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The Disappearing Architect

by Empty City Squares

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1.

I remember riding up to the 26th floor…
 Million dollar views and really, really bad décor And the people below looked like small little ants, 
 You looked down-and proclaimed, you were king-of-this-town 
 As did your sycophants So Hail to the Cheeto
 You were just another brand,
 You were just another brand So Hail to the Cheeto
 You were just another brand,
 You were just another brand, As I tried to explain the nice shiny design
 When your eyes locked with mine, you said, “I want a bigger sign” With nothing left to discuss, we presented the bill, 
then you shrugged, and asked if we were on drugs, 
and told us “if you dress, you better dress to kill”
 So Hail to the Cheeto 
You were just another brand,
 You were just another brand, So Hail to the Cheeto
 You were just another brand,
 You were just another brand, You built foundations That were made of sand
 But there was one thing you could understand 

The disenfranchised and disqualified
, were never really taken for a ride A message for a short attention span
 And all presented by a business man.
 Oh man.
 Oh Man. So Hail to the Cheeto
 You were just another brand,
 You were just another brand, So Hail to the Cheeto
 You were just another brand,
 You were just another brand, I caught your face when I turned on my bedroom TV 
 A talking head was looking distressed, saying you would not concede And I was laughing when they cut to you calling them “thieves” 
 because I know, that you will never let go
 and there's nobody left, nobody left to believe So Hail to the Cheeto
You were just another brand,
 You were just another brand, So Hail to the Cheeto
You were just another brand,
 You were just another brand,
2.
So Bourgeois 04:32
V1 He was stuck in an overheated, packed commuter, train, when he thought he heard someone call out, he thought he heard his name.
 
Looking into a crowd of faces, filling up the space, 
while the guy to his right, was staring, at his phone, while trying to whisper, to a girl who was clutching a suitcase. CHORUS And we are so bourgeois, but we all think we’re stars.
 We want to have much more, than what life’s got in store, dear me, we are the bourgeoisie.
 V2 He was down on his luck and frankly, he was quite depressed. Then a guy at the gym had told him about his hypnotherapist
. Thumbing through an old magazine inside a waiting room, 
and he couldn’t help overhearing, someone say, in muffled tones, 
“imagine you’re crawling right back into the womb”

. CHORUS 
And we are so bourgeois, but we all think we’re stars. We want to have much more, than what life’s got in store, dear me, we are the bourgeoisie
. 
BRIDGE 
And some of us make it, and some of us fake it, But most of us wouldn’t know where to be begin 
But personally I don’t think it’s a sin, to want to reach up, instead of throw up
, as the new day, as the new day breaks in.
 V3 
If you peak through the artifice, try not to get confused. it’s always better to leave the cave, than stay and be abused. 
 You may not be the type who thinks they need to see real light
 
But unless you can break the cycle, of delusion, and try and climb out, I’m afraid you’ll lose more than your eyesight CHORUS 
And we are so bourgeois, but we all think, we’re stars. 
We want to have much more, than what life’s got in store, dear me, we are the bourgeoisie

. Dear me, we are the bourgeoisie

. Dear me.
3.
V1 
He wore a cross on a chain, on his chest, the size of his Zippo lighter. I saw it glinting, all covered in sweat, as he was talking and drinking, ouzo and coffee. V2 
And I had met him just a few days before, in a taxi out of the airport. 
I saw him sitting when I opened the door, when the 
driver said “the captain always rides with me, and his belly rides for free…” CHORUS Captain Taso’s Belly, Captain Taso’s Belly! It was legendary, Captain Taso’s Belly
. V3 
He spoke of things he had seen and had learned, and how he hated ground so solid. 
 And always nauseous upon his return, his 
breath and his insight, left us, almost blinded. V4 
It was as if he had swallowed a globe, and a world was deep in side-him. He even told me that during some war, he once cheated death
, by shooting in all directions, and casually crawling away. 
 CHORUS Captain Taso’s Belly, Captain Taso’s Belly! 
It was legendary, Captain Taso’s Belly
. BRIDGE And in this age of irony, and time of moral turpitude, 
the Captain turned and looked at me, declaring “we're so very screwed”
. And as he reached out for the ice, he poured a drink and changed his mood
. 
His eyes looked out on to the blue, and found a sea of solitude. SOLO CHORUS 
Captain Taso’s Belly, Captain Ta-so’s Belly! 
It was legendary, Captain Ta-so’s Belly
. 
Captain Taso’s Belly, Captain Ta-so’s Belly! 
It was legendary, Captain Ta-so’s Belly
.
4.
V1 Floating out on a silver sea, she
 started to yawn and drift away, and 
as if on cue, 
she would wake up need to be rescued. Walking across a windswept beach, his 
profit and losses occupied, that
 space in his brain
 that was always the home of his migraines

. REFRAIN I’m back in my chair, and I’m under my hat, 
I think to myself, "I’m all finished with that".
 And all of these scenes, have been played out before,
 
 the tragic, the comic, the mostly ignored. 

V2 I never was one to hesitate
 and maybe I’m done, I can’t be sure,
 but soon, very soon 
change will come like the phase of a new moon 
I’m so resolute it’s comical, and 
I’m not being cute when I declare, these 
opening lines
 of the story I’m writing, are all mine

. REFRAIN With my sunglasses on, as I work on my tan, 
The speakers are spitting old Steely Dan
. 
I look at the people, lined up on the shore,
 
the tragic, the comic, the mostly ignored
 BRIDGE And I'm so very bored…
 no, It isn’t hard to see
 
that I make bad company

 
And furthermore
, 
In my clever repartee
 
hides ingrained misanthropy. And there isn’t much that I would answer for
, 
No there isn’t much that I would answer for. 

SOLO

 REFRAIN 
I’m back at a job, and I stare at a screen, 
I’m telling myself it was all just a dream And all of these thoughts, I have thought of before
 
 the tragic, the comic, the mostly ignored
 CODA Floating out on a silver sea, she
 started to yawn and drift away, and 
as if on cue, 
she would wake up need to be rescued.
5.
The Comedian 04:11
V1 I had a way of veiling words they were afraid to hear. 
I never cared what others thought, I was quite cavalier
. 
I mocked their outrage, as I firmly got inside their heads
. 
And when they’d lash out, I’d roll over and play very dead. REFRAIN 
Yeah, I know you’ve heard the stories, 

and I know you’ve heard the rumors. There was no one who could ever match my vicious sense of humor…

 V2 
I used to crack jokes as I’d come across these pompous fools
. Nothing but nervous laughter followed on by ridicule
. Sometimes my comebacks worked just like a thousand little cuts
 They found the alcohol but they could never find their guts. REFRAIN
 
Yeah, I know you’ve heard the stories, and I know you’ve heard the rumors. 
There was no one who could ever match my vicious sense of humor. I know you’ve heard the stories, 
 and I know you’ve heard the rumors. 
But the one thing that I never lost was my goddam sense of humor. 
 BRIDGE
 And they called me, “the comedian”,
 and you all know what that implied, 
they were appalled and mortified

. No, I answered to no one,
and no one was surprised,
 That the best part of my jokes, 
occurred after the laughter died. SOLO V3 
I liked to make sport of, both low and high, society. 
I meted mockery with equal opportunity. 
And all my critics said that I took nothing seriously,
 Turns out my wit exposed a bit too much hypocrisy. REFRAIN
 
Yeah, I know you’ve heard the stories, and I know you’ve heard the rumors. 
There was no one who could ever match my vicious sense of humor…

 I know you’ve heard the stories, and I know you’ve heard the rumors. 
But the one thing that I never lost was my goddam sense of humor…


6.
V1
 She ran out of platitudes
 And so she lost my interest
 And so I changed my attitude 
devoted to indifferent V2
 She lifted me, and let me fall
 She failed me in her mission 
And so I finally say goodbye, goodbye to Miss Ambition

 REFRAIN And I’ll be sitting here, until I’m forced to sell my gear
 You never quite own anything, anyway
 You’re only a custodian
 Custodian

 V3/SOLO

 V4 
I must admit I feel relieved And somewhat disillusioned
 To think I could be so naïve
 With her foregone conclusion 
 REFRAIN And I’ll be sitting here, packing up my souvenirs 
You never quite own anything, anyway
 You’re only a custodian
 BRIDGE
 When I lost my sanity
 She gently whispered 
“All is vanity” Like a cobweb in a window frame
 try to sweep away the sense of shame what a shame 

V3 She lifted me, and let me fall
 She failed me in her mission
 And so I finally say goodbye, goodbye to Miss Ambition

 And so I finally say goodbye, goodbye to Miss Ambition
 And so I finally say goodbye, goodbye to Miss Ambition

7.
V1 I saw what they are from teh way they attack Declaring opinions all criminal acts

 The Wokes and the Jokes, they don't know I'm awake They don't want me to bend, they all want me to break REFRAIN And all of their grievances and all of their blame, does more than reveal why the feel so enraged Yeah I'm gonna take good old Ayn Rand’s advice Let them do what they want, cause I’m going on strike Yeah you do what you want, cause I’m going on strike V2 I saw the world change right in front of my eyes they have dumbed it all down, I can't say I'm surprised And all of their slogans were just subterfuge And their leaders did nothing but make you a stooge RFRAIN I understand now that my vote doesn't count If I say the wrong thing then my voice is drowned out So all of you heathens come on, let’s unite Let them do what they want, cause we’re going on strike Yeah we’re going on strike BRIDGE And I will enjoy grinding things to halt, And watch their confusion while I yell “I’m John Galt!” And I’ll relish the chaos, and panic, and fear 
As the hand that they’ve bitten, becomes Mutineer V3 SOLO V4
 They make accusations, and twist up my words
 But they'll never make me a part of their herd
 They'll have me arrested, and put me on trial But they don't have much time, so they''l have me exiled REFRAIN They've made it quite clear That I have no defense I am guilty as sin There's no need for pretense So all of you fools on the Left and the Right You can say what you want, cause I’m going on strike Yeah I'm going on strike Pour gas on the old world and set it alight Let them do what they want, cause I'm going on strike!
8.
V1
 
I remember you, from way back when
 
I remember you, from when before we were men

. 
We walked along the beach
, 
spoke of things just out of reach

. We never practiced what they preached

. But that was then

. V2
 And how the time has passed, before our eyes
. Oh how the time has passed, like some forgotten battle cry. When all the colors seemed, 
to shimmer in some vibrant dream
. We always had some scheme
. And now its passed us by

. BRIDGE
 
Smell of the sea air, the salt in our hair,
 we didn’t have a care, the light was everywhere. The hours and the days, lost in a summer haze
 how fast it slipped away, our summer holiday. V3
 And suns begin to set, I’ll see the afterglow.
 And suns begin to set, And we say, “everything flows”.
 There’s less ahead, and more behind, and some of it, time out of mind. It’s getting harder to define
. There’s no denying that we’ve grown. 
I remember you, from way back when.
9.
Parmenides 04:27
V1
 
I was in a room and bathed in candlelight
 
All alone, I thought, and lost my appetite 
Conversations I imagined pressed my luck


 
Revelations hit and left me thunderstruck REFRAIN
 What’s that I see?
 An Apogee
 
And its all in my head, 
Yes its all in my head
 He said whatever is, is
 
and what is not, can’t be So said Parmenides 
And So he said to me
 
So he said to me V2 
I thought back to the time when we were hairy fools, 
 swinging from the trees, but we were making tools As Eons passed, we needed a theology 
 Those gods we made reflected our psychology REFRAIN
 What’s that I see?
 An Apogee
 And its all in my head
 Yes its all in my head Out of nothing, nothing comes
 and what is not, can’t be
 So said Parmenides
 And So he said to me BRIDGE 
And while I never thought, that I was qualified
 

I never had the need for any type of guide The world we see is just perceived reality We are floating in a boundless, timeless sea 
 
I no longer have a fear of the unknown, 
Everything is one and so we’re not alone I think I see collisions but it’s poetry, 
 A still and moving natural cosmogeny

 REFRAIN
 What’s that I see?
 An Apogee
 And its all in my head
 Yes its all in my head Out of nothing, nothing comes
 and what is not, can’t be
 So said Parmenides
 And So he said to me
10.
V1 You can’t decide if you are coming or are going 
You’re breathing faster and yet everything is slowing 
 REFRAIN
 Yes you are sitting around
 and you are waiting for yet 
another shoe to fall Yes you are sitting around and 
you are waiting for yet another Shoe to fall away. Just like everyday…

 CHORUS
A 
To question everything 
and where it ends and begins
 to be both here, and be there
 
And neither circle or square

 
V2
 You’re not quite sure if what you’re thinking is believing 
and is it knowledge to know what you are perceiving? 
 REFRAIN
 Yes you are sitting around and you are waiting for yet 
another shoe to fall
 Yes you are sitting around and 
you are waiting for yet another 
 Shoe to fall away. Just like everyday CHORUS
 To question everything 
 and where it ends and begins
 to be both here, and be there 
And neither circle or square 

BRIDGE And its too strange outside 
you’d rather go, around and round in your mind
 Yes its too strange outside 
You'd rather go round and round Yes

 rather go round and round 
in you mind CHORUS 
To never start and be done
 to be both many and one
 to be both here, and be there
 and neither circle or square and neither circle or square
11.
VERSE 1 Man, what was he looking at? At first I thought, he might be made, of stone The light had gone out in the sky, and when he tried to speak, I heard him groan CHORUS And we were standing out in the street We saw the ashes fall to our feet And from a distance, we felt the heat The air was burning, and tasted bittersweet
 VERSE 2 It’s always hard to sleep at night, 
With phony rebels in some foreign land And even though I try to hide, The bastards helped me earn my pension plan CHORUS And I was running out in a street Dodging the Bullets, on hot concrete And I was nothing, a piece of meat Another number on some bureaucratic balance sheet BRIDGE When I was going down, 
right down to Chinatown Like all those other clown Who didn’t give a damn It’s now so plain to see 
not friends or enemies to them we’re all debris
 Just sacrificial lambs VERSE No, it wasn’t country, or beliefs, 

I finally learned who I was fighting for

 Names that always draw a blank dressed so well, and rotten to the core CHORUS And they are hiding, up in their suites They watch the chaos, from front row seats Risking a victory, hedging defeat The taste of conflict, is often bittersweet

12.
V1
 Like a sour note you barely hear, 
that’s in an otherwise, 
beautiful and perfect chord
 that’s lurking in disguise There’s that slightest trace of dissonance 
growing louder in your ears 
It betrays a bigger underlying 
noise that interferes CHORUS
 All the time, 
All the time
 Truth is a lie
 History rhymes And I don’t even care
 No I don’t agonize
 Truth is a lie 
History rhymes 

V2 
Yes I see them on again tonight, 
it’s become so Kafka-esque, Big words about the day’s events 
But I’m not too damn impressed 

 
And they sit there and pontificate, 
looking bloated on my screen
 Wearing somber suits, and heartfelt looks 
self-righteous, and obscene
 CHORUS
 All the time, 
All the time
 Truth is a lie
 History rhymes And I don’t even care
 No I don’t agonize
 Truth is a lie 
History rhymes BRIDGE 
Don’t mess with the masses. 
Don’t mess with the masses. 
before you say that on the air
 Send an email, check with legal 

 Covering your asses?
Are you covering your asses?
 Make sure you stick in a disclaimer 
Slander people, pay them later 
SOLO V3 
 I was talking to a guy today 
who leaves nothing to chance 
he goes online and tweets away 
and gets news in advance They sometimes like to use the term 
called “freedom of the press” 
to them objective truth is dead even when it’s not suppressed 
CHORUS
 All the time, 
All the time
 Truth is a lie
 History rhymes And I don’t even care
 No I don’t agonize
 Truth is a lie 
History rhymes LIARS
13.
V1 In your thankless city you'd think one learns a lesson from mistakes. But you are one of many fools. A minnow drowning in a giant filthy lake. V2 Think back to that moment it dawned on you, you'd never be that great. Is that when you decided, you'd need to ride on lives like mine to change your fate? CHORUS I am the disappearing architect you say and hope you finally get your raise. And what I saw is how you misdirect and lie. Were you upset they passed you by, when they gave out looks? And brains? V3 From one screen to another, you jumped and tried to cut through all the noise Inconsequential "breaking news". Your worthless, uninspired ploy. V4 And what did you accomplish telling them I vanished when I'm here? Was it an act of desperation? And was it the irrelevance you really feared? CHORUS I am the disappearing architect to you because you said it must be true. And all that phony moral outrage that I hear, is rather funny as they've come to call me Albert Speer BRIDGE You were there, pretending to care duplicitous in all that you wrote we both know, this was not really about me but a grandiose fantasy you tried to shove right down people's throats CHORUS I am the disappearing architect for now It fits your narrative somehow As you wait to for it to take effect, I'm here. And thanks for all the help in resurrecting my career my career my career my career (I didn't disappear) my career (I didn't disappear) my career (I didn't disappear) my career (I didn't disappear)
14.
I Go Inside 05:00
V1 I see a snake eating it’s tail, An ourobouros like a coffin nail

 And all those glasses filled with wine, they’ve helped me block out all this passing time 
I saw a cow on my TV, Her udders burst with slander aimed at me

 REFRAIN With all the masses being led like fools, led to be slaughtered with precision tools CHORUS I go inside, I go inside I go inside, I go inside V2 I’ve heard they work away their day, there was a time I used to work that way 
They’re on a sea searching for land, the more they see, the less they understand
 And in a land where most are blind, the one-eyed jokers are the masterminds.

 REFRAIN And I don’t really care about some cause. Don’t really care about much anymore. CHORUS I go inside I go inside I go inside I go inside 
BRIDGE
 My father found himself surrounded, by big-eared, heavy breathing peasants 
in positions of authority, 
And I suspect I know who put them there. The stench of their streets, the stench of their breath, All combined, to remind him, of the stench of death, it's ancient history, yet once again, Its permeating through the air V3/SOLO 
V4 I’m told to keep my head down low, and play along with all the puppet shows 

I’ve heard they’re giving out rewards, to people helping you fall on your sword. 
And what goes on behind the scenes, shouldn’t concern the likes of you and me

(or so they say) 

REFRAIN And what I see, I cannot recognize, I have no need for brave new worlds outside. CHORUS I go inside, I go inside I go inside, I go inside I go inside, I go inside I go inside, I go inside

about

Three years ago this month (June 2021), Christina Wilkie and Rachel Maddow, as well as their corporate paymasters NBCUniversal, MSNBC, CNBC, and their parent, Comcast. tried to drag me into a cesspool of filth which they not only inhabit, but thrive in.

They defamed me, they slandered me, and they smeared my professional reputation by insinuating I was a criminal and had “disappeared”, because I chose not to respond to their loaded questions, and take down my company’s old social media and website, when asked to do so by my (then) new employers.

Why take this interest in me, a relatively unknown and fairly “small time” architect, you may ask? Because like many architects based in NYC, over the course of my professional career, I had worked on some projects for Trump. That alone was enough to capture their feeble imaginations, and in their rabid eyes, smelling an opportunity, make me a “suspect” (or more appropriately, a “target”).

When they realized their “story” on me led to a dead-end before it even began, because despite their best efforts, there was no story, being the blood-sucking parasites they are, they immediately scurried to find a new host, undoubtedly hoping for better results, and proceeding to pretend that their story on me never happened.

BUT I DIDN’T.

What resulted from that experience for me was the creation of this album, which at times during the last three years has served as my place of solace, the reclamation of my identity (which they unsuccessfully tried to hijack), and my coping mechanism. It is dark and it is cynical in its world view, reflecting many of the conclusions I’ve drawn having gone through this farce and other experiences during my professional career as an architect. But most importantly, it has served as a catharsis (of sorts).

While I can’t stop cheap and profoundly ugly (and I do mean, UGLY), propagandists like Wilkie and Maddow as well as their paymasters (corporate and otherwise), from continuing to make a living slandering and defaming people like me with impunity (defamation laws in the United States, and frankly, human nature, need to change for that to happen), I CAN take that experience and try and learn from it, and create a work of Art in the process.

Making this album has given me time to think. One of the many things I’ve come to realize is that no one (including me) can come close to inflicting the type of damage on these two frauds, that they haven’t already inflicted on themselves.

I have no doubt that time will prove me correct. Trafficking in obscene lies and operating in the gutters of their “profession”, they are grotesque and deformed caricatures of what real journalists are. They’ve shown that they are reckless and intentionally dishonest - as equally motivated by the notoriety that comes with feigning ideological fervor, as they are by the accolades and monetary rewards that come in its wake. This seems to have become commonplace among many media figures of the dystopian technocracy we now all unfortunately inhabit.

Exhibiting no virtues whatsoever, except the ones they vainly try to “signal” while they reflexively check on their followers and their ratings (just look at their ridiculous twitter accounts), these gargoyles perfectly illustrate everything that is wrong with an irreparably corrupt, morally bankrupt, and politicized media. A cheaply bought media that slings one false narrative after another like spaghetti against a wall, hoping something will stick and get ratings, and which has completely lost the trust of that constantly shrinking segment of the public that actually still bothers paying attention to it.

Despite what Wilkie and Maddow tried to do to me, I wouldn’t trade places with these disgusting and pathetic harpies for all the money in the world.

I know WHO I am, and WHAT I am.
I also know what they are. They are GARBAGE.

They are inferior in every measurable sense. And as a result, I suspect that when they came to this inevitable realization, they were forced to skirt convention and stoop to chronic dishonesty bordering on criminality, as their modus operandi in order to survive and make their way in the world.

Sadly they found a line of work that not only affords them survival, but in fact rewards their type of masturbatory and reflexive self-aggrandizement by calling it “success”.

As I said, GARBAGE.
(And I’ll bet when they look in the mirror, and momentarily let their thick veil of self-delusion slip, they would agree. I never said they were stupid, after all).

If I was a more compassionate man, I might pity them. But they don’t deserve my pity, or yours for that matter. What they deserve is not only scorn, but to be stripped of the platforms they have been entrusted with, and which they have serially abused and exploited for their own personal gain. The fact they still have jobs, draw salaries and continue to go unpunished, tells you everything you need to know about the state of the media today. More importantly, the fact that they have hundreds of thousands of faithful followers online and millions on TV, who hang on their every word, and whose minds are so soft and pliable as to take every lie they utter at face value, and as the sacrosanct “truth” (and who also took to attacking and defaming me on social media before they even learned how to spell my name correctly), reveals far more about the intellect of your fellow citizens, who also happen to be your fellow voters, than it does about this pair of 3rd rate propagandists. If I still cared, and still voted, I would find this distressing. Luckily, I do neither. Frankly, I’ve come to consider the whole enterprise of “politics”, especially the 21st century version of "American Representative Democracy" a sham neither worthy of my time or energy. All the more reason I was stunned, but not surprised, when Wilkie and Maddow tried to drag me into their filthy world.

Nevertheless, as Socrates famously inferred in The Republic, one of the inherent problems with “democracy” is that it treats people as equals, whether they are equal or not. Maddow and Wilkie no doubt owe their “success” and “careers” to this very idea which has proven itself true again and again.

This album is dedicated to ALL of them and their failed defamation project on ME.

This album is also a FREE download. Contrary to what they’d have you believe, MY creative endeavors have NEVER been about making money (my bank account can attest to that). Rather, they’ve been about a process of examination, discovery, intellectual fulfillment, and an endless quest for improvement.

As my hero Socrates also said “The unexamined life is not worth living”. And in speaking In his own defense, he famously said this of his prosecutors, in “The Apology”:

“Meletus and Anytus can kill me, but they cannot hurt me”.

Wilkie and Maddow, despite their most sinister efforts, haven’t even scratched me. But unfortunately for them, they’ve momentarily piqued my interest and attracted my attention. This is the result.

I hope this album will be a reminder to anyone listening, to never forget that it is YOU who writes the narrative of YOUR life. Not others. Despite what they would have you believe.

One final word on this directly to Wilkie and Maddow - many people blindly listen to your smug proclamations and lies, and not knowing any better, and unable to think for themselves, entrust and believe in you to bring them objective and reliable information. In other words, they’re suckers. They are the great stupid and unwashed masses. The gullible lemmings who you lie to every day, and have nothing but utter loathing and contempt for, but who you also need to pay for your summer homes, your domestic help, your personal trainers, your children’s diapers, and your orthodontist bills, all with their ignorant advertising dollars. You owe your pathetic “petite bourgeois” existences to all of them. And in feigning a mantle of noble selflessness - pretending to be “warriors” in pursuit of the “truth” and “voices of the common people”, as far as your naive followers go, you add insult to injury. But like everything else you project, it’s all an act. Just another sham. No surprise there. You are both a pathetic and ugly joke.

Nevertheless, you’ve never fooled me. I saw past your lies, and right through your self-righteous act and nauseating self-importance and sanctimony on DAY ONE. I saw you for the cheap and corrupt charlatans you are. And as long as I’m around, I’ll eagerly remind anyone willing to listen, in painstaking detail, of the same. Incidentally, many of your “peers” who I’ve spoken with, seem torn between laughing behind your backs, being profoundly embarrassed by you, and hating you for destroying their profession. Can you blame them?

So as you start yet another day of your rather small and unimportant lives preparing the “propaganda du jour” for your feeble minded audiences to rabidly consume like rats in some dysfunctional social experiment gone horribly wrong, listen to “The Disappearing Architect” to get in the mood.

In fact put it on “repeat play”, and drill it into your pathetic, plastic, overly made-up, overly blow dried, ugly heads. Let it be a reminder that while you may have made a little money and fooled a few people along the way, you will NEVER come close to approaching the levels of my talent, my creativity, and my intellect, but most importantly, my integrity. You lost that competition a long time ago.

And as hard as you may try to ride on the lives of people clearly superior to you, the way you tried (and failed) to ride on mine - in a vain attempt to escape, you will forever remain mired and chained in the depths of that cesspool of dishonesty, filth, but worst of all, mediocrity. A cesspool that you not only inhabit, but where you clearly belong.


PS - I’ve written at length on the absurd saga I mention above. If you’d like to learn more about it, take a look at my blog posts at:

www.fotiadis.net/fotiadis-blog/

credits

released June 21, 2021

Special thanks to: Marc Shearer, Ira Siegel, Frank Vilardi, Jim Windolf, Beth Dobson, Dave Bundy, Frank Santopadre, Lenie Colacino, The GGACP community, Mitch Lynch, Mark Harvie, George Paterson, John Murray, Eric Rhein, S&K, and the many other friends too numerous to name here, who were unwavering in their support.

Written, arranged, engineered, produced and performed by John "Yanni" Fotiadis, except:

Captain Taso's Belly:
Tzoura - Mike Risko Savvas

So Bourgeois:
Selected Electric Guitars - Marc Shearer

Miss Ambition:
Lead Guitar - Marc Shearer

Going On Strike :
Drums - Frank Vilardi
Lead Guitars - Ira Siegel

Letter To A Friend:
Lead Guitar: Marc Shearer

Parmenides:
Drums - Frank Vilardi, Lead Guitars - Ira Siegel
Backing Vocals and "Temple Horn" - Marc Shearer

Neither Circle or Square:
Selected electric guitars - Marc Shearer

History Rhymes:
Lead Guitars - Ira Siegel, Backing Vocals - Marc Shearer

The Disappearing Architect:
Slander, Defamation and Lies - Christina Wilkie and Rachel Maddow (credit where credit is due!)

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Empty City Squares New Jersey

John Fotiadis (AKA "Yanni" to his friends), is an Architect by day and a songwriter and multi-instrumentalist the rest of the time. Over the last 15+ years he's written and recorded music for film, Theater, TV, and Podcasts.

Yanni loves old rock and roll and blues and a lot of music from the UK. Empty City Squares is his sometimes real / sometimes virtual band.
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