Here are the lyrics for all of our original songs, as well as the back-stories and inspiration. Think of it as kind of a "Cindy Loo Whos: Behind the Music." Note: All songs and lyrics are property of The Cindy Loo Whos ™ 2003. Anyone caught stealing will be forced to watch "Barney" reruns while eating tofu for ten straight years. So respect our work and leave it here where it belongs!
Title: Customer Service
Story:
This was our very first song. Is was written one boring spring afternoon while we were practicing at the twins' house. We'd been trying to do something with a kickass bass line Julia wrote, and the twins' mom was waiting for a refrigerator delivery that just wouldn't come. And the rest... is history. So we dedicate this with love and disappointment to the Maytag man.
VERSE 1 CHORUS BRIDGE VERSE 2 CHORUS BRIDGE 2 VERSE 3 CHORUS
Title: Get Away VERSE 1 CHORUS VERSE 2 CHORUS CHORUS BRIDGE
Title: Here In Hollis/Brookline (The Hollis/Brookline Ho-Down) INTRO VERSE 1 CHORUS VERSE 2 CHORUS VERSE 3 BRIDGE CHORUS CHORUS OUTRO
Title: It's Bitchin' VERSE 1 CHORUS VERSE 2 CHORUS VERSE 3 CHORUS BRIDGE CHORUS CHORUS
Title: Tattoo VERSE 1 CHORUS VERSE 2 CHORUS BRIDGE VERSE 3 Title: Only CHORUS VERSE 1 CHORUS VERSE 2 CHORUS BRIDGE CHORUS
Title: Who Says? VERSE 1 CHORUS VERSE 2 CHORUS VERSE 3 CHORUS BRIDGE
Title: Savvy INTRO VERSE 1 CHORUS VERSE 2 CHORUS BRIDGE CHORUS OUTRO
Title: Pigs In Space VERSE 1 CHORUS VERSE 2 CHORUS BRIDGE OUTRO
The number you have dialed
is currently unavailable.
Please hang up and try again.
(repeat and skat)
Customer service,
don't put me on hold.
Customer service,
don't leave me alone.
Customer serive,
don't disconnect me.
Customer service,
don't leave me hanging.
(skat)
Ok, let's go!
The Maytag man likes to ignore me.
The cable man tends to bore me.
Refrigerator isn't working,
television set is broken,
telephone, toaster oven, washing machine,
radio, dish washer, radiator.
Lack of service,
there's a lack of service.
Lack of service,
there's a lack of service.
(appliance skat)
Story:
Sarah originally wrote the basis for this song for voice and acoustic guitar. She showed it to the rest of us, and we just built on it. It's one of our more serious songs, but who cares? We make up for it with stuff like "The Hollis/Brookline Ho-Down."
Stop thinking that it's alright.
I know you don't anyway.
Just heard you ruining yourself
once more the other day.
Yeah, well they want your money
and they'll take your life
as long as you can pay.
You think it's great till it all fades black.
It's time you listen to what I say.
I don't care what you say anymore.
I don't care, I don't care.
But you don't care what I tell you anymore.
You don't care, you don't care.
Your mind is fogged and your dreams are gone.
Your eyes are wild but asleep.
You might as well be dead with a bottle to your head,
but your thoughts they still run deep.
The poison you feed yourself constantly,
it hates you anyway.
Why do you kill yourself gradually?
Can't you listen to what I say?
Your tears are intoxicated.
Your ears hear what I hated.
Your eyes they see the damage.
Your hand puts on the bandage.
Your mind can't put it all away.
Your voice tells me it'll be ok.
Story:
And this one's about our home town and high school. Yes, it's true. We live in a place full of country hicks and we don't even have a football team. The first verse comes from a song called "Okie From Muskogee", a tune from the 60's. There's an optional harmonica solo, as befits us townies. We felt that our own boring yet unique place in the world needed a theme song. So this one goes out to all the poor kids stuck here in Hollis/Brookline.
"I'm just an Okie from Muskogee.
Just an Okie from Muskogee.
We don't smoke marijuana in Muskogee.
We don't take our trips on LSD.
We like living right and being free."
Here in Hollis/Brookline
we got holes in all our jeans.
The neighbors stand on the porch
shotgun threatening.
Here in Hollis/Brookline
everyone answers to the name Bubbuh.
We got cows in all our fields
and the trucks go chugga chugga.
Here in Hollis/Brookline,
population 12.79!
Here in Hollis/Brookline,
We got way too much time.
Sha la la la!
Here in Hollis/Brookline
everyone knows you and you know everyone.
Corn mazes are a sport
and school nights are wicked fun.
Here in Hollis/Brookline,
Friday nights at the Premiere 8.
Dining out at Christopher's,
gee that sounds wicked great.
Here in Hollis/Brookline
we don't have a football team.
We've got hicks and rich kids too,
don't try to deny you know it's true.
Here in Hollis/Brookline
everyone is proud of their snowblower.
Bell ringing on the 4th of July,
in the local church tower.
(harmonica or bass solo)
Hollis/Brookline...
We're stuck here in Hollis/Brookline.
We can never ever leave.
We love you, Hollis/Brookline.
Townies we will always be.
We're stuck here in Hollis/Brookline.
We can never ever leave.
(spoken)What's wrong with that?
Story:
For the sensitive audience, the alternate title is "It's Wicked." The music was originally written when the Mouth couldn't make it to practice. It sounded like a great jam on its own, but then Jess showed up to write the lyrics. It's our first great hit... we wish.
It's bitchin'!
Show me what makes you tick,
what makes your engine lock.
Tick tock like a clock,
tick tock like a clock,
tick tock like a clock!
Driving in your fast car,
I'm not afraid to go far.
If I scream into the air,
just tell me you will take me there.
See the speed inside your mind.
Catch me in your spider web.
Cut the moon to make it red,
cut the moon to make it red,
cut the moon to make it red!
You'll never want to slow down.
You don't want to turn around.
You thought you were lost but now you're found.
You were lost and now you're found,
you were lost and now you're found!
Throw yourself into the winds.
Try to stop while it begins.
Don't try to stop, don't try to stop.
Story:
The original lyrics for "Tattoo" were written by Farah. It took us awhile, but we made it into some good music, Jess tweaked the lyrics, and now... from the Cindy Loo Whos straight to you're living room... it's TATTOO!
Hello Tattoo.
Well have they got a name for you?
Your eyes hold an ocean that was never blue
and your mouth says things that were never true.
Hey there Tattoo.
When will you move out of the zoo?
Maybe this place was never meant for you,
because none of these people seem
to see right through.
Good day Tattoo.
Or is this a good day to you?
Your skeleton shakes like one of the used,
but in your place what is one to do?
You're just like safety though you're insecure.
Is there anybody like this?
You seem so real but then I'm never sure.
Is there anyone else like this?
Mars is in your sight but you're so far away
and you're a child without a blanket.
Venus has you now but then you'd never stay
and you're a child who's lost his blanket.
Oh Tattoo.
Were the N and the O good enough for you?
Your hand was always courage,
could you keep it new?
Would you rather paint it up without a clue?
Your mind, Tattoo.
Or have you finally lost that too?
You sit in the pretty black of a worn out shoe,
and your finger's always wrapped by something new.
You're like an angel with shredded wings.
You make me want to cry.
Just like a choke that dislodges me.
And you curl up and hug your knees.
And you whisper what you need.
And you whisper what you need, poor thing.
Poor thing, poor thing.
Good bye Tattoo.
Now will they have a name for you?
Because a memory needs a name,
and you know you're due.
And so you shall just be Tattoo.
Tattoo, Tattoo,
Tattoo, Tattoo.
Story:
When Julia needed some extra credit for her biology class, we decided to write a song about cells and other biological stuff. Well, Julia got the extra credit, but we realized that the "Cell Song" sounded pretty good, even if it made us sound like science geeks. So Jess took one of her poems, and voila! New lyrics, cool song. Recently Farah and Jess needed to do a parody of a Christmas carol for Honors Chemistry. So we wrote a lesson on the Periodic Table to the tune of "Carol of the Bells." Though it won't turn out like "Only"/"Cell Song", we might post it here anyway just for shits and giggles.
Only you,
only me,
only love, only love.
Only true tongues are silent.
Only brittle pens can lie.
Only one place is safe
in the dead of night.
If only I could sleep.
If only you could love me like that.
If only my eyes were bluer than the sky.
Only darkness escapes the light.
Only this guitar can gently weep.
I'm falling, only, only.
I'm dying, only, only.
I'm crying, only, only.
I'm trying, only, only.
Only you can save me now.
Story:
This sounds like a break-up song, but it's really aimed at no one in particular. Jess originally wrote it for vocals and acoustic guitar, but the band decided it sounded better with the full instrumentals. This is the only slow CLW song we'll play at gigs, and it's no "Stairway To Heaven."
I wish you well.
And I wish you would refrain from writing me letters
every chance you get.
'Cause I don't even read them anymore.
We stopped recycling our conversations long ago.
Yet still I dread walking out to the mailbox,
reading your name everywhere,
having to put up with you.
Who said it'd be easy?
Who said we'd be fine?
Who said it'd be easy?
Who said you were mine?
This is what it comes down to:
You were never much to talk to.
In fact you bored me half to death
on more than one occasion.
You'll never let me forget what I owe you
from that thing in the place with the people.
And your narrow escape to reality
dragging me along for the ride.
So there it is and there it was.
Things will never ever change.
It's like I'm speaking some other language
from far across the ocean.
Making eye contact was such a pain,
and you're no good on the telephone.
We should just call it a day,
but not before I have the last word.
Who said it'd be easy?
Who said we could make the time?
Who said it'd be easy?
Who said you were mind?
I wish you well.
And I wish you would refrain from writing me letters.
Story:
This is our official tribute to Captain Jack Sparrow and all kick-ass women who play hard to get. Yes, this song is the reason Jess named the new microphone Johnny Depp.
Chicka chickah,
chicka chickah.
(repeat.)
(Skat.)
You didn't deserve that,
what do you deserve?
I refuse to beg for
your permission again.
It takes two to tango
in my little game.
I don't feel like
taping up your heart again.
Savvy?
Now that's interesting.
We are in fact women.
(Skat.)
Behind closed doors
no one knows what you promise.
What I'd give to be
a fly on your wall that day.
I confess I'm quite skilled
in the art of broken hearts.
When I'm around
you're always burning up.
Savvy?
(Skat.)
Savvy?
Story:
This is about the Space Race between the USA and the USSR. Only it's much deeper than that, natch. Sarah wrote the original for her AP US History final, then the band just ran with it. "Pigs In Space" just seemed like an appropriate title.
There's a secret message
with every rocket that goes up.
It says 500 million to keep
the moon from the Reds
and our flag right on the moon.
Flying machines race towards the sky,
race towards the sky.
This is the Space Race you asked for you, got it all.
No minds to bend, just programs to install.
We built this land on science: one nation for all.
Plant the seeds and watch them grow.
Watch them grow so big and tall,
so big and tall...
Sinking without scientific prodigy.
How can we break the paintbrush
and fortify the beaker,
empty out the right and feed the left.
Closing down on the open-mind policy.
The future looks brighter from outer space.
1, 2, 3, 4.
Sputnik's wrath has got a hold on me.
5, 6, 7, 8.
Look at the sky and tell me what you see.
1, 2, 3, 4.
Sputnik's wrath has got a hold on me.
5, 6, 7, 8.
Look at the sky today. What do you see?
So now all you know is all you need to know.
Because Sputnik's wrath has got a hold on you.
Sputnik's wrath has got a hold on you.
I said Sputnik's gonna get you.