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Thomas Millsaps
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lyrics

It's the backstory to every bad dream
The monster lurking in the closet of
every confrontational moment
This era of the truly crazed finding comfort
in continiously creating
confusion out of contradiction of cash money conformity
of capitalizing on discomfort where coloring outside the lines
is no longer a creatively persued impulse
but as an act of pre-meditated provocation.
Sinister scrawlings used to instigate
the citizens of a nation
to put down their pens and
once again pick up their swords to start slicing at the common threads
that bind us all.
An untethered ship, political parties full of pirates.
Madness goes on unchecked
Mental illness now a pandemic.
Our state of being is bruised and bleeding on the inside.
Internal injuries will be the death of this land.
Updated slogans sear the concrete
“If you can’t take the heat, quarantine the kitchens and
let the rich eat their soybeans off the street.”

Awake to the evils of what comes too easy,
The distance between here and the desire
for whatever else might be out there, is infinite.
The crybaby man child has taken over the control room
and it’s mother and father with their faces in their Iphones.
These will be just one of the denominating factors
leading to the death of this land.
Reincarnation of this world,
well that,
that will be
the universe’s last laugh.


Cross the t’s and dot the i’s
there are x’s floating in the sky
and there is cash being horded
under the floorboards of the White House
and the way that credit helps keep
the clogged arteries of blood for money
flowing is quite something
i have to say.

Our flat screens and belly binge watching
got our activity levels flatlining
and all those silver linings saved
for rainy days
just can’t protect us anymore
from all those warm UV Rays.

For one way or another
for what it’s all worth
we are being taught a lesson
for the future to unlearn.

As compassion is commodified into yet another catchphrase
and empathy the afterthought of yet another predictable onslaught
and black anger grows hotter than white heat,
try imagining some suit and tie motherfucker dragging
his family, across the desert in their bare feet.

credits

from We​.​.​.​are Doomed, released January 23, 2021

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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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