I've got nothing to say, 
I've got nothing to do, 
all of my neurons are functioning smoothly 
yet still I'm a cyborg just like you, 
I'm one big myoma that thinks, 
my planet supports only me, 
I've got this one big problem: 
will I live forever? 
I've got just a short time to see, 
modern man, evolutionary betrayer, 
 modern man, ecosystem destroyer, 
modern man, destroy yourself in shame, 
modern man, pathetic example of 
earth's organic heritage 
when I look back and think, 
when I ponder and ask "why?", 
I see my ancestors spend with careless abandon, 
assuming eternal supply, modern man . . . 
just a sample of carbon-based wastage, 
just a fucking tragic epic of you and I. 

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Turn On The Light 

I had a friend who kept a candle in his pocket, 
he used to touch it when the wind was blowing high, 
I guess it made him feel like he could buck the system 
and when it flickered out we laid him down to die, 
turn on the light, 
turn on a million blinding brilliant white incendiary lights, 
a beacon in the night, 
I'll burn relentlessly until my juice runs dry 
I'll construct a rack of tempered beams and trusses 
and equip it with a million tiny suns, 
I'll install upon the roof of my compartment 
and place tinfoil on my floor and on my walls, 
then I'll turn on the light . . . 
and I'll burn like a roman fucking candle, 
like a chasm in the night, 
for a miniscule duration, 
ecstatic immolation, 
incorrigible delight. 

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Get Off 

lascivious, it's all that I can think of as I drag my feet, 
searching like a diogenes, 
dangerous, the adjectives of the decade 
and of your alluring intricacies, 
I can see your green-screen mentality 
and I can feel the sting of it's consequence, 
and I know I shouldn't 
but it's too much to ignore, an emotion I deplore, 
every time I look at you, 
I just want do it, 
I can clench my fist right through it 
but I just want to get off 
rectilinear, this direction we've been heading 
never realizing we are on a runaway machine, 
angular, the momentum that does turn us one 
step further on our ladder, 
one more turn toward the east, 
I realize your green-screen mentality 
and I know it is shared by many more, 
I know it's quite impossible 
but I am damned to find a way to revolve the other way, 
every time I scrutinize I just say "screw it", 
we're on a ride down a blind conduit 
and I just want to get off. 

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Blenderhead 

flying through a dark prismatic tunnel on a carousel, 
the earth is turning and you know it very well, 
your mind is reeling like ten helicopters 
wheeling and you're gonna hit the ceiling 
like a mallet on a bell, 
hey, blenderhead, 
they're starting to ask questions, 
your transgressions are a danger flashing sign, 
challenge conventions and radiate your splendor 
and feel those flywheels churn on your blenderhead 
tally up the gleaming ventured in a wishing well, 
each shining trinket has a story it can tell, 
your moments pining like those tales all 
intertwining can become the rusted lining of a deep neglected shell, 
hey, blenderhead, 
you ask so many questions, 
your confusion's a life-affirming sign, 
break from tradition and carry on with valor 
and feel those flywheels churn your blenderhead. 

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Positive Aspect Of Negative Thinking 

let's gather round the carcass of the old deflated beast, 
we have seen it through the accolades and rested in it's lea, 
syntactic is our elegance, incisive our disease, 
the swath endogenous of ourselves will be our quandary, 
we've nestled in it's hollow and we've suckled at it's breast, 
grandiloquent in attitude, impassioned yet inept, 
frivolous gavel our design, ludicrous or threat, 
excursive expeditions leave us holding less and less, 
so what does it mean? 
when we tell ourselves it's only for a while we have been deceived 
and it's only for a moment that the treasures of our day 
make life easier to complicate, 
the treasure thrown away, 
I'm so tired of all the fucked up mind 
of all the terrorist religions and their bullshit lines, 
of all the hand-me-downs from all industrial crimes 
and the weeping mothers and those who are led so blind, 
from the plastic protests and the hands of time 
and the pursuit of mirth and all hating kind. 

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Anesthesia 

everybody is talking about the girl 
who went and killed the delivery man, 
but she looks so kind and gentle, 
it just doesn't stand to reason, 
I saw her right there just the other night 
as stately as a slot machine, 
but when she looked my way something mad 
as hell came over me, 
anesthesia, mona lisa, I've got a little gun, 
here comes oblivion, 
I never loved you, how did you find me? 
the cops will never complicity now, anna . . . 
all good children go to heaven! 
I remember your face that august night 
when we lied about the beautiful time to come 
and that crazy old man who came much to late 
and caused a chain reaction, 
I've been hanging out there for eleven long years 
like a church mouse where the cat has gone, 
and looking at you now 
is driving me to distraction. 

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Flat Earth Society 

lie, lie, lie . . . 
the full moon is rising over dark water 
and the fools below are picking up sticks 
and the man in the gallows lies permanently 
waiting for the doctors to come back and tend to him, 
the flat earth society is meeting here today, 
singing happy little lies 
and the bright ship humana is sent far away 
with grave determination . . . 
and no destination, lie, lie, lie 
yeah, nothing feels better than a spray of clean water 
and the whistling wind on a calm summer night, 
but you'd better believe that down in their quarters 
the men are holding in for their dear lives, 
the flat earth society is somewhere far away, 
with their candlesticks and compasses 
and the bright ship humana is well on its way 
with grave determination . . . 
and no destination, lie, lie, lie, ad infinitum. 

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Faith Alone 

heard a sermon from a creaky pulpit with no one in the nave, 
I paid a visit to the synagogue and I left there feeling blame, 
no one could tell me what to do, 
no one had the ability to answer me, 
what the world needs now is some answers to our problems, 
we can't buy more time because our tender isn't valid, 
if your soul needs love you can get consoled by pity, 
but it looks as though faith alone won't sustain us anymore, 
watched the scientists throw up their hands conceding, 
"progress will resolve it all", 
saw the manufactures of earth's debris ignore another green peace call, 
no one could tell me what to do, 
they had not the capacity to answer me, 
what the world needs now is some accountability, 
we can't buy more time because time won't accept our money, 
if your soul needs love you can always have my pity, 
but it looks as though faith alone won't sustain us no more . . . 

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Entropy 

random blobs of power expressed as that which we all disregard, 
ordered states of nature on a scale that no one thinks about, 
don't speak to me of anarchy of peace or calm revolt, 
man, we're in a play of slow decay orchestrated by boltzmann, 
it's entropy, it's not a human issue, 
entropy, it's a matter of course, 
entropy, energy at all levels, 
entropy, from it you can not divorce 
and your pathetic moans of suffrage tend to lose all significance, 
extinction, degradation; 
the natural outcomes of our ordered lives, 
power, motivation; temporary fixtures for which we strive, 
something in our synapses assures us we're ok 
but in our disquilibrium we simply can not stay, 
it's entropy . . . 
a stolid proposition from a man unkempt as I, 
my affectatious I can not rectify, 
but we are out of equilibrium unnaturally, 
a pang of consciousness of death 
and then you will agree. 

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Against The Grain 

three thousand miles of wilderness 
overcome by the flow, 
a lonely restitution of pavement, 
pomp and show, 
I seek a thousand answers, 
I find but one or two, 
I maintain no discomfiture, 
my path again renewed, 
against the grain, 
that's where I'll stay, 
swimming upstream, 
I maintain against the grain 
here labelled as lunatic, 
sequestered and content, 
there ignored and defeated 
by the government, 
there's an oriented public who's magnetic 
force does pull, 
but away from the potential of the individual, 
against the grain . . . 
the flow is getting stronger 
with smaller increments of time and eddies 
of new ideas are increasingly hard to find, 
you need all that the other has, 
your right to seize the day 
but in all your acquisitions you will soon 
be swept away, 
against the grain . . . 
there's a common consensus 
and an uncomfortable cheer, 
a reverberating chorus that anyone can hear, 
it sings "leave your cares behind you, 
just grab tenaciously", 
this lulling sense or purpose will 
destroy us rapidly, 
against the grain . . . 

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Operation Rescue 

it's an s.o.s sent out telepathically, 
signs of our distress don't allow complacency, 
we need restoration now of our integrity and a 
drastic bold reminder of our morality, 
the rectifying troop is here, 
the ones we have needed all these years to stop 
the heinous wrongdoings and verify our moral
benevolence as a people, 
operation rescue, 
they're here to right our fall, 
they have heard a troubled call, 
operation rescue, 
you may wonder where they come from, 
but I just wonder why they're here at all, 
life ever-after is what they're in business for, 
see them brandish the key to their kingdoms door, 
it's persuasive, it's a part of you and me 
but it's not overwhelming as they wish it to be, 
if no one believed in fairy tales 
there would be nothing they could do but fail 
yet everywhere we look someone is trying to reassure our 
moral benevolence 
as a people, 
operation rescue . . . 
you may wonder where they come from, 
but I just wonder what compels them all. 

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God Song 

and did those feet in ancient times 
trod america's pastures of green? 
and did that anthropocentric god wane 
with their thoughts and beliefs all unseen? 
I don't think so, 
he's up there with the others lying low, 
vying with those who you've traded 
your life to bless your soul, 
and have they told you how to think, 
cleansed your mind of sepsis and autonomy? 
or have you escaped scrutiny, 
and regaled yourself with depravity? 
now we all see, "religion is just synthetic 
frippery, unnecessary in our expanding 
global culture efficiency" 
and don't you fear this impasse 
we have built to our future? 
ever so near, 
and oh so austere. 

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21st Century (Digital Boy) 

I can't believe it, 
the way you look sometimes, 
like a trampled flag on a city street, 
oh yeah, 
and I don't want it, 
the things you're offering me 

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