1. |
Burgers & Lies
03:25
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Burgers & Lies
Well, you know folks
there will always be burgers and lies
and people caught up continuously asking the question
of why?
While on a beach in lotus pose
with a rolled twenty up their nose
or at home with a dream catcher above their bed
and a poster on the all from IKEA
with the silhouette of Che Guevara
and the words,
Punk is dead.
This hybrid half-life cruise control
sleeping in the carpool lane,
searchers searching for reason to keep on searching
through all the crazy and insane.
And all those well-paid podcast profiters
subscribe to be inspired,
chem trail spiritual pick pocket con-artists
got you to conspire.
Sit back swipe away the world,
sit back swipe away the world,
sit back swipe away the world
and watch it all go up in
fire.
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2. |
Rise Up
03:13
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Rise Up.
Conspiracy theory clusterfucks
Bezos bald like Daddy Warbucks
V neck sweater man woke man
all that a power suit woman can
Ping pong political office atmosphere
Modern science, playing off of fear
Rise up
But stay in your seat
Clap your hands
With shackled feet
Tie me up with inspiration
bound and gagged by desperation
so caught up with how you feel
oblivious to your own Achilles heel
Everything said and nothing ever learned
Limited series, let’s watch it burn
Oh, so tired of the latest craze
Hard to see if its all not a phase
Soundbites seeking backhanded praise.
Tie the noose based on a phrase.
Rise up
But stay in your seat
Clap your hands
With shackled feet
Rise up
But stay in your seat
Clap your hands
With shackled feet
Incel influence take the world from behind,
what was yours now that is mine
stroked and choked this world gone mad
the lost are born from of the mating of
the blind
mis-information is the cancer of mankind
Rise up
But stay in your seat
Clap your hands
with shackled feet
Rise up
But stay in your seat
Clap your hands
With shackled feet.
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3. |
Sweating Bullets
01:22
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Sweating Bullets
I’m burning like a candle on a birthday cake
and I’m smiling like a horse leaping out the gate,
got a sea change no seasons now there is nothing left to see
got to re-define the meaning of the words living free.
It’s a likely story, one never heard before
all the excuses for man locked behind closed doors,
no secrets worth sharing with a god you don’t trust
all the half-truths born from the mind of the must.
Well, I’m tired and tried, twice baked and deep fried
all the manic laughter heard from those who have died,
Blacked out and I’m bloated back again for more,
you can’t raise the roof when you’re living on the floor.
So apparent so obvious now that it is clear
all the money made off of living in fear,
I say get away before it gets inside of you
got to see beyond the chaos that is blocking your view.
Blacked out and I’m bloated back again for more,
you can’t raise the roof when you’re living on the floor.
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4. |
Huevos Rancheros
03:23
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4.
Huevos Rancheros
I got awareness in my back pocket
and my lovelight is turned to high beam,
I can’t see so clearly now that the fog has rolled in
and reality is not as it seems.
Well, it’s not the first time I’ve been caught
in the shadows of self-confidence,
I’m a dual man wasting time wondering
about this abscess of excess.
Cycle human drama recycled karma
there is a glitch glitch glitching in my memories
well, I know it is built in there to make me blind
to what you don’t want me to see.
And as landscapes unfold like origami untold
and newspaper swans are just yesterday’s news,
well, I saw extinction walking secondhand alligator shoes.
Well, that’s right, you gotta slice the pie to feed the need
that you choose.
Division inclusion graph the usual grift
dispersal of equality gone adrift.
So, what, sore losers
rub your eyes, grown men so often cry
about what you were never taught in school,
that as you get older the burden of proof falls
upon the shoulders of the fool.
Yeah, that’s right, as you get older
the burden of proof falls upon the shoulders of you
the fool.
Now, every gender and very race
count your chickens,
eggs smashed in the basket of the commonplace.
Huevos Rancheros is a good friend of mine,
and I do like to scramble my brains
from time to time,
yeah, from time to time
from time to
time.
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5. |
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The Skies are Still Blue like an Illusion redux
I could never have imagined that
we would end up taking it all so seriously
shaking our heads, dumfounded by
all the ridiculous shit that has overcome us all
but we have and we do
and the skies are still blue like an illusion
and the skies are still blue like an illusion.
She was as sharp as a pencil and
always had a way of getting her point across.
When she died at the age of 35 of lead poisoning
it was of little surprise to any of us.
In his eulogy her husband said
between a tear and a wink
that his wife had never gotten a tattoo
because of her disdain for ink.
and the skies are still blue like an illusion
and the skies are still blue like an illusion.
Growing up in the suburbs,
I never did have a neighbour who was an existentialist
but if I had, I’m sure
that she would have told me that,
more or less
give or take
you’ll never catch a fucking break
by wearing an oven mitt to a baseball game.
and the skies are still blue like an illusion
and the skies are still blue like an illusion.
And the seas are still cluttered by balloons
whose attached language grew too heavy to bare.
And the planets well they never actually asked to be discovered.
And our toleration for one another is looking a bit malnourished don’t ya think.
And our curiosity well, has gotten the best of us
as we push aside the curtain every morning
just to confirm once more,
that the skies are still blue like an illusion
and the skies are still blue like an illusion.
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6. |
Amputate
01:52
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Amputate
When they amputate each hand just above the wrist
and then expect you to turn the key, to make the twist
on that bottle of pills that promises to
take the edge off of all that ills
but with no hands to grasp the sands of time just
keep piling at your feet
and your boot camp body weight instructor
keeps yelling in your face no surrender no re-defeat
and your head aches and your mind is blank
and you’re running late and your body feels like
someone dumped white sugar into your gas tank.
and the podcast prophets have sewn seeds of disbelief
into your brain and you’re dead tired of all the opposing ideas
that in the abstract sound exactly the same,
like white privilege and black blame
and with no fingers to point or person to shame
it is increasingly hard to hold onto your own state of mind
for the gods have no mercy and see us exactly for who we are
celebrity worshipping morons opposed to the idea of slavery
but enamored by a future of self-driving cars.
For the wheels keep spinning
even if the clocks no longer keep time
for what was once see as concrete is now built upon
the dime a dozen idealism and feeble foundations
of some social media mutations
whose grave conspiracies go deeper
than the big pharma reaper
and it has become increasingly hard
to hold onto the truth that you seek,
when your hands have been amputated
and lie at your feet.
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7. |
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A Daily Prayer for Common Sense
You can huddle together round
a fire of doubt for as long as
the embers will burn
and still never get warm.
In the end, when the last
flicker of red is extinguished,
and you find yourself numb
from the fear,
gathered together
amongst enablers
and enemies alike.
You may realize that you could also
forego this sort of communal burnout
by just setting fire to the good old ego.
Be it the blood or the ink
which soaks through the paper
through and through
either will do,
the obvious door is always wide open
someone is waiting there, peering out
waiting to kick your ass through
I say, save me from this mortality
of dwelling upon memory
and let contradiction be my guiding light
and may everything that I know today
be subject to self ridicule tomorrow.
For I am entitled to change my mind
to inhabit different beliefs from one day to the next
and I look forward to losing my way occasionally.
Make this a daily prayer for common sense
an invitation to the universal line dance
where we all look equally as lost,
even when we aim to lead
with our best foot forward.
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8. |
Fleshtones
02:44
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Flesh Tones
White guy with privilege on his chin,
he’s wearing a suit and tie, he’s got that silk napkin
and a black dude with a hoodie on
and a bulge in his pocket
and everyone in the store watching him
wondering what’s he packing?
Asian fella fed up leaning there behind the counter
staring into space got a pissed off look
all over his Buddha face
and the Muslim woman with her hijab on
standing there yelling into her telephone
and everyone around her wondering if she owns
the goddam place.
Moroccan kids kicking over garbage cans
and the newspapers say that each one packs a knife
and that girl from Senegal unable to go to school
cause she’s here illegal, having had to flee for her life.
And all that worry about the LGBTQ
ask yourself brother why the fuck does any of it
even bother you?
All these acronyms for equality
and pronouns for personal use,
now it’s hard for me to believe that the freedom of choice
actually, ever had anything to do with the right to choose.
Social justice chancre sore,
political system a complete whore
confederate flag flog a dead horse
fragmented freedom and the continuous use
of undue force.
Barbed wire refugee
work at home
locked down
yet living free
paranoid mental state
watch what you say on your first date
cancel culture fist bump
are we still blaming all our problems on
good old Donald?
You see I’m doing a backstroke through
a polluted sea of stereotypes
and the humor that we used to share and hold so dear
is now just dried up frustration,
the flesh tones of a face
full of fear.
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9. |
Brave Face
04:20
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Brave Face
Some days it is hard to put on a brave face. The face you will use to meet and greet those who have less but are in need of just a bit more.
You give yourself no sympathy, your gas tank reads a big E on empathy and the inflated cost of compassion has just got you in a bad mood. You attempt to force yourself to believe in something good but your oatmeal is soggy, eggs soft boiled and your coffee has gone cold.
You shave with a butter knife, style your hair with a fork, clean your teeth with the toilet brush, as your entire surroundings erupt with everyone in a rush. All the while you can feel each cell in your body growing old and that second cup of coffee, has also gone cold.
You try to focus on your Instagram influenced breathing techniques but with every breath you feel your spirit leak. A cold shower doesn’t cure you, caffeine ain’t giving you a kick but thinking that if you could do something good for someone else, maybe that would do the trick.
So, you get up, get dressed, put on your shoes, and tell yourself to stop wallowing in your Spotify soft boiled blues.
You silence your self pity and get out and into the city. Be the person who holds the light, the light that can illuminate a bit of brightness and warmth for those who lives through the darkness of days spent as if life was perpetual night.
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10. |
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Breadcrumbs for the Gluten free
Breathe and escape
all these tripped out faces
planted permanently in
all their catatonic places
throat ghost ghosting
words unwind, expendable time
sands spill shoot to thrill
shake the hands that quietly kill
hard to make plans today
gps the cradle to the grave
still getting lost along the way
the daily diet, the malcontent
why wait for Friday for the disconnect
we are all just commercial content
we are all just commercial content
Save the world a suckers bet
point of view nothing new
growing older getting mean
orange soda amphetamine
drink your fill sugar kills
vaccinated refills
subscribe to suicide,
leave your followers wondering why
why your truth is filled with lies
and what is it that we all hide.
We are all just commercial content
We are all just commercial content
How can we be living free
when all the cameras see
what we can’t see.
Esoteric pig-pen
politics of staying zen
back and forth
let’s do it again
decision making
painstaking
exacerbate
masturbate
the common good
what was the use
when you said
that if we should
then yes, we can.
Shopping center battleground
murder in a small town
infant scroller
comment troller
going viral VD
mugshots on their CV’s
bottom feeders twitter feed
tweets from twats
is all I read.
Guardrails and guide books
self-help for the common crook
breadcrumbs for the gluten free
uber drivers of the monarchy
euro dollar system failure
stuff my face with natural fat
no job to pay the income tax
indifference broke the camels back.
Repossessed and up for sale
who’s got the money for the bail
a deeper debt to pay the fine
sell your home or do the time
hand out and hand
staying sane
is getting tough.
How can we be living free
when all the cameras see
what we can’t see.
Esoteric pig-pen
politics of staying zen
back and forth
let’s do it again
decision making
painstaking
exacerbate
masturbate
the common good
what was the use
when you said
that if we should
then yes we can.
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11. |
Happy Ending
03:33
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Happy Ending
It was a beautiful dawn,
as the sun peered out from the horizon
and the birds in the sky sang songs of freedom
and the hunters laid in wait in the tall grass.
It was a beautiful day,
as the children gathered free
of Kevlar upon unguarded school yards
and the socially maladjusted wanna be school shooters just stayed at home
in their mothers’ basements
to polish their AK’s, watch pornography, eat bologna
and masturbate over all their ammunition.
It was a beautiful afternoon,
as politicians played hide the salami with their interns,
while at the same time pushing protocols
aimed at those without proper healthcare
cornering them into becoming criminals
and far far away the wheat fields in the Ukraine
are burning a golden hue.
It was a beautiful evening,
to gorge upon
an all you can eat buffet of disembowelled discourse
and to wash it down with the confused cocktail
of conservatives playing good cop to
bewildered liberals who seem to have lost
the fucking plot.
It had been a beautiful day,
one in which I stared directly into the sun
and blinded my own sense of being.
Sarcastic and hazy, trust me I am not lazy
but sometimes I do lean upon the old cliche
that this world has gone fucking crazy.
And by staring directly into the sun
I can blind myself into seeing
the silver linings dancing around all the clouds
raining down upon our communal misery.
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The Irrational Library Haarlem, Netherlands
“A halo on a razor edge, a remix of parallel times, the ludicrous sincerity of rhythm keeping the paces of joy and pain in synch. The Irrational Library’s is that score that settles the score for the under-scored.”
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