Information/Write-up
Joel Parkes: guitar, vocals
Andy Thoma: vocals
Jason Scott: vocals
Bernie Dobler: guitar
Ron Nielson: guitar, vocals
Tim Loughlin: bass
Norh Casler: drums, harmonica
Engineered and mixed by Gerry Gagnon
Assisted by Gord Booth
Recorded at Bullfrog Studios, October 24–25, 1987
Album coordination by Jessica Gihon
Album graphics by Sandy Flett
The WINDOW JUMPERS would like to thank:
The Stock Exchange
Everyone at Notorious – Kelly, Kerry, Jessica, Dave & Tina, Ron Hughes, Jeff Long, Lucy, Darren, everyone at Bullfrog, Imperial Records, and last but not least a very special thanks to Proview Capital Management Associates Inc.
THE CRASH OF ‘87
Monday morning I was feeling fine
Something happened that changed my mind
I had the funniest feeling the sky was falling
The telephone ringing was my broker calling
Well my heart started pumping like a bull stampede
When I heard what happened on the T.S.E.
My love was waiting at the factory gates with the engine running
Saying “Let’s head for the hills, the N.Y.S.E.’s coming”
An overnight drop from heaven
The crash of ‘87
She said our love is over, your run is through
Take your stocks and bonds and your dividends, your dividends
She said “I’m sorry honey, our love is coming down
So I’m selling it all and I’m leaving town
An overnight drop from heaven
The crash of ‘87
It’s a see-saw slide running up and down
Turning inside-out
I got nerves and a heart of steel
I live day by day, meal by meal
But I’ll never take nothing for granted no more
I will buy and sell with one eye on the back door
An overnight drop from heaven
The crash of ‘87
An overnight drop from heaven
Written by Joel Parkes CAPAC
© 1987 Notorious Publishing
PARANOIA
Well I was reading the paper
Just the other day
Everybody’s got something weird to say
Well the Commonwealth party was going fine
Cost more million dollars to just stand in line
USA shot Iran today
Iran says they’re gonna blow us away
Kids in the ghetto all hooked on crack
Now Boy George says he’s coming back
Paranoid, pack up your clothes
Paranoid, don’t wanna stay no more
Paranoid, turn off the TV
Paranoid, burn up the magazine
My dog Pitbull bit a gay
He’s carryin’ aids
I gotta blow me away
Down in Fort Lauderdale their having fun
My redneck greasetail can carry a gun
We’re all paranoid
USA shot Iran today
Iran says there gonna blow us away
Kids in the ghetto all hooked on crack
Now Boy George says he’s coming back
Paranoid, pack up your bags
Paranoid, makes me gag
Paranoid, turn off the TV
Paranoid, burn up the magazine
Written by A. Thoma, J. Scott, R. Nielson CAPAC/PROCAN
© 1987 Notorious Publishing
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