David Hatfield | Dysfunctional Circus

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Rock: Goth Avant Garde: Experimental Moods: Mood: Fun
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Dysfunctional Circus

by David Hatfield

PSST! (SOUNDS LIKE AN ORGIE WITH SYD BARRET, DAVID BOWEY ,LATE BEATLES AND THE BROTHERS GRIMM.) PERFECT SONGS FOR GOTH BANDS TO COVER
Genre: Rock: Goth
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1. Come Into My Mind
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2. My Creative Dream (...with Sarah)
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3. Song And Dance
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4. Unify
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5. Frakenstein
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6. The Mortal And The Dead
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7. Beverly Manor
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8. Sit By The Side Of The Road
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9. Penguins On The Moon
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10. A.D.D.
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11. Friends In The Graveyard
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12. Quit Crying For My Soul (...with Sarah)
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ABOUT THIS ALBUM


Album Notes
------R O Y A L T Y ------------F R E E-

(SCROLL DOWN FOR LYRICS)

INCORPORATING THE 'HARMONIUM' into all or most songs to promote it's legitimate right to be considered a common folk instrument...


Special Thanks (in equal order) to 'Sarah' for her Wonderful singing and to Dauber Designs for such a 1st class CD Cover.



Check Out My Other CD's at: cdbaby.com/all/hat

or

http://www.cduniverse.com/sresult.asp?psychicsearch=on&HT_Search=ARTIST&HT_Search_Info=David+Hatfield&cart=837480735&style=music&altsearch=yes





Well I've been writing for most of my life. I Love Bob Dylan and his Beatle allies. Tom Waits is my Moses and I really try to put my heart and soul into my music. I'm trying to develop an almost eclectic kind of music, where there's consistancy yes, at least to some degree, but still that, well, let's say 'wondering'of 'what he's going to do next...' My music ranges mostly from folk, to pop, and future albums merging different styles into one. I want to try to keep the hooks though, because the last thing I would ever want to do is bore people and lose them. If that's the case I might as well just play alone in the basement while the dogs just watch and wag their tales, hoping I'll feed them soon. I try to write about what I know, in relationship to the world around me. Sometimes I, get tremendously superficial, other times just the opposite, ranging from social commentary, Living with A.D.D, to the work place.I try to write music that people can relate to, at least in many cases. Support the sound if you like and please Enjoy. L/Dave

L Y R I C S:

'COME INTO MY MIND'
WORDS/MUSIC David Hatfield Copyright 1994


In my mind I see the things most people cannot understand; creative thoughts and fantasies of gypsies dancing in the sand. Surrealistic pictures flashing deep inside my aching head. Purple stallions flying over burning skies of green and cyan.
I don't think I'll get to sleep but I don't want to go to bed. I can't rest with all these happy monkeys 'jump'n' on my head. Chocolate clouds and yellow smoke that rise across a naked pope. Jelly sewers drain the smell of mustard flavored horse flies.


--COME INTO MY MIND. YOU MAY HATE IT BUT IT'S MINE. NO I DON'T THINK YOU'D EVEN WANT TO VISIT ANY WAY--

I hear the voices echoing of rotting stench from yesterday. Absorb the messages of filth yet try to mop my own decay. But then my doggy cheers me up; he gives me such a happy grin as fallen angels torture me by dining underneath my chin.

-Chorus-

I jump onto my magic whale to drift across the sea of piss. With maggots biting at my ankles (why )won't this world just disappear now? Midgets prancing through my yard as trolls will laugh in mockery. Birds with broken wings will fall down to the ground in pain and misery.

-Chorus

‘MY CREATIVE DREAM’
WORDS AND MUSIC DAVID HATFIELD COPYRIGHT 1998

Life doesn’t always bring you what you want. The world doesn’t seem to give you all
you need to live these days it seems, and all your hopes and dreams are crushed into the mold of everything.

Every boy grows up thinking that when he is a man, that he will be a hero in a fantasy land. Sometimes it doesn’t work out that way, Superman ends up shoveling hay and you’re not the man you thought you’d be today.

-Chorus-

CLOSE YOUR EYES AND IMAGINE US LIKE EAGLES IN THE SKY. SOARING OVER EVERYONE IN HEAVEN WHEN WE DIE. AND WE WILL HAVE THE POWER THAT THE WORLD TRIED TO TAKE AWAY. WE WILL FLY TOGETHER ON THAT DAY. ON THAT DAY.

Parents try to raise you thinking school is worth a damn. They condition you for college subsidized by Uncle Sam. But the real world is a bastard, it sneaks up from behind. It breaks you like a toothpick and it loves to rob your mind.

Life just loves to build you up
before it tears you down and if by some great miracle you ever come around, you’ll wonder why the things you hate are the only things that pay; and the happiness that you once had is just a part of yesterday.

-Chorus-

I guess that’s just the way it is and there’s not much we can do, but hold onto those fantasies that never may come true. Just try to treat the world the way it never treated you and hold to those hopes and dreams, that just might help you through.

-Chorus-

MY CREATIVE DREAM. MY CREATIVE DREAM. OUR CREATIVE DREAM.




‘SONG AND DANCE’

WORDS AND MUSIC DAVID HATFIELD COPYRIGHT 2004

Same old song, same old dance. Nice if they’d just give you half a chance. Work all day. Sing all night. Sure hope they call your name on price is right. Same old work, same old job, be better off to date the mob, at least they’ll pay you more to be their whore.

Mr. Bo jangles; marketing angle. You might as well just tap dance on their table. Life is Jazz. Work is Blues, when they make you wait in line just to pay your dues. Same old game of ‘Let’s Pretend’, same old bills you have to pay. In the end it’s just for money
Anyway.

“Weekly meeting! Just a reminder!” You’re the monkey and they’re the organ grinder. “Welcome to the carnival. Glittering lights.” Step right up and win the right to lose your rights. Not a minute late ‘gotta’ be on time, like a condescending pantomime,
only you’re the clown when it rolls down hill to you.

‘Gotta’ be psychic, crystal ball. Read their mind or you could lose it all. ‘You didn’t catch on’, you’re just a pawn. ‘checkmate’ clear your desk your nameplate’s gone.

Going postal is looking fun, but even if I had a gun. All
of them are worth the crime but not the prison time.

But I ‘gotta’ make a living, so I’ll pretend to give a damn, about this pointless service to ‘The Man.’ I’m ‘gonna’ call in sick so catch me if you can.



‘UNIFY’
WORDS AND MUSIC DAVID HATFIELD COPYRIGHT 2003


I’m crawling through and endless tunnel filled with rats. I feel just like a dog trapped in a world of cats. Haunted by my tortured soul that’s crying to be free, molded to the product of conformity.

Don’t you wish that life would give you so much more? Don’t you hate it every time they slam the door? Persecuted for your creativity, become a senseless victim of society.

Tragic waste of talent is a crying shame. Better kick some ass and learn to play their game. Or live inside your body as you rot away.

EVERY FUCKING DAY

Sometimes it’s like you’re living in a foreign land. Speak a better language they won’t understand. As if originality were some disease that narrow minded people have to mock and tease.

They say you have to sacrifice to meet your dreams. As if you can’t be happy that’s the way it seems. That’s not a price that anyone should have to pay.

EVERY FUCKING DAY

Captured as the puppets of intolerance. Ignored by freedom carved by simple Common Sense. A stallion filled with spirit force and energy. Yearning to be running wild, fast and free.

NOTHINGS ‘GONNA’ CHANGE AND WE MUST REALIZE. IT WILL ALWAYS
BE THE SAME UNLESS WE ORGANIZE. UNTIL WE UNIFY IT’S ‘GONNA’ STAY THAT WAY.

EVERY FUCKING DAY. EVERY FUCKING DAY. EVERY FUCKING DAY

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------











'FRANKENSTEIN'
WORDS MUSIC DAVID HATFIELD COPYRIGHT 2004.

If Rumpelstiltskin
had his way, he'd make me suffer every day. I walk a tight rope across the ridge, then kiss the troll under the bridge...under the bridge.

Dancing babies one by one. Singing laughing having fun, while Nazi's whisper to themselves, drinking tea with angry elves...angry elves.

---SOMETIMES I FEEL LIKE FRANKENSTEIN. I NEED SOMETHING TO CLEAR MY MIND. INFECTED FROM ANOTHER LAND. THESE DREAMS ARE GETTING OUT OF HAND.

Strolling down fifth avenue, I come up to the city zoo with chickens hopping ten feet tall. Goblins climbing down the wall... down the wall.

Talking lizard in my fist. Drunken little snake around my wrist...Billie goat that flies around, has nine legs and makes no sound...no sound.

-chorus-

I finally disappear from Enchanted Valley, then I reappear in a darkened ally. Window open just above my head. Climb into the ball room painted red... painted red.

House smells like a dead man's tomb. Flowers in the middle of an empty room...hug my pillow filled with snails as I walk through twisted fairy tales... fairy tales.

-chorus-

These nightmares just won't go away. I have one almost every day. I think my shrink is getting rich. I guess my life is just a bitch.



Song One: 'THE MORTAL AND THE DEAD'

WORDS AND MUSIC DAVID HATFIELD COPYRIGHT 2000


‘Creep’n’
down the stairs at night. Guided dim by candle light and I turn the knob on squeaky door. Walk outside the rain will poor and I'm friend to everything I see, except my own sobriety.
Became relaxed from cans I drank...held a bottle as a septic tank. Swimming through the trash I find, friendly toys to ease my mind. Stumble over ally cat, wearing gloves and old top hat. I tango with a totem pole; banshees ‘tugg'n’ at my soul.

Walk across a long brick wall...hope to hell that I don't fall and I'm climb'n down a beat up fence. I'd sell my soul for 60 cents. Graveyard just across the way with eager spirits
quick to play.

Walking past dark pearly gates with gothic skulls and fear that waits. I read the tombstone of my fate; lying in a wooden crate. Across the street dogs barking loud at gargoyles standing high and proud. The mortal and the dead as one; till separated by the sun.

Stricken by a lightning beam, I wake up knowing it's a dream, until I lifted up the sheet, colored by my bloody feet; drenched in blood and shards of glass and headache never soon to pass.

Guilty knowing it's not right I'll still get drunk tomorrow night, but even reckless life insane is better than a life mundane. Sleep until tomorrow night. Sleep (tight) until tomorrow night.



'BEVERLY MANOR'

WORDS AND MUSIC DAVID HATFIELD COPYRIGHT 2004

Bobby's playing with this brand new doll. Simon is sure that he's 12 feet tall. And Jennifer is a man. She's hiding it all 'he' can.

Roger's chasing everybody around. He truly believes he's a big blood hound. He buries things in the ground and makes a loud barking sound.

Welcome to the community. I hope you like the scenery, if you don't go mad you might enjoy the view. Everyone is free to roam, but nobody is really home, so stick around and soon you'll be here too.

Bill will cross the Delaware, in nothing but his underwear and soon he'll fight the Dolphin King.

Allison loves to pretend she's dead, but she gives it away when she wets the bed and Jennifer is a man. She's hiding it all 'he' can.

It's just a mental factory, pardon the broken machinery. Just sit right back and enjoy the latest 'craze.' A theatre for insanity, malfunction of humanity so take your pills and wander through the maze.

Joan just wrote a letter to the President today. She sent it certified to JFK.

Tom just gave birth to his seventh kid. Nobody knows quite how he did. And Jennifer's still a man. Still hiding it all he can.


The orderlies are crazy too; trapped inside this awful zoo. I'm the only sane one in the place. So I'll watch TV with Aliens, 'cause' they abducted my best friends and soon we'll meet the Jefferson's in space.

I'm the leader of the pack and soon I'll fake a heart attack. So lets hold hands and kiss the moon.



‘SIT BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD’

WORDS AND MUSIC DAVID HATFIELD COPYRIGHT 2000


Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever find something to guide my peace of mind. Shrouded in envy for those who know, just what they’re doing and where they should go.

Stumbling through the fog without a light. Wishing the sun would take away the night.

I’ve made decisions, some I regret, but still I’ll deal with, whatever I get. And I guess I shouldn’t fear, my stranded world unclear and blinding me.

-Chorus-
AND SOMETIMES I JUST SIT BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD.


…watching the traffic go by each day, just a destination away.

So many people, I knew as a kid. Now doing what I never did. They’re lives just like a hand on a clock. Pointing toward the road of life they walk.

-Chorus-

…and maybe someday I will see, what’s really bothering me then I’ll be free.






‘PENGUINS ON THE MOON’

WORDS AND MUSIC DAVID HATFIELD COPYRIGHT 2004

Some people probably think I’m crazy. But I’m far too busy being lazy. Some say I’m not that motivated. That kind of makes me irritated. ‘Cause’ they’re like Nazi’s working 9 to 5. Stuck in traffic with a four hour drive and they come home to a life they hate and

WAIT…maybe It’s THEY who are crazy.

Some say that sacrifice is money. Funny I have to disagree. They say that without money you can’t raise children. I say “Hey great! That’s fine with me.” Why would I want people ‘scream’n in my ear, asking me for money, stealing my beer and waking me up at 6 on Saturday Morning?

I say that life’s all about what you value. Not just what others say you should. A moderate apartment keeps the rain off just as well as a three story doll house ever could.
But some people just don’t get it and I don’t think they will soon and they might as well be Penguins on the moon.

Hopping around like headless chicken. Trapped inside the cold life that they’re ‘living.’ Frozen stiff and so uptight. Grounded by the fear of flight, if they could just have fun maybe they’d know what they’re ‘missen’.

I leave you with this final notion. What truly fuels your hearts devotion? Do you really want to die at 47? Stress is not the way to get to heaven….and if money’s what you want then you better be sure you really need that silver spoon or you’ll just be a penguin on the moon.



‘A. D. D’

WORDS AND MUSIC DAVID HATFIELD
COPYRIGHT 2003


When I was a child my mind was running wild with art and creativity, but I couldn’t catch up with the other kids who often stood ahead of me.

The teachers at school were quick to ridicule “Why don’t you pay attention” they would tell me. Back then I didn’t know that I wasn’t slow, I just learned things differently.

And when I got older I went from job to job and the boss always left me feeling cheated. Now I’m fighting in a battle I can never win and it often makes me feel defeated.


AND I’M TIRED OF BREAKING MY BACK JUST SO I CAN BE AVERAGE.
I’M SICK OF WISHING THAT I COULD BE SOMEBODY ELSE. I’M UNDERESTIMATED, BY THE OVER RATED AND MY TALENT ONLY GETS IGNORED.

Those condescending voices of those who think they know, just what it’s like each day. They should learn some respect, but they love to neglect anything that doesn’t pay.

AND I DON’T LIKE WORKING TO DEATH JUST SO I CAN LOOK NORMAL OR PRETENDING TO HEAR WHAT PEOPLE SAY WHEN I DON’T. PRESCRIPTION MEDICATION ONLY GOES SO FAR. SO FAR.

Some people think I’m gifted and some people say I’m dumb. It’s a terrible marriage that keeps me feeling numb. Any pain inside, starts to hide when I realize I’m not alone.

BUT I’M MAD AT THIS LEFT BRAINED WORLD THAT I HAVE TO LIVE IN, WHERE PEOPLE ARE BLIND TO ANY ART THEY SEE. NO MATTER WHAT I DO, IT’S NEVER GOOD ENOUGH FOR ANYONE BUT ME

Now all I have is art and the music fights the stress and I confess it’s getting better every day, but greater understanding is all we are demanding to keep ignorance at bay.

ARE YOU TIRED OF BREAKING YOUR BACK JUST SO YOU CAN BE AVERAGE? ARE YOU SICK OF WISHING THAT YOU COULD BE SOMEBODY ELSE? ARE YOU UNDERESTIMATED, BY THE OVER RATED, YOU’RE NOT ALONE. NO YOU’RE NOT ALONE.


‘QUIT CRYING FOR MY SOUL’
WORDS AND MUSIC DAVID HATFIELD COPYRIGHT 1997

I don’t want to listen anymore. Sometimes I think that you are just a bore. I don’t want to hear the things you say. Maybe I’ll just have to go away.

AND PLEASE QUIT CRYING FOR MY SOUL. WHY DON’T YOU LET IT GO? MAYBE YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT I WILL NEVER BE LIKE YOU. I THINK YOU KNOW IT’S TRUE AND THAT’S JUST FINE WITH ME. IT’S FINE WITH ME.

I hate it when you tell me not to swear. You judge me and expect that I should care. Why are you acting so uptight? You are always free to pick a fight.

-Chorus-

I’ve got a girl and she loves me. She’s very happy to be free. She isn’t locked inside your mission. She is free to make her own decisions.

AND PLEASE QUIT CRYING FOR HER SOUL. WHY DON’T YOU LET IT GO? MAYBE YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT SHE WILL NEVER BE LIKE YOU. I THINK YOU KNOW IT’S TRUE AND THAT’S JUST FINE WITH HER. IT’S FINE WITH HER.

AND PLEASE QUIT CRYING FOR OUR SOULS. WHY DON’T YOU LET IT GO? MAYBE YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT WE WILL NEVER BE LIKE YOU. I THINK YOU KNOW IT’S TRUE AND THAT’S JUST FINE WITH US. IT’S FINE WITH US.



‘FRIENDS IN THE GRAVEYARD’

WORDS AND MUSIC DAVID HATFIELD COPYRIGHT 2004

Krumpkin is a pumpkin burning red with yellow eyes. He’s a haunted jack-o-lantern bound to catch you by surprise with a sword and shield of thunderbolts.

Peco is an angry dancing clown with purple hair. He scares the little children running down his thoroughfare…could not hurt them and teasing much more fun.

Every Halloween they both will rise up from the grave to offer havoc to the frail they crave to misbehave and torture helpless souls.

AND THEY GO HAUNTING EVERYWHERE THE FATE OF EVIL LEADS TO SCARE AND THEY ARE FRIENDS

They sneak behind the trees that guard the forest dark at night. They indulge their tainted fortitude on the feeble in their sight as howling dogs serenade.

They both will terrorize the innocent that come their way. Beelzebub has given them a game of evil play for all eternity.

AND THEY GO HAUNTING EVERYWHERE THE FATE OF EVIL LEADS TO SCARE AND THEY ARE FRIENDS

Now Peco he’s a creepy soul with temper none to match and Krumpkin is a sneaky rat you’ll almost never catch. A destined two it seems.

Deep inside the forest stood a cottage made from stone. Chimney made from ash and brick and roof inlaid with bone. There lived a tired old witch.

She stood outside to greet them then invited them inside. Every year they went there since the very day they died, for years and years and years.

They asked if they could use her broom and she said that was fine, but only if she’d come along to help them this one time, ‘cause’ it’s lonely without friends.

SO THEY WENT HAUNTING EVERYWHERE THE FATE OF EVIL LEAD TO SCARE WITH THEIR WITCH FRIEND

SO IF AT HALLOWEEN YOU HEAR AN EVIL SHREAKING SOUND AND LOOK TO SEE THREE SILLOUETTES UP HIGH ABOVE THE GROUND. IT WOULD NOT HUR TO RUN.

IT JUST MIGHT BE THOSE TWISTED THREE THAT FLUTTER THROUGH THE SKY AND THEY ARE SURE TO CATCH YOU IF YOU EVER LET THEM TRY, SO BRING A FRIEND. IT’S GOOD TO HAVE FRIENDS.


NOTE: For the closest representation of fidelity, I suggest clicking on 'play all songs' (broadband)


Reviews


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Sean

Descriptive Music
Frankenstein, Penguins, smiling dogs, purple stallions, The pope naked, burning skies, walking drunk through gothic graveyards, Halloween, crazy people, My god, this is the most descriptive and visual music I've ever heard. Reminds me of late Beatles only much darker. I noticed that you are Tom Waits influenced also. The harmonica is very 'Dylan -esque'. Your influences have helped you to develop a very descriptive and unique genre of music in my opinion. Great stuff!