1. One More Control
(lyrics & music Jan Kijne, Bram Bol sr)
Late at work, lookin’ ‘round for my pen
the lab is dark, and the phone rings again.
Oh no, no I can’t come to you, I’ve got
one more control to do.
Sunday night, and you wait at my desk.
I close my eyes, cos’ I know what you’ll ask.
Oh no, no I can’t come with you, I’ve got
one more control to do.
It happened one time, it happened twice –
‘nd I learned the hard way not to trust my eyes.
Is it a wrong track, or am I right?
Oh Lord, help me to decide.
An empty glass, and I call for a cab,
don’t push me now, gotta go to the lab.
Oh no, no I can’t stay with you, I’ve got
one more control to do.
It happened one time, it happened twice –
‘nd I learned the hard way not to trust my eyes.
Is it a wrong track, or am I right?
Oh Lord, help me to decide.
Late at night, and you knock on my door.
Please go – I’ve heard it all before.
Oh no, no I can’t love you, I’ve got
one more control to do.
Oh no, no I can’t love you, I’ve got
one more control to do.
3. Coomassie Blues
(lyrics Mel Rosenberg, Kate VandenBosch
music Jan Kijne, Bram Bol sr)
All day Friday at the bench,
can’t get rid of this mercapto stench.
Full of Tris and full of booze,
See I got the Coomassie Blues.
I ain’t doing very well,
can’t get rid of this awful smell.
Stink from by head down to my shoes,
can’t get rid of my Coomassie Blues.
Got no woman, got no belle,
got no proteins on my gel.
No Sue-Anne’s, no Betty-Lou’s,
just the smell of the Coomassie Blues.
I can help you bear that load,
hook a lead up to your electrode.
Send a current from your head to your shoes,
help you loosin’ the Coomassie Blues.
I found a woman, I got a pal,
resolved the proteins on my gel.
No more trouble, I’ve paid my dues
and got rid of the Coomassie Blues.
5. Algorithm to Your Heart
(lyrics Annette Hulscher, music Judy Hulscher)
One kiss plus two hugs plus four nights of waiting.
One rose plus four gifts plus two nights of dating.
I have a beautiful mind, I'm one of a kind.
But a formula to make you mine is a thing I can’t find.
People say that I'm smart,
but they don't know I've tried too hard.
Can't find the algorithm to your heart.
One trip times two calls times fifty one shades of grey.
One text times two dates times a love letter every day.
I have a beautiful mind, I'm one of a kind.
But a formula to make you mine is a thing I can’t find.
People say that I'm smart,
but they don't know I've tried too hard.
Can't find the algorithm to your heart.
But you made me see,
simple as can be,
the algorithm is just you plus me.
You have a beautiful mind, you're one of a kind.
I was totally blind how I couldn't find.
We will be never apart,
you plus me from the start.
This is the algorithm to your heart.
7. Fool’s Gold
(lyrics & music Jan Kijne, Bram Bol sr)
Snow along the creek, glitter in the bedrock.
shining clear enough to drive you insane.
You step into your boots, and pick up the shovel,
and dream beyond the hardship and the pain,
and the penetrating cold.
Heavy loads of stones, endless running water.
Diggin’ for a vision you shouldn’t trust.
Black sand’s what you get, after all your trouble,
and not a trace of glittering dust.
All your hopes on hold.
Fool’s gold, fool’s gold
Every digger knows:
you can’t find a nugget on command.
Why must I promise gold,
as the only proper way to get a grant…
That’s the way it goes…….
Snow along the creek, glitter in the bedrock.
Better keep on diggin’ - until you’re old.
Fool’s gold, fool’s gold,
fool’s gold.
2. Turning Red Light into Blue
(lyrics & music Jan Kijne, Bram Bol sr)
​
Tumor cells. You want a therapy.
Toxins charged with photo-energy.
Your trick is red light beaming in
to turn it blue under the skin
but when do you excite our chemistry?
​
You're working hard - to get your PhD.
You're so smart, but baby - can't you see?
'n Annihilator molecule,
you turn it hot and turn it cool,
but what when you're annihilating me?
​
​You! Look at me! Yeah, I mean you!
You! Look at me! You gotta work on me too!
You better change your state of mind,
cos' this is what you do:
you're turning my red light into blue.
​
I hear you coming home at night
and when you're there, you read and write,
so will I be your next discovery?
​
You! Look at me! Yeah, I mean you!
You! Look at me! You gotta work on me too!
You better change your state of mind,
cos' this is what you do:
you're turning my red light into blue.
​
You! Look at me! Yeah, I mean you!
You! Look at me! You gotta work on me too!
You better change your state of mind,
cos' this is what you do:
you're turning my red light into blue.
oooo, you're turning my red light into blue.
4. Ready for Love 1.01
(lyrics & music Ger van den Engh)
​
I know the moves, and how they're done.
I know the rules and the exceptions.
I took the course Love 1.01.
Here I come and I'm ready for love.
I'm ready for love.
I paid my dues, I studied hard.
Read every book 'could get a hold of.
I took the test, I scored the best.
Now I know that I am ready for love.
I'm ready for love.
I got an A! Now start the chase - I'm almost half on second base.
All I need is a love that's true.
A man prepared will count for two.
I am prepared, so can I count on you?
The mating game can be explained
with diagrams and pretty pictures
of birds and bees and flowering trees.
I've seen 'm all and now I'm ready for love.
I'm ready for love.
Got an A! I got a date - I'm on the way of getting laid.
All I need is a love so true.
A man prepared will count for two.
I am prepared, so can I count on you?
Flippin' A, I got it made - I'm certified to conjugate.
The only thing that's left to do
is negotiate consent with you.
Let's get together and we'll talk it through.
I know the moves and why it's done.
If you're confused, I'll draw a picture.
In theory no one beats me.
I studied hard, now I am ready for love.
I know it all, now I am ready for love.
Give me a chance 'cos I am ready for love - I'm ready for love.
6. Drinking With The Devil
(lyrics & music Jan Kijne, Bram Bol sr)
We sat along the river, one moonless meeting night,
with a bottle of some local stuff - and something white to write.
I met him at my poster, not seen his face before.
He was delighted with my work - and wanted to know more.
I told him what I had in mind and to be more precise,
I illustrated my idea and he, at last, got wise.
The stranger was deeply impressed, - this was all great and new.
The more the liquor level downed, - the more my ego grew.
I woke up in the morning with an awful aftertaste.
I wondered ‘bout my company - and about his sudden haste.
When looking in the mirror, I thought: “What did I do?
The liquor was distasteful, the stranger really too.
Some months after the meeting, - my manuscript was done.
I specified the keywords, - and googled them for fun.
I hit upon an e-print, and dammit, what a shame,
the bottom line was my idea, but with another name.
I searched all over cyberspace - to nail this bastard down.
The query gave no results, no name, no lab, no town.
Then I recalled the stranger and I knew, suddenly:
I’d been drinking with the devil who tried my vanity.
Oh students, my dear students, - please keep your powder dry,
and do not drink with strangers - who praise you to the sky!
But if you want to take the risk, - be sure of what to choose:
when you’re drinking with the devil, - at least enjoy the booze.
8. Lonesome Ligand
(lyrics Kate vandenBosch, music Jan Kijne, Bram Bol sr)
They say that I’m important, got some credits to my name.
I’m a mitogenic factor, nodulation brought me fame.
I can curl young root hairs, induce gene expression too.
But if I’m so damned important,
how come I ain't got you?
I ain’t got you, I ain’t got you,
I ain’t got you, I ain’t got you,
I’m a lonesome ligand but I don’t know what I do without you.
How come I ain’t got you?
All these binding proteins, they don’t mean a thing.
Non-specific one-night stands without signalling.
You’re made for me, my darling, and I am made for you.
Some strange domains reach out for me,
but you know, I will be true, but….
I ain’t got you, I ain’t got you,
I ain’t got you, I ain’t got you,
I’m a lonesome ligand but I don’t know what I do without you.
How come I ain’t got you?
May be you’re a lectin, and may be you are not.
My sweet and shy receptor, what is it I ain’t got?
I’ve got a fatty acid, and some pretty side groups too.
But if they’re so damn specific,
how come I ain’t got you?
I ain’t got you, I ain’t got you,
I ain’t got you, I ain’t got you,
I’m a lonesome ligand but I don’t know what I do without you.
How come I ain’t got you?
9. Two Minutes More
(lyrics & music Jan Kijne, Bram Bol sr)
I travelled twenty hours for a twenty minute talk,
and hell, I would do it again.
A horse for a ride and shoes for a walk,
that’s the way of a travelling man.
The end of the ride is a far promised land.
Don’t think of your fate when you fail.
Cos’ when your sweet samples slip down from your hand,
it throws you from scratch on the trail.
So tune up the banjo, join in the line.
I am your caller, get me a jug of wine.
Thanks, organizers, for giving me the floor,
and please, Mr Chairman, give me two minutes more!
The road to the platform is dusty and rough.
You sleep in the saddle all night.
The chuckwagon ‘s poor and the jerky is tough,
but over the skyline is light.
So tune up the banjo, join in the line.
I am your caller, get me a jug of wine.
I’ll show you the data that y’all ‘ve been waiting for,
so please, Mr Chairman, give me two minutes more!
And when there is justice, then you’ll hit the mark.
The programme will feature your name.
You’ll ride in the spotlights, the crowd’s in the dark,
for just a few minutes of fame.
So tune up the banjo, join in the line.
I am your caller, get me a jug of wine.
Yes, I see the people set out for the door,
but please, Mr Chairman,
please, Mr Chairman
please, Mr Chairman, give me two minutes more!
10. After the Meeting
(lyrics & music Jan Kijne, Bram Bol sr)
It’s the morning after the meeting
and Sam Adams is knockin’ on my head.
Try to remember what I’ve been eatin’,
try to remember what I might have said.
Oh, I wish – I hadn’t seen her.
She was bound to be my banquet queen.
But he was older and convener,
and I had only poster A15.
Ooh, I knew, she’s not to blame,
part of the game.
Ooh, I knew, but all the same …..
She was dancing, ‘nd I was drinking,
saw them leave before the final set.
And all I got to stop me thinking
was another pitcher, and one more to forget.
Don’t know where I lost my notion,
in which bar I ended up with whom.
But gotta find me another potion
cos’ I still see her walking out that room.
cos’ I still see her walking out that room.
11. When the Sun Goes Down
(lyrics and music Ger van den Engh)
When the day is done and the sun goes down,
the guys and gals drive their truck to town.
Party all night with pizza and beer,
but you and I we’re sitting here,
you and I ‘re just sitting here.
You look so cute on your high bench-chair,
curls on your lab coat and your brown eyes stare.
At the test tube lodged in your tight left hand,
Eppendorf don’t understand,
Eppendorf in your purple hand.
DNA swirls ‘round and ‘round - in random tracks says mr Brown.
You and I must calibrate - so DNA can replicate.
We spend the night at the bench till dawn.
Everybody’s talking but there’s nothing going on.
Just a nerdy story of two lab techs,
who replicate but don’t have sex,
they PCR on separate tracks
Stir it up and spin it down - Polymerase goes round and round.
Wonder what you’d do or say - if I suggest a more traditional way.
I run hot and you run cold,
opposite cycles if the truth be told.
Imagine now how things would change
iIf you and I put a clone on the range,
yeah, you and I could clone on the range.
Polymerase goes ‘round and ‘round - What goes up surely comes down.
DNA must propagate - but you and I still abdicate.
When the day is done and the sun goes down,
the guys and gals drive their truck to town.
We 're all alone, it's getting late, but you and I just sit and wait;
you and I procrastinate.
The sun is set, it's getting late, you and I still hesitate.
12. Tears on a Labcoat
(lyrics & music Jan Kijne, Bram Bol sr)
Blue
stains on my hands
and my labcoat is blue.
Everything drops, now I’m thinkin’of you.
You broke my dreams, and left me the slivers.
And I, I’m feeling my tears comin through
But I don’t cry, don’t cry
for tears on a labcoat are too hard to hide.
No, I don’t cry, don’t cry,
cos’ tears on a labcoat never dry.
Red
stains on the floor
and my fingers are red.
I’m loosing control, thinkin’ back on what you’ve said.
I clean the bench, and cover your traces.
But how can I wipe you out of my head?
But I don’t cry, don’t cry
for tears on a labcoat are too hard to hide.
No, I don’t cry, don’t cry,
cos’ tears on a labcoat never dry.
No, I don’t cry, don’t cry,
cos’ tears on a labcoat never dry.
13. Fight Like a Man
(lyrics & music jan Kijne, Bram Bol sr)
Clouds of anger darken my day.
Lord, did you send this reviewer my way?
‘n Empty letter, straight from a shelf.
Man, could have written it myself.
“Title’s wrong, text too long,
view indeed is new, but:
gel’s a smear, plates unclear,
experiments bit few…”
This bore’s a target that I can’t miss,
but I don’t know who it is…
Come out your hide-out, come in the open air.
Come out your hide-out, come out if you dare.
Come out the shadow, come out if you can.
Come out….and fight like a man.
“Why “unknown”, why “not shown”?
Full of promise, sure, but:
poor control, sloppy whole,
conclusion premature..”
This chicken’s game that I can’t miss,
but I don’t know who it is…
Come out your hide-out, come in the open air.
Come out your hide-out, come out if you dare.
Come out the shadow, come out if you can.
Come out….and fight like a man.
14. On the Move
(lyrics & music Jan Kijne, Bram Bol sr)
Truck wheels a’runnin’ on a lone country road.
Cuttin’ heartache on the radio.
No news from the sat nav, no rush for the load,
and many never-ending miles to go.
Rain on the windshield ‘nd eyes on the lines.
Neon lights a’waitin’ round the bend.
This road is my homeland, this traffic is mine.
Don’t mind the destination at the end.
And out in the pines I realize
that down ev’ry truckstop new mileposts arise.
So I take it easy , ‘nd drive in a groove.
Always on the move.
Truck wheels a’runnin’, no need for more.
Mem’ries of home won’t stay for long.
Some call me a chicken, some call me a bore,
but truckdrivin’ people can’t be wrong.
And out in the pines I realize
that after an answer, new questions arise.
So I take it easy, 'nd drive in a groove.
Always on the move.
And out in the pines I understand:
without destinations, you’re lost in no man’s land.
But ooh, it’s too easy to drive in a groove.
Always on the move.
Always on the move.