Heart Like A Ass

by Doyce Whisanant



Doyce Whisanant's second collection of original American tuneage.

"An exhaustingly expansive mind... Everyone gets deer meat tonight" - LOCO MAGAZINE

"Doyce Whisanant rises forth like a fiery Phoenix from the ashen mound of Rayle, Georgia, as no doubt many savory bits rise forth from the ashen mounds of his buttocks." - HOEDOWN MAGAZINE

"Bereft of the normal miscues typically befitting such a fellow of lesser means, Doyce Whisanant is a man of single-wide circumstances with double-wide vision." - PINK TORPEDO


released April 1, 2008

Doyce Whisanant: vocals, tambourine
instrumental accompaniment by The Rayle Deal
background vocals: Kunt Hanley & The Dixie Sodomaires
Recorded & produced by Tony Arnold.



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Art Rock.

Psychedelic Prog.



Country Funk.

Space Exotica.

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Track Name: Hang Up and Fuck
Hang Up and Fuck

The wicked games you play
when we're together bend my heart.
I feel just like I'm all alone...
The way you roll them eyes and sneer,
it really makes me hard...
But when I get off,
you're still on the phone.

Hang up & fuck!!
Hang up & fuck!!

When you sexted me that day
I didn't know your name.
I couldn't trust my dumb luck...
Were you texting me just now
those three times that you came,
or just screwing around online
with some schmuck?

Hang up & fuck!!
Hang up & fuck!!
Hang up & fuck!!
Hang up & fuck!!

I've never felt so distant
from someone on bended knee...
we're miles apart in your bed.
I've never been inside someone
as she unfriended me...
guess I'll never get in her head.

Hang up & fuck!!
Hang up & fuck!!
Hang up & fuck!!
Hang up & fuck!!
Track Name: (She Thinks) She's God's Gift to Evolution
(She Thinks) She's God's Gift to Evolution

Well she's struttin' down the breezeway
like she's made of pure hot shit.
She must think she's on the runway,
but she makes me want to spit.
But she caught me catch her looking
at my greasy, stringy hair
while her baby-T was a-riding up
on a tire that's mighty spare.

Well you've seen her on the TV
on the early morning news,
You've seen her in your dreams
just as your hand was hittin' snooze.
She's always saying “Oh My God”
at every friendly wink.
She's His gift to evolution
'cause a little turd don't stink.

You'll see her at the churches,
you'll find her in the bars.
Might catch her on the balcony
just a-flashin' all the cars.
But she can't resist a mirror
or a shiny stretch of glass,
'cause she's got herself convinced
that she's His Chosen Piece of Ass.

Well you'll see her in the restaurants
and all the magazines.
You might be a little bit confused,
'cause nothing's what it seems.
She's always prayin' “Oh My God”
at every playful wink.
She's His gift to evolution
'cause a tiny turd can't stink.

She's always got the cushy job,
she's all up in the schools.
Might even do some charity
for us unlucky fools.
She's the Crown of All Creation,
and the Fount of All That's Right--
The Queen in All Her Righteousness
and all that cellulite.

Well you'll see her on the TV
as she sets a nation straight,
or else inflicting justice on
a thug three times her weight.
She's always yellin' “Oh My God”
at every knowing wink.
She's His gift to evolution
and lest you even think...
She's God's gift to evolution
'cause the little turd don't stink.
Track Name: Heart Like A Ass
Heart Like A Ass

Like a song without a chorus
Like a wife without a man
Like the road that lay before us
Like Prince Albert in a can

Skin just like a baked potato
Like a joke that went too far
Hair just like a stewed tomato
A lightning bug inside a jar

Teeth like a locomotive
Eyes like she just don't care
Love just like a cold votive
Ass just like a beanbag chair

Smell like a cold cigar
A vagrant on a crowded train
Sound like a warped guitar
A funeral in the driving rain

Round like a white beachball
Ears like a vampire bat's
Acts like she's playing possum
Bad like a sack of feral cats

Like a deer in New York City
Like a hunter without sights
Like a cyclone without pity
Like I'd quit without a fight

Pain like a big machete
Th'owed by a large monkey
Run like a '60 Chevy
Cold like a frozen hunky

Death like a cold shower
A place you never should've been
Like your final hour
A song you'll never sing again

Like a verse without a chorus
Like a show without a band
Like an independent woman
Like a lonely married man
Track Name: Hush Yer Effin' Eefin'
Hush Yer Effin' Eefin'

When I was just a boy
my mama made me go outside,
said, “Turn off that ol' TV
and go play with yourself awhile.”

But I was not out-going
and more than a little shy.
But then the neighbor girls and me
had a thing we loved to try...

And the better we got at it,
we did it all the time.
We'd do it in the church
or on the corner for a dime.

My mama soon grew weary
and sent the neighbors home,
so I would go up to my room
and do it all alone.

She'd say “Hush yer effin' eefin'”
as she grabbed her carving knife,
“You're at it every evening
so just get an effin' life.
If you don't get away from here,
I'll lose my bleepin' mind,
so hush yer effin' eefin'

But now that I'm a man
and have restrictions on my time,
I'm free to do it when I want
but mostly I'm too tired.

My wife insists she loves me
but she turns really red
when I start doing eefin'
when we're nekkid in the bed.

She says, “Hush yer effin' eefin'
and I'll be your freakin' wife.
You do it even in your sleep,
so get a flippin' life.
If I don't get away from you
I'll lose my bleepin' mind,
So hush that effin' eefin'
Track Name: Get on Your High Horse and Ride
Get on Your High Horse and Ride

Tell me all your troubles
Lay down all your care
Tell me why you're scowling
with your nose up in the air
Tease me with your tension
Thrill me with your shame
Tell me that I'm worthless
but the only one to blame

But I was still in summer camp
on the day that Jack died,
so get on your high horse and ride

Spit out every grievance
threaten me with death
Shout that I'm a racist
with your very dying breath
Tell me that I owe you,
see how much I care
since every step you ever took
was to this smokin' chair

But my ass was still in school
the day that Martin died,
so get on your high horse and ride

Paint me as a relic
Castigate my sex,
Tell 'em I'm a deadbeat
while you're cashing in my checks
Write that I'm a bigot,
a sexist and a cad,
but don't forget to mention
I'm the best you ever had

But I was doing something else
the day that Lincoln died
and Judas killed with cowardice,
the law was on his side.
Remember no one carried guns
the day that Jesus died,
so get on your high horse and ride
Track Name: Conchsuckers

I tumbled out of my hammock this morning
and I stumbled through the high grass
and as I peered in through my own back window
I caught a brief glimpse of my past.
You jumped up off me
and spilled all your coffee
and the man that was me upped and fled.
It kinda upset me,
my appetite left me
so I came on back out to my shed.

I thought about all of our years together,
all the things we never have done.
Oh how I wish we could trade all the misery
for the times we had so much fun.
I guess that it's over.
I'm back to the rover
you once hauled in from the beach.
I give you my blessin'
and thanks for the lessons
you were always so ready to teach.

Conchsuckers is where you will always live
in my mind and my memories.
Conchsuckers was always our secret place,
a ramshackle dive in the Keys.
I'm leaving you everything I have
to give, like I always do.
I hope he's eager to learn
conchsucking too.

Conchsuckers is where you will always live
in my heart and my memories.
Conchsuckers is everyone's secret place,
a ramshackle dive in the Keys.
I took out the garbage and did all the household chores
that you had asked me to do.
I mowed your lawn, I did all your laundry,
and even some of his too.
I wish you the both the very best
and the child you'll be giving birth to.
I hope he's ready to learn
conchsucking too.
Track Name: Shall There be Dinosaurs to Saddle Up Yonder?
Shall There Be Dinosaurs to Saddle Up Yonder?

Shall there be dinosaurs to saddle up yonder?
Shall there be cryptozoic fossils on high?
Shall there be prehistoric cattle up yonder?
Shall there be angels to show the reasons why?

Shall there be donuts and ice cream up yonder,
or will there be any snack foods to buy?
Shall there be no more hunger up yonder?
Will there be no more new goodies to try?

Shall there be entertainment up yonder?
Will there be any new fall shows to try?
Shall there be any point in being up yonder,
or shall we wish we were back here and high?

Shall there be aliens to battle up yonder,
and will they mutilate the cattle on high?
Shall there be robots to serve us up yonder,
and will there be extra batteries to buy?

Shall there be pedophilic bishops up yonder?
Will there be back-slapping shysters on high?
Shall there be telegenic morons up yonder,
and will there be lots of cheap shit to buy?

Shall there be dinosaurs to saddle up yonder?
Shall there be cryptozoic fossils on high?
Shall there be prehistoric cattle up yonder?
Shall there be aliens to show the reasons why?
Track Name: Uneasy Pickin's
Uneasy Pickin's

Well I thought it's time I hit the road
and ride up through the hills
I've had enough of punchin' clocks
in service to my bills.
I love this old flea market--
it looks like you do, too.
I like to find old fishing stuff,
so buddy, how 'bout you?

Well I tell you, Doyce, I ain't picky,
I just like to look at junk
like this little plastic kitchen set
and that old wooden trunk.
I need to find a cooler
for the truck for stashing beers,
and some kind of kitchen curtains
or some pretty, lacy sheers.

Well I hear you, son, I understand
the range of all these things
a single man's trailer needs,
like these gold nugget rings,
or how about that ol' totem pole
or this old wooden boat?
'Cause they've got damn near anything,
as much as you can tote.

Chorus (Doyce & stranger):
'Cause we're just two junk-huntin' men
who like to shop outside.
Though some might call it goofing off,
there's just us to decide.
We're just antiquing buddies
on the road towards the past:
two old bullshittin' geezers,
and this world can kiss our ass.

Well I like collecting china
and these precious little pigs,
but I had to get these stiletto heels
and this big ol' bag of wigs.
Now I'm sorta getting hungry
for a foot-long in a bun
'cause of all of what I dreamed last night,
and having so much fun...

Well I...
Well I appreciate your company, boy,
but I believe I'd better run.
I forgot I told old what's-his-name
I'd examine his ol' gun.
I apologize for running off,
but I think I'm out of cash
and my truck's back over yonder
so I got to load my stash.

Chorus (Doyce & stranger):
'Cause we're just two junk-hunting men
who like to get outside.
Though some might call it fuckin' off,
we'll take it all in stride.
We're just antiquing buddies:
ain't nothing more than this.
Two old bullshitting geezers
(who stand up when they piss.)
Two strangers in a pasture and
(no sir, that was his...)
Two understanding, manly men
and that's just the way it is.
Track Name: Skeet Giaclepousse (Your Mother's Bush)
Skeet Giaclepousse (Your Mother's Bush)

Now I'll sing you the legend of Skeet Giaclepousse
who abides in the wilderness of great northern woods
and he lives in a cabin he built with his hands
and he tenders his food from the land.
And an end to his free-roaming days came to pass
when he found himself captive to one native lass
who had scouted the portents which led her to him,
Skeet Giaclepousse and his faithful wife Quim.

In the late winter's gloom he said, “Quim I must go,
to the aid of my friend far away from this snow
who has too many trees where he lives in the South,
which endanger his double-wide house.”
And she gave him a phone, saying, “Be with me still.”
He said, “Quim if I find me a signal, I will,
though the passage be hard and the absence be long,
I will call you and sing you this song...”

I remember its fragrance like roses in bloom
and the way that it glowed in the full of the moon,
and as sure as my name is ol' Skeet Giaclepousse,
I can still smell your old mother's bush.
You're as good of a woman as ever there was
and as dutiful a daughter as ever there does,
you're as lovely as anyone's mother could will,
or the bush where her ashes lie still...

dah de dah dede dah de dah dede dah...etc.
Track Name: I'm So Goddamn Sorry I Could Cry
I'm So Goddamn Sorry I Could Cry

Might it be to my persistence
you attribute, my dear,
this predictable consistence
through the years?
Can it be but a sorrow
for a life too well lived
to afford us a tomorrow
with only joy to give?

I'm sorry for the silences
that speak tranquility,
I'm sorry I have only love for you.
I can only be content at home
with no iniquity
to weigh us down the way those others do.
I'm sorry I have no regrets
to lie or drink about.
I cannot bring myself to bring you shame.
Perhaps the growing up too fast
just burned away our doubts--
perhaps we only have
ourselves to blame.

In a life held back by common sense
there's only regret
for the foolish choices
we could never make.
I can only ask forgiveness
for this lack of dark debt
which keeps us bound together,
and only death may break.

I'm sorry for the lack of tears
most wives prefer to cry.
I'm sorry I have only love for you.
I'm sorry I have never done
those things men love to try,
and drag you down the way most others do.
I hate my faults aren't deep enough
for you to grieve about.
I cannot bring myself to bring you pain.
Perhaps this growing up too well
just stripped away our doubts--
perhaps we only have ourselves to blame.
Track Name: Live Free Or Die
Live Free or Die

With the eagle's eye I saw you coming,
arrayed in black, without a name.
From far away I hear you gunning
your oppressor's will.
Have you no shame?

The day has come when you have chosen
to steal your neighbor's liberties.
But there's no fear where hell has frozen
and there's no law apart from these.

Were you left or right, were you pro- or anti- ?
Were you unconcerned when reason failed?
Well you know my God's a vigilante
where a higher cause than yours prevails.

For a dollar bill you turned assassin,
for a dollar more that flag you wave,
but a moment's thought is all I'm asking...
you can be a man, or be a slave.

In tomorrow's sky it matters little--
two fewer shadows in the light.
Live free or die, there is no middle.
It's the very choice for which I fight.

You can turn your fate, you can turn your barrel.
You can turn around and face the truth.
The gap is wide; the path is narrow,
but one more step you shall not move.

Tell your men and tell your women:
spread this message far and wide--
you need to mind your own damned business
or tell your children why you died.

Now go and tell the ones who sent you--
the occupation's long since dead.
Our message in genteel dissension's
'a tyrant's blood runs quick and red.'