From the Ground

by Shook Fool

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05:07

about

Songs by Peter Oundjian
Produced by Peter Oundjian and Jack Mullin
Recorded by Jules Alexander Koslow
Mixed by Jack Mullin
Mastered by Noah Ross
Art by Elijah McCormack

Peter Oundjian: vocals, rhythm guitar, lead guitar
Jack Mullin: auxiliary guitars, lead guitar, slide guitar, bass
Jake Ratkevich: drums

Piano in "Three Leaves" by Danny Pravder

Special thanks to:
Kathy Koslow and Peter Vandell
Peter, Nadine and Lara Oundjian

credits

released April 1, 2016

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Shook Fool Toronto, Ontario

Alternative Grungy Folky Singer-Songwriter from Toronto, ON.

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Track Name: Too Much
Don’t laugh, don’t cry –
You’re right, I can’t
Take what I dish.
Any thought, any sound
Is too much right now.
Track Name: Done
Are you, are you seriously
Telling me what you’re telling me?
That’s not how this works –
No, it’s not how anything works.
Maybe if you’d stop complaining,
You might hear what I’ve been –

Telephone rings all damn day.
I already know what you’re gonna say.
You’ll put on a show,
You’ll tell me I can’t go.
Well get this through your tiny noggin:
You will never see me again,
You will never see me.

And I’m so done blaming myself,
And you are nothing but a cautionary tale.
Track Name: Look
Around, look around.
Around, look around.
Oh, my brain’s in little pieces.
Oh, my mind is all around.

Around, look around.
Around, look around.
Oh, I’m clawing from the inside.
Oh, the inside of my skin.

The lights go out, the lights go out,
another day, another doubt
is swimming through the musty air;
if nothing’s here it must be there,
waiting restless in its womb,
but nowhere this side of the moon.
Institution, institution,
deadliest of all pollution,
poisonous and pessimistic –
are fighters brave or just sadistic?
And all the generals, kings and queens,
they’re waiting just to hear you scream.

Oh, on the mountain.
Oh, turn around and
look up the mountain
from the ground.
Look around
from the ground.
Track Name: Three Leaves
I was already sentimental long before it was even over.
I just wanted to curl up inside each night.
Someday we’ll do grown-up things
And laugh about how young we used to be.

It all feels like such a distant dream –
Like every memory is now a vague feeling.
And I don’t miss it much –
I can hardly write about it.
No, I can’t do it any justice at all –
All my characters are turning into fools.
Track Name: Happy
Things were going pretty fine
And then I started to think about thinking.
I got so far into my head, I could barely hear my screams.
I’ve been stewing quite the stew
And it’s just sitting here stinking.
People say a lot of shit that they don’t even really mean.

And I’m a little ashamed,
But I have to admit that it makes me want to hate them.
But at least they’re happy.

I don’t wanna count the times
I’ve thought I’d rather be dreaming.
I can’t say what about, though I’d hate to be abrupt.
Let’s just say the shows they play
Are the ones I wouldn’t be screening.
Am I turning into a cynic or is this just growing up?

And I’m a little ashamed,
But I have to admit that it makes me want to hate myself.
But at least I’m happy.
Track Name: Maria
Maria,
you never said why you left me,
and that’s why I keep writing every day and I’m crying.

The TV
has been on almost two weeks,
and my arms, they’re just too weak to lift this burden
off my head.

Maria,
if you were real I could call you,
take some time to enthrall you.
Then I could just hold you and
never have to dream again.

If I sleep,
then I am with you and can’t weep,
and I am strong enough to speak and lift this burden
off my head.
Track Name: Lapse
One straight, continuous lapse – no
memory of the exit ramp, no
signs for an interchange.
A hundred maps and
not a single light to
read them by.
I left a bag of days
leaking on the counter.
Inch by inch a teardrop crawls
but never leaves the eye
and never dies.
A tiny, steady
waste of gas.

No one wants it, it’s broken.
The lotion stinks, the dark is blaring,
the fitted sheet prevails again.
There isn’t time to fix much
but it sure does go by slowly.

And the last thing that she said
before falling asleep is
in neat little piles
on the ceiling.
And I left a mosquito
dead on the wall.

Yesterday
swallowed up my head,
ripped my favorite jeans,
and still won’t let me leave the bed.

A shower wouldn’t
clean a thing.