Live at Ken's Steak House

by Proprietary Pty.

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The aforementioned artist takes a journey into the world's worst steak house, where steak is poorly cooked, onion rolls are churned out like butter, and where the famous salad dressing is made. Within these boundaries, he makes an album that has no connection to the restaurant. And isn't live.


In all seriousness, this is probably the first time the artist has actually done something resembling progressive rock. He really hopes it's worth your time. And his.

Press quotes are in:

"8/10, would listen to again" - Katamari101
"what the fuck is this, this isn't good" - WESH Teen Andrew
"The fact that so many books still name the Beatles "the greatest or most significant or most influential" rock band ever only tells you how far rock music still is from becoming a serious art. " - Piero Scaruffi


released June 6, 2013

Shane Smith - vocals, bass, guitar, production

Recorded May 19th-June 1st, 2013 at my home studio in Covington.



all rights reserved


Proprietary Pty. Dahlonega, Georgia

The folk and noise project of a Dahlonega native, also known by this unfortunate moniker.

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Track Name: Sometimes, the Parrot is My Only Friend
This isn’t what I was expecting
Again at each other’s’ throats
Right when I should be hearing
Mannheim Steamroller songs

Just tell me what to say,
So I won’t drive my folks away
What do I do, what do I do?
Please don’t let this suck

Shut the fuck up, everybody
Let me get my rest
Oh please
Oh please

This isn’t what I wanted from life
To be entangled in all of this
Up at each other’s throats
Just when the calm could be clear

I don’t want to start this again
But seriously just please let go
And don’t tell me you’re sorry
You’ll do it again

This stigma is what I want to get rid
This stigma is keeping me down

Will you ever shut up
Will you ever make up
Will you ever achieve peace
Before I die
Track Name: Commercial Break
I don’t feel it when Mr. Kite makes a horse dance
Did John Lennon trip on acid? Hell yeah!
Too much squash is not an acquired tase
Oh, Styx! Melt that ice cube!

Is he in other projects than NWA?
NWA is a Grammy winner!
Please save us from “Are We Done Yet?”
You blew your education man; now you will die!

Endangered species taste so good, but we don’t like it!
On the commercial break, you’ll be no hyper!
Run away to the lighthouse and drink some acid!
Man, that’s one good energy drink!

The rappers love to sample Styx and they yell “No!”
“Kilroy Was Here” is one stupid album!
My girlfriend cut that coke!
It tastes like sugar – it is sugar!

I’m all outta ideas.

So you think you can dance? Then what about THIS?!
Track Name: Brought to You in Living Color
I think there’s a problem
Can’t seem to pinpoint it
Could be coming from this house
The peacock molts on TV
Darling, can’t you see it
It dies and becomes the network ID
Brought to you in living color
Fuck you, the color’s long gone
Talk about defeating the purpose.

I think it was a pleasure
Not to see young Darren on TV
Because of the shitstorm
Surrounding his fandom

Darling, turn off the TV
The peacock represents all malevolence
Wants to fatten the audience
With Swanson TV dinners
And TV shows based off on movies
Try to adapt Dom Cobb for your cable
The Fab Four killed all the color
Motherfuckers took over the station
Made them prouder than the kids on the Imus Ranch

They made a new variety show
Jeff Altman and some hot ladies
Can’t speak a damn word of English
Chicago lost their heroes
One by gun and one by ego
With Woof Dachshund on TV
CBS is still on TV
They haven’t got a new hit
Since Freddie Prinze ate the gun
Tartikoff on the TV
Making it enjoyable and “artistic”
Fred fucked up, Brandon saved the day
Track Name: Ten Million Soulless Pop Songs
Look at me, this quivering mess
Do you salvage me?
Do I fade out like a fake out on a Beatles song?
So purposeless, another day to go…

Fingertips fly from the sky.
A screaming rumble composed the chaos.
And the sun comes up at Christmastime, but
I’m still a mess, cut in half.

You’re like the sun that shines in my heart.
Your torch will stay even when it’s dark.
Stop putting yourself down.
La da da da…

Do you look at my face?
Can you sympathize to a freak like me?
I’m not much of a talker, not much of a lover.
Do you cringe at my happiness?

You want me to be like Owl City,
With his ultra-sweet reality.
Well, I can’t go there – where’s the pain?
In all the fireflies, fireflies.

Why do you want me to fake a joyful gaze in my deepest low?
It’s not genuine – I feel like I’m lying to all the dudes looking up at me.

Should I sing about galloping unicorns drinking from the turquoise streams even as the world folds like a MAD back cover gag – from the great harmony into a cacophony?
Track Name: Highton View Terrace
On Mink Livsey, there’s some lovely apartment building with damages towards it on the balcony. There’s charred places and people still live there, wondering why it happened in the first place or why they were connected to their adventures to it. Some couples make out within former housing or some run pirate radio stations.

And if I don’t see if the weekend at the college is crap/weird,
You know that I’ll be long gone into that big house!
I’m dealing with stuff at Highton View Terrace that you dismiss,
As being very small and really insignificant.

Our two real remotely friends, the ever-lovable Hikari and Takreu, decided to dress for the heat as it was sweltering a 100-degrees Fahrenheit in Tokyo. Takeru put on a t-shirt, blue jeans, and his white shoes while his girlfriend donned a green dress and tight jeans. They walked down the street and saw an empty building in Highton View Terrace where radio equipment was placed. They got in and decided to turn on the equipment, really for a rock station in Atlanta. Forgive me, this song is, like, old.
Track Name: Misako and the Angel
When I first met you in 2003,
I didn’t know how you would alienate me.
You were just another artist on the Internet
To realize my visions that were stuck in my head.

As the hands went right, I grew to you more.
You let me lodge when the con came forth,
But then again, a few minutes ago,
The glass went Memorex and I let you go.

So you cried in the building, awakening the other attendees,
And you claimed you found grace, but you will never recover me.

Two days ago, you were just a simple seller,
Tearing pages from the pad you had; well,
You have your smile to the patrons.
I thought you were something special.

But then I took my nap,
And I heard a noise from the back
And I saw you, my shoes in your hand,
Whispering repetition – you were afraid.

I’m sorry Rose, I’m sorry Rose, I’m so sorry Rose.
It’ll never happen again.

I thought I was doing the right thing.
I thought I was in a safe place,
Until you showed me my deeds.
You deserve to shun me.

But I found newfound joy.
I found His blood in the hall.
I found the thing that will keep us glued together furthermore.

So why am I now a pariah?
Why am I the Jesus of the Internet?
I don’t know if I can stay anymore.
I can’t accept the past.

Oh, don’t you start with that shit
Even if you did rediscover your god,
You still abused my presence.
You don’t deserve my forgiveness.

I want you to stay away from me
I want you to shut your mouth,
So please leave me alone FOR GOOD.

That’s okay if you want me gone forever
Because Jesus will change your mind in the end
And when you put that joint in the trash
You’ll run back to me.
We’ll be good folks in the middle of the desert
And you’ll be happy that you never left me
And well, let’s say Jesus does great things
With something as pathetic as me.

You’re not an exactly beautiful bronzed Adonis.
You’re probably a lonely man who sits at home
Living off of others’ urges to fuck
Staring into the void of your TV screen.

You never seemed to improve yourself
In the seven years that we were friends
So when you told me you still lived at home
I cried a little inside.

But maybe that’s my Divine destiny
Is something that would lead me to bigger things
Making the world a better place for you and me
All to the perfect plan of the Creator’s will
Soon, all will be like children of this world
No one would want to tolerate the sinners anymore
And I can place my colorful pictures
upon the refrigerator buildings.

You stop it right there
You’re letting your dreams get the best of you
Have you seriously questioned your own faith?
Have you thought of other possibilities?

You know I saw you in the midst of heat
And you were so happy that you were that way
Why were you so driven?
Why did you go that low?

I don’t want to hear anymore fucking excuses
I don’t want you to say that you’re sorry
You were born an asshole
And you’ll die like me in Hell.

I’m sorry Rose
I’m sorry Rose
Please let me into your life
Please don’t abandon me

I thought I did the right thing
I abandoned my shameful past
I starting over a new page
In the notebook of my life

But you don’t understand
I never felt so clean in all my life
I feel that I can forgive myself
Or at least I did once

And now the dream’s gone
Time to stare into the charcoal tickles
But they’re all gone
I got rid of them

And now I crumble into the floor
Shut my eyes
Think of another time
Before my dream fell apart.
Track Name: Pit of Blood
Driving on the highway
Streetlights in my eyes
Cup of coffee slightly tilting
I have to do this alone
The kids will soon be dead
If I don’t save them from this
Buster Poindexter has gone too far
Down the road again
He will make them bleed
He has no human mercy
Whatever is practical to his needs
He’ll do it gleefully

And I pull into the industrial park
Drenched in total dark
A couple of shots ring out

There he goes off
Into the sunset
Into the vacuum
His head explodes
A fit of fiery fury
In this pit of blood
I was reborn to protect those kids
New found respect for the family
Proper punishment, organization music

Driving on the highway
Tethered to the duty
Saved the family
So off I go
For this I wave goodbye
With ten broken fingers
On the road I lie down
Dead and somehow alive
This is a beautiful place
Where we reside and pass our history along
Decide which is beautiful and which is real

Field of horses, field of children
Raining pain from the sky, ALL MELTING.
Track Name: Rockville Records
I smoked a pack of Lucky Strikes
Even though I’m prone to cancer
My wife packed her things and left
Because she saw my infidelity last night.

My tractors full of excess from the humping.
It’s like a man who dresses like a fox.
It’s New Year’s and I’m wearing sandals in the show
Because I was born to be nothing.

I’ll put on my Rockville Records records
And follow my life to the Testament of Farrar
But somehow I think I missed the gist
My life seems like BNA

Dipping Copenhagen until my bile duct falls out
And riding on bulls called Fu Manchu
Skydove on the mountains – killed my dog
Had him with a bottle of bud

All these brooding teenagers stick to cliché and poor attempts at nerd’s slow metal. They should put on Kenny Chesney and have barbecues in their record store.
Track Name: Jack, Do You Know What Day It Is Tomorrow?
Met in front of Federal Hall
You looked like you came out
Of some Army meeting
And we saw the Chrysler Building
What did you say?
Something about an ape on Empire?
I didn’t agree with your initially
But soon I did

But it just a set-up
So I could get your emotions in this.
Kept on denying it -
The old man said you had to accept it.
So what if they drugged
To see like a Little Sister?
That doesn’t concern me at all
And it should make you lie to yourself.

Back at your place, day after day,
The love grew stronger between us
Each successive moment, I’d take you
Away from your Jim Beam and in the bed
And now I’m with child
And I’m part of you
As you hallucinate a false vision
Of what I could be
Track Name: Passion Song #1
So, I was sprawled on my bed, looking through a book I found in my dresser drawer. Somebody’s clipped out what appeared to be half of the novel, save for a few wise words…and how they boldly spoke promises and impracticality, but I was in my nadir.

And on my face I went just to see him in my mind. And I slit my throat, suddenly hearing a new voice – he wasn’t all Geddy Lee, but more like Steve Taylor. Sign me up for the mailing list.

Before the inevitable change, I was so down on myself that I had to find a way out. Reliant on magazine subscriptions, I felt like my energy went away. And there I was that night in nothing on my bed and I finally got my glimpse. His words of wisdom, his act at the end – how can I pass on this new thing?

Am I obligated to take my words down a notch, fit into the crowd, and make songs fit praise, or can I drive in another direction – head on down the beaten road and slip in a little “fuck” to widen the technique?

But he has his new chain turned my music into a waste – I can’t truly express things on my mind. “It has to do with God,” he says, “don’t let those fags in the game because we know they aren’t right…neither are the kikes?”
Track Name: Inexplicable Attack
Main Street
Heart pumping
Might die
From here on out
I’ll be the killer
Or the killed

Hole myself
My hotel room
Wait patiently
For that moment
To come
When it does
I’ll be ready

She tried
Tried so hard
To run away
With a broken
Inexplicable indeed

I escape
But I was found
And then I
Sat in my car
Gun to my head
Praying to God
That I’ll be safe

tried to
Calm me down
But I said no
It had to be
my destiny
Closer to my heard

Tried to
Calm me down
But I said no
It had to be
My destiny
Pulled the hammer
Closed my eyes
Closed my eyes

Got what she deserved
Track Name: Song of Christian
I hear America singing, as I sing of myself,
And you experience, as I experience.
The problems of yourself are my problems.
The youth and the young singing cries of happiness,
As you have sung the song of laughter.
At age six weeks, I sang this song of laughter
Then, at one and a half years of age, the Lord put the mute button on me.
Those are my parents' song. They pulled me through to talk again, at age seven.
I am now sixteen years old and good at talking enough to help me achieve...
New goals and Mario raceway records, and to finish my homemade Nintendo Power magazine.
The magazine's songs, the ballad of Sonic the Hedgehog on Game Boy.
The rudeness of the teenager's song,
The despicable mention of rude words and...D-R-U-G-S.
I am not afraid to speak, despite the hazardous flukes in America's song.
My song that I sing, although I talk well,
My peer relationship is low, and my loneliness is off the scale.
Track Name: I'm Crying Maria
Back of my mind
I remember you
Warm glow in your eyes
Lips wording sweet surprise
But why did he have to di it
Sell me out to his benefit
In my pod I try to stay still
But I’m crying, Maria

Caught a glimpse of a horse
Without its owner to guide it through
Flying through these stars
In the eternal night lit up somewhat
But why is the horse alone?
Why isn’t its owner alive anymore?
What’s the point of sacrifice it all it does
Is make you cry, Maria?

Give me everything I need, oh no.

Front and center stage
Some sort of turned over canvas
Backing with my life
Printed like Mangum’s odd confessions
In this pod I fester
Falling apart like some dork
I try to keep calm
But my eyes cry blood for Maria

Insert lyric about reference here
Maybe I’ll do something funny
I guess genocide is funny
I guess genocide is
George sold me out cause he blows
And I’m running out of words to say
I’m crying
I cry, I cry like Maria does

Give me everything I need, oh fuck.

Can’t you see, Maria?
Can’t you see?
I’m falling apart – teenage symphony shambles!
I’m crying until I can’t breathe,
And even that I cry into God.
All he does is bring out the pain!
Now it’s time to sleep forever.
Track Name: Live at Ken's Steak House
Part 1: “Deadlines Are Looming”

Who grew the Kentucky bluegrass in the front yard,
Where the trees shade the 4pm sunlight in summer?
The neighborhood is lazy on this day, or students are,
Filling deadlines while their fathers look over them.

The city’s in the distance while the charter bus
Runs through the suburb, being the only noise and/or disturbance
Except for a girl and her band – a boy on lead vox and guitar
And they’re all hidden on their zoion, their yearly reminder.

Deadlines are looming throughout the city.
It’ll be one more day until they all go to another world,
Far away from the corrupt Earth with flaming skeletons.

They don’t support that their semi-pastoral life is to end
When the developing Gestapo barge to make an unruly strip mall
Anchored by a Wal-Mart and a Utopian
With fast-food restaurants smashed into their homes.

Yet, they sing about the dangers and turmoils of
Urban construction, with promises that it’ll end up just like
Some mall in Chicago. How can suburban idyllicness survive?
The girl’s band reminds us all of our fate.

Yet as they pack up their instruments to go to a party which is down the block next to Vernon’s old house they’re in suspension of belief in their lyrics the words they prophesize and meanwhile at the lead’s house his family unlike him and his hand have a party they don’t expect the door to come down and the shaven men to order them to transport

The band sees the neighborhood plowed down
Instead of having a reclamation of objects
The soldiers tell them to go
The leader sees other transports there

“The car is unhealthy,” shouts someone dying
The solder removes his bayonet from the man’s heard
Leaving his body to char in plumbic smoke and fallout.
The leader watches his brother’s teeth rot from the safety of the transport.

Part 2: “The Deal”

What is this scary urbanite place?
I have heard people call this a concrete jungle.
I’m more used to the suburbs and their serenity
Where minors’ sons kill inventively under alter egos.

There’s this man on the corner in a blue collared shirt.
He’s standing up on the corner hawking a strange spatula.
It’s metal and divided into five compartments full of ground chuck.
He announces its name as what I expected to hear.

I went to the counter and got out my Citibank card
So I could satisfy what this man was selling.
He handed me his item of interest
And to my surprise, it actually worked.

As I walked away with my new item of interest
More and more people ran to the prophet’s counter.
He could stop the destruction of the suburbs with his silvery tongue
So I walked back to him, fighting the fanatics.

I stand next to my friend in his blue-collar Lacoste shirt
Watching the prophet hawk more and more items to potential buyers
He brought out six or eight tubes of some magical green substance, stretched his hand
And said to me, “Carl, come in. I want to make a proposal.”

What do you want?
When do you want it?
How can we get it?
How do we fight it?

Why do I have all of these TV items?
Why do I have all of these trinkets?
Why do I feel like I’m de-evolving into lesser?
Why do I feel like I’m not so smart?

Maybe it’s the government that’s doing this!
Maybe it’s my mind in this world! Maybe! Just maybe! I can get this out of my head!

Part 3: “Griots and Street Performances”

I remember a story my mother told me
I remember a story a stranger told me
While I was in my bed
While I was at a Shoney’s

It started in a jungle long ago
It started at a Shoney’s I ate
With a hunter killing monkeys and tigers
With a cook undercooking the Big Boy Burger

What is with these unrelated stories from griots and street performances?

The hunter was spared by the Mormon tribe
The chef came to my with a butcher knife
And he bathed in their cooking pot
And he cut off my shoe laces

As the tribe added in the A1 steak sauces
As I ran away into Gatlinburg
He felt a bit more sleepier
My shoes felt loose so I took them off

The hunter shot a Saturday’s warrior
I ran into a Rhythm Section music store
And dumped his carcass into the pot
And went on my knees at the sight of Alice

Saturday’s warrior!

After the pot was up to a boil
After Alice shifted away
The hunter had a bite of primate pork
I chased her through the mall

He developed instantaneous cannibal thoughts
Alice was tired so she hid in a store front
And he saw a girl in the back room
And I saw a stranger approach the girl

The Hunter took her off
I saw the stranger prep her for torture
And spread a feather all across her
And was turned on by her lovely movement

The Hunter’s mind was blank; he saw a light
I shot the stranger with harpoon
And the girl ran from her suitor, happy
I chased her to the phone booth!
Track Name: Ten Thousand Promises
Part 1: “Call to Arms”

I’ve been locked inside
Can’t jury rig my way out of here
My only friends the mop and Pine-Sol
But all your promises still hold
Too much unrequited love
How will I get out of this place?

I can sense something foul
Brief flashes of futures to come
Block my unintended qi of the door
I need to get out quickly
Warn my best friend who’ll most likely
Consider it more Xbox hearsay

All of those hours waiting to be free
And I still play GoldenEye ‘til 5 am
Of course I have to go to school
Maybe I don’t – maybe I do
All I know is that I need
To tell my friend that she won’t be
Living for too much longer
Unless if she gets this “orb of wisdom”

But the minutes pass and I’m afraid to speak
Since the prophecy is too crazy to be believed
What should I do? The world’s up to me!
Just let it be preserved…

Ever since I moved to Norway in another timeline
I’ve been able to perceive the things
No one else can see – metaphysical green
And I’m forever haunted by the images of war and blood
So I ask my friend about these daily occurrences
And she validates my hopes by noting that some
Archaeologist named Henry Jones
Called her up to find this “orb of wisdom”

Most of my fears were alleviated
Though I still had the nightmares
And they gave me headaches
That Tylenol took the pain away
Of course, I was stupid to get hooked
Because I had to leave those pills at home
And that fateful 4 am waking up
And I walked away from middle-class America

Standing at the bus stop per orders
Waiting for a bus to come out of the fog
I turned to my friend and she said
That she didn’t know what was going on
Or what she was fighting for
Or why the visions came to me and not her

Part 2: “Flight”

And out the fog came the bus
Like one of the ancient Frisco cars
Emblazed with the number 1979-A
On its rusting-intact side
And we climbed aboard, suitcase and all
And who should greet us but a dog-faced man
He had the bus in control to another land
Looked at us like we were mad

But he was integral
The ferryman from one world to the next
Or rather to plane that would take us
To the central hub of things

I asked my friend if the attack began
And she said no as the airport come into view
Appeared in the middle of an empty field
And the homes we lived in faded out of view
But we both kept the surprise low
Since we didn’t want to cause too much
And off we boarded

Walked into the empty airport
Down the corridor to terminal B
A metallic prop plane on the runway

Up the air is where I feel so safe
Up in the air is where ten thousand promises come true
Up in the air, Kim can finally prove her worth
Up in the air, where my worries melt away
Up in the air, Studebaker’s phone booth flies
Up in the air, the tear fades in from the sky
Up in the air and off we go into the limbo
Up in the air, there’s no air, so where do we go

When they say major turbulence they mean it
Falling down, down, down to my doom
Go play Aoxomoxoa once before I die
Turbulence turbulence turbu we’re done
And we land

Part 3: “Ride”

The hub, the central hub, all the universes collide
Me and Niko Bellic in the back of Latka’s taxi
Or maybe it’s some Arabic guy – I don’t know. I don’t watch Taxi.
But the orb – I gotta get the orb and I just realized

That I’m in a taxi with these video games and
I don’t know why this happening
The excitement of my ecstasy
And my eventual love

Down the highway, down the road
The rips all over the land
Familiar faces all around

Down the road, mansion on the distance
Down the road…tell me what’s on your mind
Down the road, relapse hitting me so bad
Down the road, down the road.

Drift into the nightmare which I can’t let go
Grandma just passed on the pain
Look at myself in the mirror
Pills in my chapped hand
Take the pain away medicine
Let me feel alive again
And I’m on cloud nine
Feeling alive – Listerine breath

But Kim doesn’t like it
Never cared for me at all
Only about that Josh kid in her eye
And she goes

Down the highway, off the road
In front of Jones’ mansion
His face reminds me of someone
His face looks too iconic

Part 4: “Here He Goes, Mr. Jones”

There he goes, Mr. Jones
Got into his fedora
Kim asked why he needed our help
He said the prophecy said so

Once in ancient Colorado days
Some mages made an orb
That had the power to preserve
But someone stole it

Now it’s time to retrieve it
Save the day forever
But who should do such a thing
Because prophecy is so obtuse and weird

There he goes, Mr. Jones
Down the beaten path
To the place where the orb was placed
And told us to think of a plan

But we just winged it
Just grabbed the orb
But a boulder came down and
Crushed poor Kim’s toe

Now it’s time to save her
As far as I know, I’m done
But who would outline such an easy
Escape and an easy solution

There he goes, Mr. Jones
Bandaging her foot
And the mansion we stayed at
And where she kissed me

She and I went into embrace
But the fireplace
And there shoes
Singing her passioned song

Now it’s time to dream
Dream of the relapse and its effects
I’ve been locked inside this janitor’s closet
For God knows how long

Part 5: “Call to Arms (reprise)”

I woke up the next morning
Didn’t jury rig my way out of here
No prophecy in my head
Somebody get me out of this janitor’s closet!