Those vericose items didn’t last very long
I’ve got an address and two gold teeth
Let’s ring the doctor and profess our dedication
What’s the defendant’s professional vocation?

It’s an illegitimate nightmare that scars fringe fears
While we’re toasting appletinis and toting next year
Rainbows run the streets and numbers cause a racket
I’ve got a pocket full of dreams and a packet of dreck

When good neighbors close their gingerbread shingles
The Truth sleeps in the gutter next to Integrity
While we walk the golden brick path back to the brink
The edge of a ellipse that’s gonna plunge us back to drink

There’s sparkles Mr. Mxypllyx, sorry if I got that wrong
I always heard if it’s the same tune, it’s the same song
I’ve got two sticks of incense that stink of the future
And we’ll smell deep before take a plunge into dissent

A field full of weaker-thans and fair-weather-friends
All touting their own horn, waiting for angels  to descend
I’ve got ten greenbacks and two cents burning my brain
Let’s go back the station and catch the next thought train

Prime Cut - Grade A
It’s wishbone symmetry all the way down
Cracking ribs and sucking the marrow out
Whistling Dixie is a capital offense
So purse your lips baby, you still remember how?
Smack of grease spackled mouths
Sucking of teeth and breath
We’ve swung off the teat far too long
Now zipper me home in cotton cocoon

Murder most foul, only if we’re found out
Covered our tracks with layer of lies
It’ll take a machete to cut through
Our cleverest disguise
Tune the dial to 106
They’re playing us in, playing us home
Out on a wire, balanced on a knife
Let the blood flow along with the life

(Listening to Drowningman - Drowningman Still Loves You)

QED
That was stupid
Making some crazy promises to myself
Setting a ridiculous goal
I even know better
Remember how I stuck with karate
Or guitar, or podcasting, or marriage
Ouch… well that’s a bit unfair
But still, you know yourself
And did you really expect
365 days in a row
To do anything
Besides breathe and eat?
Yeah.  That’s what I thought.
See the problem is you move in cycles
(And apparently speak to yourself in the second person)
No cycle lasts a full year
Well except the seasons,
But they don’t count
Oh, and the year itself that’s a cycle too.
Ah dammit…
Look I had a point here
And it was important and now you’ve got me thinking about
Planets and asteroids and video games
And Zaxxon, which was way ahead of its time.
Crap.  Even when I try to berate myself
I lose focus.
Wait…
I think I just made my point.
That’s b/c I’m awesome

Just You Shut Your Mouth (Shafted)
Words die on the tongue before utterance
Instead there seeps in that awkward silence
The one that blesses funerals with its charm
That creeps into our bones and hearts
Somewhere in the ether drips the meaning
And if I could pluck it from the air I would
A magician conjuring illusions for you
Making you believe the glass was half-full
Come away with me to the county fair
We’ll visit the resident gypsy with tangled hair
She can give us every reassurance that all is well
Because she’s be long gone when it all goes to hell
Down by the river I whispered promises, gave my word
Seemed to be enough then, now it’s absurd
Tough times have mangled our best intentions
Rent our dreams into glory day expectations
So give me freedom or give me death
You’ll surely suffocate me till my last breath
I told you once I would love you till I died
It’s a good thing that now I feel dead inside

Less Is Never More
Bigger must be better
At least that’s what I’ve heard
You can’t get blood from a stone
But you can squeeze till it hurts
You can lead a horse to water
Making it drink may not work out
Seems to be a trend here
Of things I could go without
Apparently there’s a debate
About the trees falling down
Some philosophic types
Aren’t sure it makes a sound
An existential exercise sure
And that’s where the argument falls down
It doesn’t matter much to the tree
Whether or not you’re around
I guess there’s cliches for a reason
Old adages that don’t make sense
But when you have to explain the joke
It’s always lost on the audience
Maybe it’s time to Keep It Simple
Marginalize some of the fluff
No one wants to wander endlessly
Through a maze of tangled stuff
No one wants to work for hours
Just to call your bluff
I’ve thought this over for years
And I think that enough is enough

Stick the Landing
Bandy about your new sixth sense
This afternoon is what I like best
When we slump in our chairs and just rest
It’s time to let my chin droop to my chest

We can pretend the day will never end
That the sun will freeze and never move again
The stuck second hand will be our best friend
Just sitting here happily where time is frozen

Look into my eyes and hold my steady hand
I’ll gaze into yours and do my best to understand
Catch in this moment without time’s urgent demand
Then we can move forward making future plans

(Listening to Cursive - The Ugly Organ)

Come Hell or High Water (Let It Rain)
This is our new perversion
A battle of wits between idiots
We feel so witty, and you give me
Something new to blab about

This is our new passion
A hopeless cause, to give us pause
Take inventory of what time did to me
Something new to doubt

This is our new compensation
A handsome reward for the hatred we horde
Relentless animosity directed towards me
Something new to cast out

This is our new regression
Trending down right into the ground
Till we’re six feet deep and fast asleep
Something new to go without

(Listening to Botch - We Are the Romans)

Non-Toxic is a fancy word for not enough
Somewhere between a rock and a hard place
Your sickest  scatology merging with my face
I’ve got this corner, why don’t you come over
It’ll be fun to see what alcohol can erase

Follow me out to the dance floor, give it some more
We can dance just outside the edge of metaphor
We can give ourselves the heave ho, maybe even let go
Of the things were thought we were fighting for

Kinda seems meaningless, so I guess it’s come to this
Playing russian routlette with full clips
Turn it on semi-automatic, then try to wax poetic
While the rest of us go take a piss

When we find you tomorrow, we’ll have to borrow
The finest farmer’s best looking wheelbarrow
To lead you to the rye, where we can leave you to die
And bury our deepest secrets in your sweet marrow

(Listening to Cave In - Perfect Pitch Black)