Unread, untested, and macho phony, Bush was the perfect candidate for a society unable to think below the surface of the spectacular distractions of American commercial enterprise, media distortion, and religious delusion.

Pre-9/11 America was on somewhat sound economic footing, however soiled by a president who could not preside over his own libido. Therefore, America, holding desperately on to its mythical Puritan misgivings, had to cleanse itself and sought rebirth. Who better than a well-advertised, oil-primed, born again Christian to steer America towards the longed-for plastic sanctity of the revisionist Reagan years? Praying and having a beer with Bush meant that we could all get back to being regular and not having to fuss with Al Gore’s nuanced and informed strange brew of science and pragmatism. We should have known better.

Just another junior robber baron, Bush and his daddy’s friends gave it all away, kept much for themselves and their ruling party, and put into motion a substantial portion of Emmanuel Goldstein’s Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism—George Orwell’s chilling, outlawed ‘non-fictional’ fictional text in 1984. It is in this forbidden text, planted by the Thought Police to ultimately ensnare Winston Smith in Thoughtcrime, where Smith learns that perpetual war, an economy permanently on the brink of collapse, and corporate- state-party sponsored hysteria and hate stoke the fear of the masses—most of whom live in ever-lasting poverty and prurient distraction—are the true intentions of those entrenched in power. Bush and his minions have replicated Orwell’s frightening text on many levels, while making the distillations of democracy palatable through Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World filters of amusement and public indifference. No matter how you cook these ingredients, it still smells like fascism. But don’t say this too loud because people will dismiss you as a crank, or, at best, they’ll just nod, close their eyes and dream that it can’t happen here...like they did in all the countries where fascism, or some form of it, eventually took root.

I stand by my fears and pray that I’m wrong. In the meantime, Trepanning is my attempt to reveal the trickery, to spring loose the unsure foot from the trap, to untangle the wild resolve of dissent from those who would strangle it.

credits

released January 1, 2008

Produced by E. Morneau
Engineered & Mastered by Bill Mason
At Second Story Music, Boston, MA
Graphic Design by Steve Mammone
All Songs Written & © 2008 by Edward Morneau
“Good Night, Then” – by Winston Churchill
“There Was a Time” based on William Shakespeare’s
‘To Be or Not to Be’ Soliloquy from “Hamlet”

Folksonomy is...

Bass Guitar: Paul Lawrence
Drums & Percussion: Eric Meyer
Keyboards: Ruby Bird
Sound Collages: David Morneau
Viola: Lilian Belknap
Cello: Jesse Lewis
Saxophone: Joe Brogan
Electric Guitar in “Radio Shills”: Billy Carl Mancini
Vocals & Guitars: E. Morneau

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Edward Morneau Salem, Massachusetts

Edward Morneau has been a musician and songwriter most of his life. His focus on multiple genres and interest on sound collage experimentation makes his music hard to classify. His muses range from Beatles, Brian Wilson, Randy Newman, XTC, Kinks, Iris DeMent to Mahler, Shostakovich, Penderecki & Zappa. His background as an English & Film teacher gives humor and striking imagery to his songs. ... more

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