I In Genus

“Astronomer by Candlelight” by Gerrit Dou

I In Genus

by Me


Who put the I in Genus?

Would it be best not to admit?

Living within the lines

Of Samuel Langhorne’s wit

“Thousands of geniuses live and die

Completely undiscovered

Either by themselves

Or the company of others”


Counterfeit’s a worry

And people can be cruel

Yet ingenious enjoy the act of creation

Alone in one’s room


What I can admit

Faintly whispered if I try

When I have made like the maker

I know, because I cry

Photo: “Astronomer by Candlelight” by Gerrit Dou 1613-1679

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

SOCIAL MEDIA

UPCOMING TOUR DATES

If A Picture

If A Picture

by Me

good job iPhone Ansel Adams

you just screwed up his motif

all that you had to use was black and white

but no, you thought color was more unique

so you put upon a cumulus toque

goad the sun towards a wane

seek to whip an egg’s runny slip

across sapphire

orange sherbet and meringue

I had a thousand words here somewhere

(pat pat pat)

perhaps I left them in my Winter coat

better yet, I must have said them

in some colorful five by four connote

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

SOCIAL MEDIA

UPCOMING TOUR DATES

A Chair—and a Tour

“If a chair were a pedometer, it might be lousy at its job—or maybe it wouldn’t have one—and if it were just a chair, it can be fun to sit in.”

I’m working on my aspirational quotes. I was figuring the internet needs more of those.

The internet also needs to know me touring using bad grammar, with pictures courtesy of the sorceress supreme Mushka @lightstonpix

June 5 - Songwriters at Play at Humdinger Brewing - San Luis Obispo, CA

June 8 - Santa Cruz House Concert w/ Echoes and Artifacts - Santa Cruz, CA

June 9th - Secret Song Club - Sebastopol, CA

June 12 - La Baguette Music Cafe - Ashland, OR

June 14 - Levy & Stone House Concert - Portland, OR

June 15 - Backyard at the Barage - Vancouver, WA

June 16 - Spinellas Off the Wall - Gresham, OR

June 18 - Artichoke Music - Portland, OR

June 21 -  Quarterdeck at the De Moines Marina - Des Moines, WA

June 29th - Teton’s Shadow and Sound - Victor, ID

June 30th - Fresh Folk Festival at Clydesdale Outpost


I’m under the influence of my ventriloquist’s wishes.

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, singer, songwriter, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

SOCIAL MEDIA

UPCOMING TOUR DATES

The Fall 2023 Tour Continues in Greensboro, North Carolina

Awendaw Green in Awendaw, South Carolina

The past several weeks have felt like a tornado of long drives and visiting with family (in the best way possible). However, I am in Charleston, South Carolina at the moment, wishing everyone warm regards, bearing tidings of either magpies, or news. Still on tour. Tour, tour, tour. Played Awendaw Green last night (fun times). Leaving for North Carolina, shortly. Perhaps you might want to see me while I’m in town? I’m not gonna lie: I’d like that. Allow me the opportunity to provide the bat time, bat place, and bat channel for such an endeavor (Adam West would approve).

Awendaw Green in Awendaw, South Carolina

Thanks to my friend Jasmine Commerce for being a mensch and providing a warm bed to rest my bones here in Charleston. In fact, thanks to Sarah, and Mia, and Chris, and Bob, and Phil, and Brenda, and Darice and all my friends and family for opening your homes and your heart to me. I am poor as can be, yet the richest man alive. How does that work? It’s measured in my soul, by the nearest approximation: whatever the currency, I feel it in my heart. Thank you. Deeply and truly:

Oct 21 - State Street Wine Co. | Greensboro, NC @ 6pm

Oct 24 - Swan House Concert Series | New Bern, NC @ 7pm

Oct 26 - Dee’s Country Cocktail Lounge | Madison, TN @ 6pm

Oct 27 - Rootstock | Woodstock, GA @ 7:30pm

Oct 28th - 101 Steak | Atlanta, GA @ 7pm

Oct 29th - HiFi Clyde’s | Chattanooga, TN @ 11am

Nov 3rd - Cocoa Beach Show | Cocoa Beach, FL

Nov 4th - Pompano Beach House Concert | Pompano Beach, FL @ 6pm

Nov 8th - Wet Dogs Brewing | Lake Placid, FL @ 6pm

Nov 9th - New World Biergarten @ New World Music Hall | Tampa, FL @ 6:30pm

Nov 10th - Music by the Bay House Concert | Madeira Beach, FL @ 7pm

Nov 11th - Wolf Howl House Concert Series | St. Petersburg, FL @ 7pm

Nov 26th - Vine | Long Beach, CA @ 4pm

SOCIAL MEDIA

UPCOMING SHOWS

"Friend of the Devil", The Grateful Dead, and GIVING SONGS

When I was a young man—I figure I was probably around 15 years old, I had these two friends: Josh and Jeff. This was in Visalia, CA, where I grew up. I was learning how to play guitar at the time—and I liked singing a lot too. I was very much interested in a lot of the music that was permeating the airwaves in the 1960’s, as well as, music that was part of the counter-culture in that era. This came fast on the heals of a lot of the grunge music that was big at the time of my teenage years, for my generation. It’s been humorous watching all the teenagers around now, 2023, wearing the clothing of “grunge” era musicians—much as we did at their age, wearing the tie die clothing, bell bottoms, and making the same aesthetic choices as those of our parents when they were are age. It’s a 30 year cycle of sorts that perpetually rears its head once more, as a way of making us laugh thirty years later, and perhaps to remember where we came from.

The Grateful Dead seemed to me to be the pinnacle of that counter culture. At the moment, at the age of 15, I had never listened to their music aside from an MTV music video for a song of theirs called “Touch of Grey.” Yet, I constantly saw Josh and Jeff wearing these beautiful tie-die t-shirt designs that screamed for a person’s attention: namely mine. So, eventually I asked: “Who are The Grateful Dead?” We were swimming in a pool at Jeff’s house at the time of my query.

He was happy hop out of the pool, and to show me their music, and I was so surprised by what it sounded like. It was country and rock and bluegrass and jam… all mixed into a lovely little package of beautiful.

The lyric writing on many of these songs were sublime. They told stories.

I’m 44 years old now. I love the Grateful Dead. I remember when Jerry Garcia passed away and how many people felt his loss. I remember attending a tribute show to Jerry in the Angeles National Forest with my brother Clark.

I remember a lot of things. Music often is the border collie that herds our memories out of the darker pastures of our subconscious, bringing memories and experiences, once again to the forefront.

At any rate: I was in Michigan on tour again this Summer, and every time I come to Michigan, I perform a cover song for a charity called GIVING SONGS.

You can learn more about what they do HERE, however, in short, the music they release every month helps fundraise and provide wheelchair accessible vehicle grants for families in need.

This year, I decided to get stoned and perform “Friend of the Devil” with another local talent from Michigan named Rob Nelson, who sang background vocals and also played lead guitar on this track, while I played rhythm and sang. Rob sounds sublime and inspired.

Written by Jerry Garcia, John Dawson, and Robert Hunter, FRIEND OF THE DEVIL was released by the Grateful Dead in 1970 on an album called AMERICAN BEAUTY. To this day, it make me smile playing it. It was one of the first songs I ever learned to play. It has been covered by countless others—and I hope that we did a great job in its rendition.

You can download a free copy of the song here, or you can make donation to GIVING SONGS while also downloading the song. It can be as big or as little of a contribution as you would like.

https://payhip.com/b/E7HAs

If you are interested in giving it a listen first, you can do so here:

However, all proceeds from your donation will go directly to GIVING SONGS.

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, singer, songwriter, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

SOCIAL MEDIA

UPCOMING SHOWS



Grand Island, NE House Concert Review

The Spencer Family were my Hosts in Grand Island, NE

Steven Spencer and the family were so kind as to host me in Grand Island, Nebraska for this tour I just arrived home from a few days ago.

Steven wrote me an email with a review of the show. I was so stoked to finally have the opportunity to read it today.

While I may not make this painfully honest: my world and my dreams of playing music and telling my stories definitely hinges on the kindness of those who are willing to listen to them. My hope is that those who do listen, find humanity in my stories. The humanity is the story. It is the story of all of us.

I have no doubt where my place is in the world. It is doing what I am currently doing. Thank you Steven, for painting my endeavors in such a colorful and favorable light, as you have done here. I am immensely grateful to you and your family.

Here is Steven’s review of the concert:

I maintain that I am a somebody, who is a nobody, trying to be a somebody. I am immensely grateful for all the folks I meet along the way and who show me love and kindness and what it is to be a good person. I learn more on that with each of you that I meet. I hope to follow your course myself, in that trajectory, towards the heavens of good grace.

SOCIAL MEDIA

UPCOMING SHOWS

Mark Twain | A New Single August 18th 2023

Samuel Langhorne Clemens

My next single is being released on August 18th on this year of our Lord, 2023. It is probably the most convoluted story I have ever told—perhaps beside The Incredible Shrinking Brain—but we will save the later for a different day.

Mark Twain. It’s a brilliant pen name for Samuel Langhorne Clemens. It’s riverboat slang. It was also the pen name of another riverboat pilot who wrote for a Riverboat Almanac. Samuel Clemens stole the idea from him. He admits to this notion in his book entitled “Life on the Mississippi.”

Regardless, it is a brilliant pen name if you examine it for what it is and what it represents. Mark Twain is a measurement of depth. Sounding boats and sounding poles were used by those navigating the murky waters of a muddy river that we are all familiar with as American Citizens: the Mississippi River. It has no rocky foundation to its deepest depths. It is a muddy river. It constantly changes in depths and sizes naturally due to this proclivity endowed to rivers of such quality. However, because of this—it is dangerous. A riverboat can easily run ashore, or find the unwelcome sand of a shoal, if not constantly checking the depth of the river using sounding boats and sounding poles. This is where the notion of marks and numbers come from. These depths would be shouted by those using the sounding poles, to measure depth, to those listening for their instruction as they piloted the vessel.

The Mississippi River in Hannibal, Missouri

Mark Twain means two fathoms deep. It is the cut-off between dangerous and safe passage. Mark Twain is the shallowest depth in which a riverboat may pass without peril or hazard. Mark Twain is the convergence of safe and dangerous; it is the point in which these two opposing outcomes meet.

Moving forward with this as a title—I found a curious story regarding Samuel Langhorne Clemens and Halley’s Comet:

Halley's Comet appeared in the sky when Mark Twain was born in 1835. The comet moves in a seventy-five or seventy-six-year orbit, and, as it neared Earth once again in the year 1909, Twain said,

I came in with Halley's Comet... It is coming again ... and I expect to go out with it... The Almighty has said, no doubt: 'Now here are these two unaccountable freaks; they came in together, they must go out together.'

Hannibal, Missouri. Samuel Langhorne Clemen’s Childhood Home

Sure enough, he died on April 21, 1910, just as the comet made its next pass within sight of Earth.

I was born on April 21st 1979. That has no relevance to this story, and I’m sure it is quite coincidental.

This song, that I am releasing August 18th, tells the story of Halley’s Comet and our Sun. It also, can stand for something completely different. It can be representative. Metaphor. Hyperbolic. Whatever the case may be: I am proud of its words and music and to be releasing it as I hear it in my head. It is a tip of my hat to someone I admire and a love letter of sorts to a romantic idea. I can’t help but be carried away by the trade winds of whimsy. I prefer it, as I can’t imagine life without my creativity to put wind in my sails in the first place.

For you.

May we all be friends and find the beauty in one another, no matter how difficult or easy that proves to be, ultimately. Perhaps—perhaps there are intrinsic links that bind us all to one another, if not just within the matter which makes everything, the gravitational forces caused by mass and its manipulation of spacetime, and the loosely understood physics of such.

You can pre-save the song at this link:

PRE-SAVE LINK

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS

UPCOMING TOUR DATES

Who Is Mike Vitale?

Mike Vitale (Photo Courtesy of Monika Lightstone Photography)

I spent hours yesterday updating this website. Good golly, there is so much that needs to be updated. Who would have thoughts its such a busy job updating when you are busy updating simply creating and living life without talking about the fact that one is creating or living life? Here is my latest bio update. One more serious, and a second—less serious:

Mike Vitale is a singer-songwriter based out of Los Angeles, CA. He is currently out touring the United States in support of a full length album called φ: 12 new songs written by Vitale over the course of the past several years, as well as 11 new singles he is releasing over the course of 2023, that will eventually lead to a complete 12 song album called DESERT DOGS.

The third single from DESERT DOGS was released on May 27th 2023 and is entitled "Coyote." It's a tip of the hat to the great cowboy country writers of the 1940's and 1950’s, to Mark Twain (quite possibly one of the funniest people I have ever read), and to the end of a long pandemic—finally being able to appreciate the fact that I can tour again, and to count the many blessings of good health and the freedom to roam that which has never been explored by me. I am so very lucky. We are all so very lucky to live in such a beautiful country full of natural splendor.

The fourth single from this record is being released Friday July 7th. Capturing the feeling of deep attraction when seeing a beauty across the bar from the narrator, "Drunk on Your Mystique" is a summer vibe, frothing with the energy and excitement behind a crush on a total stranger. It's music and lyrics convey the Caribbean local and estuary of a port city where people are free to indulge in the fantasy and reverie of romantic whimsy. I plan to play this song all over the U.S. on my tour that starts this week and to promote on socials and playlists.

DESERT DOGS is immediately available as a BANDCAMP download to anyone who would like to contribute to Mike’s 2023 tours through his GoFundMe page: https://gofund.me/e6dcc0b9

LESS SERIOUS?

Mike Vitale is a Singer-Songwriter/producer/forward-slash enthusiast, based out of Los Angeles, CA. Eagle Rock to be precise (come by for a cup of coffee with him). When not preoccupied with speaking in third-person about music related stuff, he enjoys short walks on long beaches with his two border collies, Border and Collie. He is certain that this sentence is useless, but also doesn’t believe in absolutes. The dogs may or may not be fictional. All the other stuff is probably true, especially if it involves putting one word in front of another while simultaneously singing those words over-predetermined blocks of music. Totally his idea (don’t steal it).

TOUR DATES

New Orleans and the South as Filtered by Numpty Abroad

I am not accustomed to the foreign affairs of the common folk walking the French Quarter adornments of Bourbon Street with open containers, nor am I in equal measure accustomed to the cobblestone stumbling of the before mentioned, namely myself enjoying alcohol laden libations as I meander down River Street in Savannah, Georgia in search of secret treasures for the senses, whether they take the form of old buildings, old stories, proposition in prostitution, voodoo and hoodoo gift shops, tales of ghosts, passing relic steamboats and modern freighters alike, live music, and Catfish—the later breaded to perfection, a fluffy, light, and delicious surprise with every bite. Both places have become tourist powerhouses akin to an ancient dinosaur innocently walking into a tar pit. However, I can’t help myself for being both predator and prey to a location that allows me to do nearly all of my favorite things, simultaneously, or at the very least, in rapid succession of one another.

There is a magic to seeing places I have only read about since I was a child. I absolutely have had the assisted lens of television and the silver screen to paint pictures of false pretense in two dimensional simulacrum, but the real treasure is to walk amongst the bonanza yourself. “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil” is largely responsible for the second gold rush of tourism afforded to Savannah, Georgia—while New Orleans has obtained the golden age of post-Lent celebration, Mardi Gras, from its predecessor Mobile, Alabama, which celebrated this holiday long before it became the staple character of New Orleans demographic. My second cousins who all live in Mobile, Alabama shared this interesting fact with me while I had the privilege of their company for a few days, playing a house show at my cousin’s place. What a privilege this has all been. To see the Redneck Riviera, as my cousin Bill put it, was a treasure: Bayou La Batre. He punctuated my visit with jokes such as this: 

“What do you call a beautiful woman in Bayou La Batre?”, he asked me with a small grin.

I said, “I don’t know, Bill.”

“A visitor.”

… and speaking of beautiful women.

I was briefly the prey of a lady of the night while in New Orleans, operating with a charisma that was quite intoxicating, far beyond what I had been pouring into my person throughout the evening. She was dark and fit and lovely as a mistress as she passed by me with compliments accentuating my masculinity, and initiated the conversation with an assurance that there was nothing in the direction that I was walking in—I asked her how she knew that. She assured me, “because I just came from there.” I playfully mirrored her approximations by assuring her that there was nothing in the direction she was heading. She asked me why I thought such? I assured her, because, “I just came from there.” And while she did shower me with peppered compliments of “gorgeous” and the like—I could not help but feel the salt seasoning being poured in unscrupulous quantity and appetite on my wounded wallet for her consumption. I will however, kindly accept her bouquet of accolades and admire their freshness of uncut potential. It would be a small feather in a hat that I wasn’t necessarily wearing anywhere else, aside from my own imagination.

I became the second-hand tourist on a musician’s budget, listening to ghost stories told on old and ancient streets described by Anne Rice, yet narrated by a young lady, her congregation of paid acolytes, following her every word and movement down a dimly-lit thoroughfare. My ease-dropping was brief, for I never wish to overstay my welcome, especially when it involves the livelihood of another, so it was to be only brief punctuations of dread and fright for me on that evening—both in the realm of storytelling, and gambling for that matter. You can do that in New Orleans as well—and I pursued this vice, if only momentarily in the one casino afforded to the city by ordinance. However, with a $25 dollar minimum buy-in on a hand of Blackjack, my appetite went un-satiated, aside from being given a brief form of entertainment watching many a gambler bet away or receive their fortune for an evening. However, when my interest ran its course, I was back out into the evening to sponge up more of what was to be had in the French Quarter. 

Frenchmen Street gave me a bit of what makes my heart sing: jazz and groove music being played by the best musicians that the United States has to offer. I drank my wine and listened to the language of their improvisation with an eager ear and appetite for cold drink and warm jams on a breezy night. Jazz Fest had been cancelled this year, and I tried in vain to use this as returned selling point for booking a few house concerts in the area for myself—I was initially turned away by house concert hosts because of Jazz Fest’s occurrence during my planned occupation. Despite the demise of the festival this year, I had a small taste of what it would have had to offer: a large assortment of college-age students playing inspired renditions of the theme song from the movie “Halloween”, as a groove tune, leaving no stone unturned with tension and release and old scales rarely heard in the realm of pop music. Heaven can be found in the mustached-villain twist of a half-whole scale, modal variations, diminished and augmented approaches over altered dominants, and any number of other fanciful music being spoken, with the effortless of conversation, that are common place when listening to an art form, under appreciated in its difficulty and mastery by the performer, to the common listener.

However, despite all of this goodness, and badness: my first order of business when arriving in New Orleans, was to find The Natchez. I speak eagerly of this vessel. It is like an old friend. It’s a steamboat on the Mississippi River, named after a city. It is still functioning, and still doing its good work for fine folk wishing to see the splendor of the great Mississippi River. I had no greater wish in my heart that to see it with my own eyes, after reading of its exploits in the words of Samuel Langhorne Clemens. Alas, my efforts were to no good effect, satiated. There was an empty dock. My inquiries (only after further strolling down the river, mistaking another smaller boat for The Natchez) proved to be found with the sad news of its repair for several weeks in maintenance, perhaps from the recent hurricane.

There was evidence of this everywhere, in the neighborhood in which I stayed, which was just outside of the French Quarters: large piles of tree trunks and branches piled to the 15 or 20 feet high, occupying precious sidewalk and street space, the later with tremendous water damage. The drive in to New Orleans, was the most revealing evidence of heartbreak, as I witnessed tremendous amounts of homes, left to Lucifer matches, with little evidence that the pile of rubble was ever a living quarter for a loving family. Entire roofs missing. Tremendous holes punched into the sides of both commerce buildings and residence, alike. Given that it has been months since the original occurrence of the event, it can only be said that I feign the sight New Orleans and its residents at the storm’s recent precipice.

I have, dear reader, been a sponge. A murky little sponge that perhaps belongs on the bottom of the ocean, but has found itself meandering amongst new places in search of joy. It has been my wish to see new things while I play new things for new people. I have done all of these things, and continue to do so today. I am off to go explore Charlotte now. May this find you smiling and well.

ϕ by Mike Vitale | Digital Release of Full Album on September 21st 2021

Hey Friends, I'm proud to announce that my new album will be released to all the digital streaming platforms this summer on Tuesday September 21st 2021. The album is called ϕ (phi).

If you are a Spotify user, here is a pre-save link for the new album. Supposedly, having people pre-save the album and the singles, is very helpful for getting onto Spotify playlists, which would be a boon to its reach to new ears, so to speak—so I would be honored to have you do that, should your kind heart be so inclined:

PHI
https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/mikevitale/phi

Here is the official release schedule for every single as well as the titles being released as singles.

Tuesday August 17th 2021 - TIME MACHINE
https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/mikevitale/time-machine

Tuesday August 24th 2021 - YOUNGER DAYS
https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/mikevitale/younger-days

Tuesday August 31st 2021 - EMPTY CIRCLE
https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/mikevitale/empty-circle

Tuesday September 7th 2021 - HOME
https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/mikevitale/home

Tuesday September 14th 2021 - GONE
https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/mikevitale/gone

Tuesday September 21st 2021 - ϕ (phi - FULL ALBUM)
https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/mikevitale/phi

SUNDAY September 26th 2021 - FULL BAND ALBUM RELEASE SHOW at Alex's Bar in Long Beach, CA at 8pm (more details coming soon—this is bonus info for the folks kind enough to read this far into my post; thank you for caring and for loving and supporting me).

My First Music Placement and Homelessness

Mike Vitale.jpg

Hopefully, this is something that I won’t forget. It took me 39 years, but I finally had a piece of music picked for use in either a tv show, or a movie (forgive me for not knowing which it is). It’s an independent production called “House Broken.”

From what I am told, they are in the post production side of things, but I have been paid a synchronization fee for the song, so, it’s a done deal in terms of their interest in using the tune. They are pitching it to festivals and networks as soon as they complete the project.

Naturally, my hope is that anyone who works hard on their creative project, finds success with it.

It’s a project that deals with the subject of homelessness. The main character is based off of a real life person by the name of Fred Smoot. Fred was a stand up comedian in the 70’s who found success in his career and made several appearances on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. This was a big deal for standup comedians in the 70’s.

Later in life, Fred developed dementia and eventually became homeless, living out of his car with his dog. He became a man of few possessions. Literally, he had a trophy, his car, and his puppy.

Fred’s circumstances are far from unusual. A friend of mine and I were watching a documentary called “Lost Angels: Skid Row is My Home” that came out in 2010, regarding Skid Row and it’s homeless population. Many of the people that call downtown LA their home, have preexisting mental conditions—Manic Depression, Schizophrenia, and dementia being several of many.

“House Broken” will be a project that addresses the homeless crisis we see here in Southern California. I see it in my own neighborhood of Eagle Rock. If you are a Los Angeles or Orange County resident, I am sure you do as well.

The song that is being used is my most recent. It’s called “The Incredible Shrinking Brain.”

Here is a private link to check it out if you feel so inclined:

The Incredible Shrinking Brain

words and music by Mike Vitale

I feel like a mime with a painted on sad face touching an invisible wall

And it’s a crime I can’t see this behind my shit talk fueled by jealousy and alcohol

Sure, I’m overly critical, but by now I should know better

Maybe I’m just too hard on myself and it doesn’t really matter

The longer I live the less I know for sure

When I was a younger man my certainty was premature

There’s all these abstract explanations I could conjure up in vain

But I’m the man with the incredible shrinking brain

Do you feel like an actor dressed up in black face

We’re really just canaries in a coal mine

Carried out the shaft like a suitcase, soot trace, smeared across our face and brow

The war on race, preference, sex, and creed are indelible

and noxious as the fumes

And right before we lose our consciousness collective conscience looms

The longer we live the less we know for sure

When we were a younger brood our certainty was premature

There’s all these explanations we could conjure up in vain

But we’re people with incredible shrinking brains

Our incredible shrinking brains

Create the fertile furrows from a farmer’s plough

“Two fathoms deep” shouted across the bow

“Anger and hatred are caustic to the vessel in which it’s stored

Far more than to anything on which its poured”

The longer we live the less we know for sure

When we were a younger brood our certainty was premature

There’s all these abstract explanations we could conjure up in vain

But we’re people with incredible shrinking brain

We’re people with incredible shrinking brains