Sleestak, Skeksi, Tellarites
Morloks eating trilobites
Wormhole, portal, dimensional rift
Klaatu barada, catch my drift?
Ghostly creatures of living gas
this planet is forbidden; none shall pass!
Atlantis, Lemuria, the land of Mu
Autotrepanation is bad juju
Frozen in time and lost in space
in a vinyl playset with a carrying case
Shoggoths quiver, phantoms creep
androids dream of electric sheep
It can happen here! Watch the skies!
Search a thousand years for the girl with green eyes
’cause when the worlds collide and Mars attacks?
It’s just a show, so just relax.

-The Gneech

(To the tune of “16 Tons” by Tennessee Ernie Ford…)

You blow 16 tons of junk out your nose
try to do it discreetly where it doesn’t show
You blow 16 tons, and what happens then?
You get out another tissue and do it again

Sinusitis is a crap malady
you have it every day but get no sympathy
You blow 16 tons out your nose every day
but it ain’t good for nothing, so you throw it away

You blow 16 tons of junk out your nose
try to do it discreetly where it doesn’t show
You blow 16 tons, and what happens then?
You get out another tissue and do it again

If boogers were gold I’d be a rich man
instead crusty dragons fill my garbage can
If I had stock in Kleenex I could pay my own way
‘cos I use at least twelve boxes every day

You blow 16 tons of junk out your nose
try to do it discreetly where it doesn’t show
You blow 16 tons, and what happens then?
You get out another tissue and do it again

Blowing out 16 tons, you’d think I’d lose weight
The Sinusitis Diet man, sure would be great!
When doomsday arrives, I’ll know how it goes:
I’m going to blow the whole world right out through my nose

You blow 16 tons of junk out your nose
try to do it discreetly where it doesn’t show
You blow 16 tons, and what happens then?
You get out another tissue…
…and you do it again!

-The Gneech

I declare!
There’s something in my chair!
It’s giving me a scare
and I wish it wasn’t there.
Usually it’s rare
to see anything but air
in my seat below the stair
and its cushion with a tear.
I don’t suspect that it will share
and perhaps I should beware;
I could touch it if I dare
and its soul would be laid bare
but it’s giving me a glare
which I just don’t think is fair.
I should really grow a pair
and remove it from my lair.
Or to extract it from my hair
maybe I should ask the mayor?
But I think she just won’t care
about the something in my chair.

-The Gneech

(to a country-western twang)

I want to write a story, I want to write a tale
I want to see it published and get checks in the mail
I wanna be the hottest thing that you have ever seen
but all that I am doing, is staring at the screen!

I’ve got a case of writer’s block, as you can plainly see
I had it something awful now, since 2000-and-3!
I’ve got character and setting, but I haven’t got a shot
’cause all these things are useless if I haven’t got a plot

Nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
Nothing happens in my tale

Nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
My story is a fail

Perhaps I try a bit too hard, perhaps I should relax
perhaps I oughta just write down a tale based on the facts
Just give your guy a problem, the writing coaches say
then figure out how his quirks will help him save the day

But nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
Nothing happens in my tale

Nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
My story is a fail

It’s causing me some anguish, my lame attempts at art
you can’t ever finish, what you never start
But your muse will never flourish, when threatened by a gun
so I’m gonna write a filk about it, and then call it done

’cause nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
Nothing happens in my tale

Nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
My story is a fail!

-The Gneech

(to the tune of ‘Holly Jolly Christmas’)

Have an introverted Christmas
with a small group of your friends
And then sigh with deep relief
when it finally ends

Have an introverted Christmas
but don’t make too much fuss
We won’t force you to put on smiles
there’s no-one here but us

Ho, ho, the mistletoe
Hung where you can see
and know how far to stay away
hangin’ out by the tree

Have an introverted Christmas
the phone is off the hook
Tell the folks I said hello
and then went back to my book.

-The Gneech

You’re a hoser, Mister Grinch
you’re a total spazoid dork
you’re just completely bogus
and your parentage is borked, Mister Grinch
You’re a salmonella salad made with…
under-cooked pork!

You’re overly sensitive, Mister Grinch
constructive criticism makes you mad
You take it all so personal
it’s really rather sad, Mister Grinch
You just keep looking at me like…
I’m being some kind of cad!

You’re the anti-Christ, Mister Grinch
you’re the harbinger of End Times
and they’re digging a new hell now
just to cover all your crimes, Mister Grinch
You’re a shambling blob of tentacles and eyes…
oozing in acidic slime!

-The Gneech