My Velvet Rut: Another Compilation of Stuff by Me

by Steve Fitch

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My Music by Me Music no. ME80

Derived from these albums:

01 from “Stellar” / © 2013
02 from “My Beautiful World” / © 2013
03 from “Hecknology” / © 2012
04 from “Brown Town” / © 2013
05 from “A Curse in Reverse” / © 2012
06 from “Fucksgiving” / © 2013
07 from “Lost in Austin” / © 2012
08 from “Dominique” / © 2012
09 from “My Beautiful World” / © 2013
10 from “Bellybuttonhole” / © 2013
11 from “Legitimate Bastard” / © 2012
12 from “The Life” / © 2013
13 from “A Curse in Reverse” / © 2012
14 from “Bellybuttonhole” / © 2013
15 from “Brown Town” / © 2013
16 from “With the Moon behind Me” / © 2012
17 from “Non-Man” / © 2014
18 from “Stellar” / © 2013
19 from “Ministry of Love” / © 2011
20 from “An Hour off Your Life” / 2011

Those albums and others can be downloaded here:

Hit me:


released March 20, 2014

All music, lyrics & recording © 2011-2014 Steve Fitch; published by My Music by Me Muisic (BMI).



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Steve Fitch

All the recordings here have been produced since 2009. Downloads are via links.

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Track Name: Signed

You and your buddies, all weary and ragged,
playing wherever you can –
you can only do this another few years,
playing for losers who clap between beers
and touring in a junky old van.

The girlfriend wants you to quit,
stay at home, settle down, and just be a dad.
Either persist 'til you make it,
or your aging body can't take it
anymore, and you wish that you had.

Put that ideal of integrity
out of your mind –
you may have a vision,
but don't be blind:
you gotta get signed
if you don't wanna be left behind.

The Label Guys see this gang of you bands
as one big alternacrowd
to market to a new demographic,
and make a lotta bucks from the traffic,
'cause kids wanna turn it up loud.

Your friend's band's star is rapidly rising,
while yours is not even cruising.
Hitchin' your wagon to his star
would be like a jump-start from his car,
so you won't feel like you're really using.

Put that crap about integrity
out of your mind –
you may have a vision,
but don't be blind:
you gotta get signed
if you don't wanna be left behind.

Decades later, if you are remembered
among the alternalegion,
You'll be featured in some retrospective
film from historic perspective
about prominent bands from your region.

In your house that you bought with the money
you got from your one hit in heavy rotation,
the interviewer asks you to impart
your wisdom to bands before they start
touring all over the nation:

"Put the ideal of integrity
out of your mind –
you may have a vision,
but don't be blind:
you gotta get signed
if you don't wanna be left behind."

© 2013 Steve Fitch
Track Name: I Don't Wanto

you're the girl next door
fresh air on a sunny day
i'm from down the road
long ago and far away
your hugs are handshakes
and your body's what makes
your world make sense
i've survived by not
wanting what i ain't got
in emotional defense
please don't make me want you
i don't want to want to

you're the girl i should
have known at your age
the disease of my life
is in too advanced a stage
past our just enjoying
each other is annoying
that there's significance
or a complicated dance
in store for you and me
please don't make me want you
i don't want to want to

i knew a girl like you
who was your age
her sweet compassion
turned to bitter rage
wanted me as a savior
from her own behavior
and that of other men
hated me for blowin' it
without my even knowin' it
and i lost my best friend
please don't make me want you
i don't want to want to
please don't make me want you
i don't want to want to want to
please don't make me want to
i don't want to want you

© 2013 Steve Fitch
Track Name: The Man with the Two-Headed Penis

Oh, here he comes –
oh, there he goes –
Where is he from?
Nobody knows.

Where does he live?
What does he do?
What is his name?
I'd thought you knew.

He's The Man With the Two-Headed Penis –
but it's not a name that he chose.
Everybody says it, but nobody's seen it –
just an other thing that everyone here already knows.

Oh, does he know
that is his name?
Because he looks
to show no shame.

What he is called
is such a disgrace;
no one says it
to his face.

He's The Man With the Two-Headed Penis –
but it's not a name that he chose.
Everybody says it, but nobody's seen it –
not the kind of thing that any grown man proudly shows.

Hey, everyone,
now that's enough –
it's time to stop
this gossip stuff,

because he had
a mother, too,
and she loved him
like yours did you.

"He's the man with the two-headed penis,"
people say everywhere that he goes.
Everybody laughs, but nobody's seen it –
just an other thing that people would like to suppose.

© 2012 Steve Fitch
Track Name: Anthropopulation

The only education back in school
was in looking cute and acting cool,
designed to make one hip, not wise –
anthropology internalized –
and now I know that all iId learned
was not to scream while getting burned,
and never let them see me sweat,
and hope by next year they'll forget.

And out into the world we spread,
to find the diet we'd been fed
wasn't quite enough to grow on –
assert ourselves, succeed, and so on –
except for those who had been prepped
for surest footing where they stepped
along a shortcut to the top,
where, if we'd try to climb, we'd drop.

From this no one escapes
but exceptionally clever apes:
one mind – one folk – one nation
one single anthropopulation.

Some people get, some people don't;
some never will, some never won't,
and such will either just expect –
anthropology is in effect:
survival of the this- or that-est –
starve the thin and feed the fattest –
to preserve the status quo,
and don't admit to what you know.

© 2013 Steve Fitch
Track Name: She Makes Me Wish

i could do without deceptions and lies
and hearing her talk about other guys
and wondering where the next is coming from
and whether she's malicious or just dumb
but she knows I'm the owner
of a big angry boner
and doesn't it appall me
that she knows that she can call me
when i don't want to hear from her again?
she makes me wish i were attracted to men

she could talk about herself for days
but her lips move in mystifying ways
no matter what stupid things they've said
they're like fluffy pillows for my head
so soft and inviting
without even any biting
but it would be more efficient
if i were self-sufficient
and be more than an amazing party trick
she makes me wish i could such my own dick

she's the finest woman you could meet
a little to the courtyard and a lot to the street
when i see that double bubbl
i know i will look for trouble
and usually will find it
when i am behind it
but it would be something fearless
and would render me peerless
i would definitely be in my own class
she makes me wish i could fuck my own ass

© 2013 Steve Fitch
Track Name: Envyland (Lost in Austin Version)

I hear all about her feelings,
all things with which she’s dealing,
but when I need some empathy,
she snaps and lashes-out at me.
She’s touchy-feely with a ten-foot pole;
got no brains, but plenty of soul,
while not knowing what to do
with the wishes she commands
here in Envyland.

I hear him tell my jokes
and sound witty to those other folks,
taking credit and the glory
for my amusing and amazing story.
He resents he can’t do, too
what I’ve practiced all my life to do –
accomplishments come quick and easy,
and greatness, second-hand,
here in Envyland.

This is just a big small town
where people hold each other down,
always trying to hold-back
somene who has what they lack –
they feel entitled to it,
but sit around and never do it.
“Give up what makes you special.”
is all that people here demand,
here in Envyland.

We’re all sisters and brothers
with no fathers nor mothers,
and all entitled to the same
as any winner in the game,
where seldom is heard
an encouraging word,
and praise is held in escrow
’til some favor changes hands,
here in Envyland.

Everything I have is what I‘ve earned;
everything I know is what I’d learned;
everything I want is in my hand –
I’m unfit to live in Envyland.

© 2011 Steve Fitch
Track Name: My Beautiful World

linda went back home to berlin
so i call her "berlinda" for fun
i know i'll never see her again
as though she were never someone
i'll never be able to go there
but it's cool that there's someone i know there
i won't go – i will stay here
in my beautiful beautiful
beautiful beautiful world

every morning i'm awakened
by persistent percussive sound
of mexican men as they're building
the kondos-for-kids all around
despite all the years that i've spent here
it's the kids' world; i just pay rent here
i won't go – i will stay here
in my beautiful beautiful
beautiful beautiful world

talk to me about things
without letting a word in
that i'm refusing to try
my atrophied wings
became a burden
so i learned not to miss
being able to fly

someday i'd like to take my
life to its next proper stage
meanwhile i'm getting older
as everyone stays the same age
so many whom i've never met, there
but what would i do when i'd get there?
i won't go – i will stay here
in my beautiful beautiful
beautiful beautiful world

© 2013 Steve Fitch
Track Name: Forty-Five

She's 45,
if she's alive –
forever 22 on video –
and fixed, for me,
in memory
as someone whom I'd just had to know.

Last time I'd seen
her now has been
as many years as she was then as old.
I might revise,
or just re-size,
the story any way it might be told.

And if we met
now, I'd forget
the special way she's stayed in memory,
so what's the good
to wish she would
traverse the years and get in touch with me?

© 2013 Steve Fitch
Track Name: Legitimate Bastard

If not for this place,
we'd have nowhere to go,
and no one would care,
and no one would know.
Thanks in this orphanage,
I'm a legitimate bastard.

We're all buried children
who'd dug their own ground,
anonymous no-ones
who'll never be found.
Living to this orphanage,
I'm a legitimate bastard.

Accepting what little
this stingy life gave us,
we still hope that someday
someone will save us –
waiting in this orphanage,
I'm a legitimate bastard

What a pain and a drain that
we must be supported –
it remains a shame that none
of us had been aborted.
By the grace of this orphanage,
I'm a legitimate bastard.

© 2012 Steve Fitch
Track Name: Testing

They sent me out of class
down to the basement
because I'm different
for some testing

Several times, the man
made me answer questions
as though he were trying
to decipher an enigma

They never told me what they'd learned

The government had
sprayed the air
where 10,000 blacks
lived in the projects

with a toxic substance
likely radioactive
but they'd assured them
that it was harmless

They never told us what they'd learned

© 2013 Steve Fitch`
Track Name: Fucked-Up Fuck-Ups Fucking-Up
Fucked-up fuck-ups, fucking-up fucked-up, fuck me up.
Track Name: When You Die

You, too engrossed in the vital
to bother with claiming your title,
'til the question looked you in the eye:
who will you be when you die?

Which of the places had claimed you?
Where is the place which had named you,
and where would the "welcome" mat lie
for whom you will be when you die?

There is no permanent record
of such a past all too checkered,
but the future's the permanent size
of every man after he dies.

On that day when I became you,
I was no longer the same you,
as you were that forgotten guy
whom I won't be when I die.

© 2013 Steve Fitch
Track Name: Centuries of Shame

It's finally time to lose that ugly name,
and along with it, the centuries of shame
that ancestors had brought from where they came.
Now you're no longer one of them,
and nevermore the same.

Let no one ever tell you that you'd lied,
in light of all the comforts you'd denied,
as you'd struggled just to reach a point of pride
in spite of all the shame
that you'd every right to hide.

Your story'd make a novel or a play
that wouldn't do it justice, either way,
as your whole life has been led as though to say,
"Keep your centuries of shame;
now watch me go away."

© 2013 Steve Fitch
Track Name: Empty

I could spend the rest of my life with you –
I literally have nothing better to do.
I'm nothing.
Make me something.

My sense of envy will never forget
those two on the beach, watching the sun set.
I'm no one.
Make me someone.

You'd make a good wife for someone other than me,
but we all know I need it more than he.
I'm empty.
Fill me with love.

I could spend the rest of my life with you.
There would be nothing better I could do.
I'm empty.
Fill me with love.

© 2014 Steve Fitch
Track Name: Persona Non Grata

I saw him bummin' around,
his guitar draggin' the ground,
as though he were going nowhere
or he just wasn't there.

He passed by the windows
of places where he's been banned,
looking back in on people
who'd lined-up to shake his hand.

Persona Non Grata
slipped between the strata.

There was this girl he was seeing:
he'd loved her with all of his being,
but she'd had an agenda –
a post-script to him, with addenda.

All the women, post-her,
disappointed, could not see
his disappointment in them
was that they were not she.

Love of His Life,
someone else's wife.

He could have been famous,
but he never he felt quite the same as
those who rose out of that mess
perfumed in success.

Here in the future,
what should he do now?
Cry-out, "Come back,
I'm ready for you now?"

Has-Been never was;
it's that way "because."

Too much had been hung
on the back of being so young,
when what seemed like nonsense
became permanent consequence.

Older now, he wants
to announce a new age;
instead, he's proclaiming
that nostalgia is sewage:

"Forget what was you –
there's still more to do."

© 2013 Steve Fitch
Track Name: My Velvet Rut

Last week I went skinny-dipping
with some college kids who were tripping
at some apartment-complex pool.
They were born when I was their age,
but they were pretty cool.

I tried to tell 'em 'bout the ways
that we did things in the good old days,
and how we never worried 'bout the rent;
then they put their clothes on,
and I don't know where they went.

These new ones don't understand,
and think I'm some old nut.
I'm just groovin' along here in my velvet rut.

la-di-da-di-da-di-daaaaa . . .

Rode my bike to the food co-op –
the natural place for me to shop –
and bought a gallon of organic water;
flirted with the checkout girl
who's young enough to be my daughter.

Call me a die-hard optimist,
but modern girls still can't resist
my good ol' horny-hippie rap,
even though some people tell me,
"These girls don't fall for that old crap."

I suppose that I'm really looking for
is some cute holistic teenage slut
to share all this space in my velvet rut.

la-di-da-di-da-di-daaaaa . . .

You might see me at some party
where the guests are kinda arty
and there's no food, but lots of booze,
which the host, whoever he is,
would find it rude if I'd refuse.

I came to a party here before –
or maybe it was the house next door –
and I'd left the conversation I just entered:
this is how I'd held my beer
as I'd last laughed and bantered.

All I have to show for years of
coming to these parties is a gut,
just an occupational hazard of living in my velvet rut.

la-di-da-di-da-di-daaaaa . . .

I awoke this morning from a
nightmare of an endless summer
that makes it hard to believe it'll ever get colder.
I've seen 'em come and go,
and where they end up, I don't know,
but all I ever get from this is older.

Don't pass me another beer –
it'll only keep me longer here,
and it's all I can do not to stay.
The party ended long ago,
although it rages to this day.

One day in the pleasure dome;
next day in a nursing home,
where everybody's old and toothless –
how could I have believed
that I never would be youthless?

God forbid I should ever wait for
an attendant to come wipe my butt,
while still living here in my velvet rut.

la-di-da-di-da-di-daaaaa . . .

© 2011 Steve Fitch