Here's What I Really Think of You

by David Golden

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  • Digital Album

    Immediate download of 7-track album in your choice of high-quality MP3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.

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1.
02:33
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2.
02:58
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3.
03:40
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4.
02:32
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5.
04:18
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6.
03:15
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7.
03:29
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about

Songs written for The Robot Johnson Show, Charlotte's premier sketch comedy troupe, providing good humor by bad people since 2007.

credits

released 17 October 2009
Recorded and mixed by Scott Slagle at Asylum Digital Recording, Charlotte NC

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Track Name: It's a Sign
Black cat crossed my path on my way to work
I think it’s a sign
There’s a rip in my trousers and a stain on my shirt
I think it’s a sign
You always ask me if I think we’re gonna last
If I can see any signal that the romance has passed
Well, I woke up today next to a pain in the ass
I think it’s a sign
The new Tori Amos record is totally lame
I think it’s a sign
My favorite show got pre-empted by a Bobcats game
I think it’s a sign
Well when we first got together you were earthy and free
Spontaneous and funny and you satisfied me
But now your favorite position is “While watching TV”
And I think that’s a sign
Nothing lasts forever, you should know that better than anyone else
And if we stay together, I think I’ll probably kill myself
Do you think that’s a sign?
Your cat coughed up a hairball on my favorite shoes
I think it’s a sign
I came home last night smelling like hookers and booze
I think it’s a sign
And if none of what I’m telling you is getting through
There’s another reason God don’t want me to be with you
Cause when you pee on the stick, and then the stick turns blue…
Yeah, in my book, that’s a sign
Track Name: A Song About Your Girlfriend
I know you’re really hurting right now
I heard she left you and I’m sure that you’re just trying to heal
But man, you know I’m here for you anytime
You need me to talk, or just let out how you feel
And I know you’re feeling helpless, I know you’re feeling hurt
I know that there’s not much I can say
But dude,
I never liked her anyway
She always acted too good for you
Like she was so great, like she could do so much worse
And she dressed you up in pink polo shirts
And made you shop for antiques with her while holding her purse
And she made you go to movies you didn’t want to watch
She made you eat foie gras and pate
And dude,
I never liked her anyway
Remember that time she made you ride in the trunk?
I never liked her anyway
And once at a Christmas party she grabbed my junk
Oh wait, did you not know that?
She treated your family like trash and one time she slashed your tires for coming home late
And last year she showed up to your birthday party and said “Is it all right that I brought a date?”
She sold your mint Carl Yastrzemski Topps rookie card cause she saw some earrings she liked
When you asked why she opposes universal healthcare she said “Because Hillary Clinton’s a dyke”
She drives an SUV and she roots for the Yankees and in winter she wears only fur
And we all remember the time she cut the tip of your pinky finger off to prove you loved only her
Two years ago, when your grandmother died she showed up drunk at the funeral and puked in the grave
She killed your dog and blew your cousin and his boyfriend and she crashed your car on purpose and
She brags her family used to own slaves
Look all I’m trying to say is that you’re better off without her
I mean, maybe she just wasn’t “The One”
So dude,
Is she seeing anyone?
Is she seeing anyone?
Cause you know I’d love to hit that just one time
Track Name: Blindsided by Love
Come take my hand
I’ll walk you through the wilds of a strange fantastic land called love
Let’s begin
To explore the vast unknown between each other’s nose and chin
And it’s a new exciting road we’re on
I’ll try to summarize the way I feel about you in this song
It’s a big strong feeling that I have inside
So sit back, enjoy the ride
I promise not to leave you alone
Well, except when I go out of town
My job requires me to travel
Two-thirds of the year
Also, I can’t tell you what I do
I hope I’m not blindsiding you and
I promise that I’ll be true
Well, as true as I can be
Cause I’ve got problems with fidelity
You knew this going in
Come on, we had this conversation
And it’s not like I’m blindsiding you with this
What’s the big deal?
It was just a passing fling
It’s not like she meant anything to me
Oh, God, stop crying
Or at least do it more quietly
The folks next door’ll think I beat you
Look, do you want to get counseling?
It’ll be a bonding thing for us, like doing something dangerous
And laughing when we survive
Happy just to be alive
I promise I’ll be more honest with you
As long as you don’t ask too many questions
Maybe you should get a hobby
Why don’t you take up macramé?
Yeah, that’d keep you busy
It’d give your life more meaning and
Who knows, maybe you’ll sell some pieces
Start up your own company and
By then you won’t need me anymore
Oh, come on, I know you
You’ll be far too occupied with
Selling macramé online and filling
Orders to address my needs when
I am home at all and
I’ll keep travelling until the kids don’t recognize my face
And that “passing fling” becomes the only one who understands
Just how emasculated I have felt since your
Income surpasses mine and
When she tells me she’s expecting and I have to make a choice between
Leaving you for her and being blackmailed for the child support
I’ll come to you and say I tried as hard and as long as I could
But you knew this going in
Come on, we had this conversation, so it’s not like I’m blindsiding you with this
Track Name: A Prayer for My Daughter
I’ve done a lot of things that I regret
I’m not too proud of a lot of my life
But I feel like I’ve been given another chance
When I look in her blue eyes
And I hope that I teach her well
I hope that she can tell right from wrong
I close my eyes and pray
Lord, let my daughter be a dyke
Let her crave a woman’s touch
Whether femme or raging butch
Just don’t let her date
Anyone like me
Men are only after one thing
We plot and scheme and strategize
After all, why do you think
I hung around with her mom in the first place?
And I hope that she’s well-liked
And I hope she always knows she’ll always be
Daddy’s little girl
But Lord, let my daughter be a dyke
Birkenstocks and flannel shirts
Other girls are worthless flirts
But she’ll never date
Anyone like me
And when boys knock on our door I’ll say
“Sorry, Charlie isn’t in today”
Then I’ll punch them anyway
For sniffing around my little girl
I see you staring, you’re fucking sick
Think with your head and not your dick
Or I’ll remove both
Lord, let my daughter be a dyke
Ovaries filled with useless eggs
She’ll shave her head but not her legs
And she’ll never date
Anyone like me
No she’ll never date anyone
Like ______________ or me
Track Name: Freedom Park
You’ve got to admit that it’s not going to work
We’re drifting apart and our lines of communication are down
I’ve never been so lost, and God, I’ve never felt so alone
I have to admit I don’t know how to stop all the hurt
But popular wisdom says when it comes to burning affairs of the heart
That you’ve got to rekindle the flames of desire
You have to go back to the start
So let’s take a walk down memory lane
Baby, put your hand in mine
Let’s recreate our very first date
Let’s go back in time
Let’s take a trip through time
Let’s drive down to Freedom Park and make out
Let’s fold down the backseat of my mom’s station wagon
And I’ll stick my tongue in your mouth
Let’s clutch at each other just like we did
Before the marriage went south
Let’s go down to Freedom Park and make out
We’re not going to get any younger, you know how it works
Pretty soon my scalp will reflect the sun and your breasts will double for knees
If we get divorced, we’ll die sad and alone in one-bedroom apartments surrounded by cats
So before it’s too late, let’s take that left off of East Boulevard
We’ll park the car and each wait for the other to open their door first
I’ll stare out the window and hand-check my breath
While you rummage through your purse
I’ll lean over and kiss your neck
As I’m taking off my shades
You’ll say, “Baby, wait, let’s listen to this
Mix tape I made.
It’s a Pixies mix tape.”
We’ll sit there in Freedom Park and make out
I’ll fumble clumsily with your bra
And then I’ll try to push your head south
You’ll ask for a rubber and I’ll act as though
I don’t know what you’re talking about
While we sit down in Freedom Park and make out
The flames of our love will burn
Brighter than any star
So bright that the cop who knocks on the window
Will see two youthful lovers locked
In a youthful embrace and not some middle-aged
Couple who’s desperately trying to save their
Marriage in back of a car
We won’t have to drive far
We’ll just drive down to Freedom Park and make out
You’ll lean back your seat and pretend that your sex drive
Isn’t deader than Bozo the Clown
We’ll try to forget that I cry in my sleep
And that you’re slightly more racist as Song of the South
While we sit down in Freedom Park and make out
Track Name: I Love Baseball
Many years ago, on a day like today
My brother and I would go out back to play
I’d be Dale Murphy, he’d be Bob Horner
I’d sock a few dingers, he’d man the hot corner
And we’d come inside sweaty but ready for more
We’d turn on the TV, and Skip would tell us the score
And it really doesn’t matter who you’re rooting for
As long as you love
The crack of the bat
The flight of the ball
The tip of a cap
The umpire’s call
The dog days of summer
The thrill of the fall
Goddamn, I love baseball!
When we got older, Dad would take us to games
You could pick your own seat because nobody came
But that didn’t matter, we were close enough to touch
Which was fine as long as Daddy wasn’t drinking too much
But if the home team was losing, and they usually were
He’d pepper the umps with curse words and racial slurs
Then he’d point out a fat chick and say, “Dave, how about her?”
That’s why I love
A sweet diving catch
A slide in the dirt
My father’s hand
Under a large woman’s skirt
Too drunk to know better
But too married to flirt
Goddamn I love baseball!
Put me in coach I am ready to play, ready to play, ready to
Put me in coach hey now what do you say? What do you say? What do you
Say you had a roster spot reserved for codependent, scoliotic introverts
Whose alcoholic fathers forced them to play
Would you bench me anyway?
I’m an adult now and my son’s at the age
Where he can take in nine innings on the world’s greatest stage
I’ll buy him a hot dog, and I’ll buy me a beer
I’ll kick up my feet and call Lo Duca a queer
I’ll hiss and I’ll whistle, I’ll curse and I’ll shout
He’ll have no idea what Daddy’s rambling about
It’s not a true day at the ballpark till you’re escorted out
And that’s why I love
Swinging a bat
Snatching a purse
Scoring some ecstasy
And stealing a hearse
Picking up a tranny whore
Dressed like a nurse
Goddamn, I love baseball!
Track Name: One Big Gesture
How do I love thee, baby?
Let me count the many ways
But none of it seems like enough when I don’t see you for days an’ days
I just can’t live without you
Baby, if you only knew
And I know just what to do
To prove my love to you
I’ll spray-paint your name on an overpass
I’ll order airbrushed t-shirts with caricatures of our faces on them
I’ve got to make one big gesture to let you know that you hold my heart in your hand
I’ll spray-paint your name on an overpass
If you go out with me, baby
I’ll prove my love is stronger than strong
We’ll watch whatever Netflix sent me, then I’ll buy you fancy coffee with a Starbucks coupon
I’ll take your kid to the park and I’ll hang him upside down by his ankles until he pukes
Because my love for you
Is truer than true
I’ll buy a pit bull and name him after you
I’ll stand outside your apartment playing “Wonderful Tonight” on a plastic recorder
I’ve gotta make one big gesture to prove that nobody can love you the way that I do
So I’ll buy this pit bull and name him after you
So many ways to show my love for you
A Southern Man knows how to treat his princess right
So I tell you how I’ll show my love for you
The way the guys in line for the roller coaster do
I’ll tattoo your kid’s face on my shoulder blade
I’ll change your grandmother’s diapers and hold your purse while you go to the bathroom
I’ll chain myself to your Hyundai and dress up like that big fat Hispanic from “Lost”
I’ll tattoo your kid’s shoulder blade on my face