Well, how to explain the genesis of this song?  When I first started thinking about doing a One Year of Portland Songs Blog, I thought to myself that I should do a song about or including Sullivan’s Gulch.  My next thought -- which, oddly, was almost instant -- was that if a King Kong or Godzilla type ever came to Portland, they would use Sullivan’s Gulch as a bowling alley.  Now, about seven months later, that weird idea has come to fruition in an even weirder song -- this week’s song, “Unnatural Disasters.”  I don’t really know what else to say about it, except that I guess it’s in the vein of the people who occasionally roam our city shouting, “The end is near!”  Beware, Portland, beware.

Lyrics:

When the giants come to Portland, Sullivan’s Gulch will be their bowling alley.

When the giants come to Portland, they’ll hike right through the Willamette Valley.

When the giants come to Portland, they’ll tromp City Hall for their finale.

When the giants come to Portland, I don’t want to be around,

When the giants come to Portland, they’ll probably eat Downtown.

All of Downtown.

When the aliens arrive, and they take our very lives, then they’ll build pod homes in the Pearl.

When the aliens arrive, on our brains they will thrive, mashing them into a pulpy swirl.

When the aliens arrive, we pesky humans won’t survive, for they’ll take over the entire world.

When the aliens arrive, I don’t want to be around,

When the aliens arrive, run and hide, don’t make a sound.

Oh, not a sound.

Unnatural disasters, they’re bound to happen soon,

Unnatural disasters, like the falling of the moon,

Like the coming of the locusts, the attack of the baboons,

Unnatural disasters, like an acid rain monsoon.

When the dragons fly to Portland, the Blazers will literally be on fire.

When the dragons fly to Portland, the Tram line will become their perching wire.

When the dragons fly to Portland, Stumptown’s fate will be rather dire.

When the dragons fly to Portland, I don’t want to be around,

When the dragons fly to Portland, we’ll all be burnt into the ground.

The lonely ground.

Unnatural disasters, they’ll be here by May or June,

Unnatural disasters, like the ghosts of Brigadoon,

Like the abominable snowman, like a pink python platoon,

Unnatural disasters, like garden gnomes astride raccoons.

When the nomads conquer Portland…