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SAD TO SAY
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'Text your friends and Tweet your list / About the sale you almost missed'
whistler old growth clear cut 2010 olympics oly and the fat cats
The Story of Oly Oly was raised by a family of beavers in the wilds of British Columbia after being inadvertently left at a forest campsite by his Swiss parent
BAND MEMBERS OLY M. PUK: Vocals, uke and lubrication BINDER 'Squash Me' PANU: Bass, veggie snacks, bouncer RICKI 'Sue Me' SANTINI: Percussion, money laundering, bail AUSTIN 'Mucky-Muck' KOWLOON: Keyboards, greasing palms, looks of disdain THE STORY OF OLY Oly was raised by a family of beavers in the wilds of British Columbia after being inadvertently left at a forest campsite by his Swiss parents who were rushing for a ferry in Prince Rupert. By the time they noticed Oly wasn't in the back of their rented motor home, Oly's parents were already on the ferry to Port Hardy, and they were too embarrassed to tell anyone. (Plus, they had another son back home who was showing more promise.) So they decided to keep their mouths shut and continue their journey across Canada. It wasn't until many years later that Oly's beaver parents told him he wasn't their real son, and Oly was so traumatized, he threw his retainer (overbite) and some bark chips in a backpack and started hitch hiking to the big city. That's where he met Ricki Santini, who was scalping tickets outside GM Place at the time to pay her way through law school. Ricki taught Oly how to survive on the mean streets and dance floors of Vancouver and was there for him when Oly discovered there was more than one meaning to the word 'beaver'. It was a fateful rainy night one autumn when Oly and Ricki decided to try ripping off a cab driver by jumping out of his taxi when they got to their destination. That cab driver was Binder Panu, who had them both by the scruff of the neck with their feet off the ground before they'd made it twenty yards. Binder smacked them together like cymbals a couple times until Ricki started pulling bills out of her pockets and smooth-talking her way out of it. Which is how Binder and Ricki discovered they had a mutual love for masala dosa and idli. (Oly was bawling like a baby and making strange animal sounds.) After a late-night snack at ****** , they decided they really should do something meaningful with their lives. And doing it together would be like, even more cool, dude. So they pooled their money and bought a Play Station 2. Years later, they had bonded in a way that only countless hours of video games can lead to, and when Guitar Hero came out, they discovered their unbelievably awesome musical talents. That's when they formed the band "RICKI, BEAVER, and BINDER", which was an abysmal failure since real instruments are much harder to play than video games. But they stuck with it and eventually ran into Austin Kowloon at a Rave when they were all on E and discovered they really, really, loved hugging each other. (That was the one and only time in their lives they have ever taken drugs because drugs are very, very bad for you. Unless they're made by massive pharmaceutical companies, of course.) Austin joined the band, suggested the name change, and had all the connections they needed to make it BIG! Well, not really big, but his daddy did let them play under the tent at the family's annual Dim Sum and Fox Hunt Party. Anyway, that's Oly's story, and he's sticking to it.
Song Info
Charts
Peak #559
Peak in subgenre #60
Uploaded
August 13, 2010
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MP3
MP3 3.4 MB 128 kbps 3:44
Lyrics
IT'S SAD TO SAY It seems at times we never learn We light the fires and watch them burn We feel the pain the victims feel But flat deny the sex appeal Of front-row seats to agony That we keep tuning in to see Ita€™s sad to say we crave the fires That satisfy our dark desires Ita€™s sad to say we bow our heads To empty men on empty quests Who steal the gold and buy the power Then broadcast to us every hour That everything will be just fine As long as we just stay in line So we dona€™t mind the things they do As long as ita€™s not to me or you Ita€™s sad to say, ita€™s sad to say Yeah ita€™s sad to say, so sad to say That we dona€™t learn We just dona€™t learn No, we dona€™t learn It seems at times we worship gods Whoa€™d have us die for worthless causes Text your friends and Tweet your list About the sale you almost missed Describe the prize thata€™s in your hands But dona€™t admit you dona€™t understand The emptiness that gnaws inside You swore this one would satisfy It seems at times we learn the most When wea€™re down to our one last hope One last chance to make things right To bare your soul with all your might Confess your crimes, confess your sins Tell her what a fool youa€™ve been Then wait for her to make the move a€˜Cause youa€™ve made her the judge of you Ita€™s sad to say, ita€™s sad to say Yeah ita€™s sad to say, so sad to say That we dona€™t learn We just dona€™t learn No, we dona€™t learn ©2010 Van Clayton Powel
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