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Ernst Hayim aka "Dilettante" and "Would you Please Stop Talking?" is a song-writer who invests considerable energy in layered lyricism. A rhythmic self-taught g
Ernst Hayim aka "Dilettante" and "Would you Please Stop Talking?" is a song-writer who invests considerable energy in layered lyricism. A rhythmic self-taught guitar player, Ernst also plays the harmonica, keyboards and Appalachian dulcimer. Ernst is also a writer and a teacher. He happens to have graduate degrees in Evolutionary Biology, Genetics, and Economics (in progress).
Song Info
Genre
Acoustic • Acoustic Folk
Charts
#6,026 today Peak #130
#1,370 in subgenre Peak #20
Author
Ernst Hayim
Rights
Ernst Hayim
Uploaded
June 14, 2010
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.3 MB • 128 kbps • 3:38
Lyrics
Fascist Killer Typewriter Bobby's lost his voice and Marilyn's knees are growing fat Your idiot leader ate his foot and said history owed him one The comedy wimp is baring his bitter depressive heart he said I'd try to make you laugh if I could figure out where to start Nursing your fevers, I stumble through the dark I run right past the dealer, for fear of getting caught Policemen on horses, surround me in the park But they only wanted pictures, they were tired of playing god Did my calloused hands hurt you Every time you got too close How did your fairytale romance Devolve into sleazy bitter farce Like a pimple bursts to the surface, you reluctantly leave your bed Your self-help show's been canceled, is it time you helped yourself And as your head begins to scream, you wish you could somehow turn it off But darling don't you realize, your head is all you've got And if the drugs could get any weaker you know I still might need you So put your affections someplace safe Until you're sure of the choices you've made Have you finally lost interest In listening to me whine Now I never was the original Just a cardboard cutout clown My fascist killer typewriter It didn't last very long Oh I know it doesn't matter These words just won't be sung I promise I'll put away my guitar If you sacrifice the shopworn art Baby then we can sit between bare walls And celebrate how we've both dissolved
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