also, for those of you who are offended by vulgar language... too bad. haha.
THE VALSALVA MANEUVER
[note: the beginning of this recorded song has my version of the "pledge of allegiance," which is some jingoistic anthem, for those of you out of the country who might be unfamiliar with this. they make all the kids say it every day from grade school up to high school. in high school i refused to sing it. but my version is not written in the lyrics, however, i will add it here as an added bonus! haha. it will be the italicized portion.]
I pledge malfeasance to the drag of being in the Delighted State of Hysteria, and to the Dictatorship, for which it name-brands, one creation, sold by frauds internationally, with bigotry and violence for all.
I am the illegitimate son of hate
My Mother Earth of dirt and dearth
Bore my name and bound my fate
We are sons of bitches in America
The Kip Shop stains of bum fluff brains
Serving our time as Children of Hysteria
My black angel of death
Tell me who sent you
We’re falling to a state
Of neurotic dementia
Candy-coated diamond-studded watered-down plastic dolls
Moirai made a mockery of Momus’s dead avetol
The Bonhomie Bruisers of the Booboisie
The Gutter Pups are greasing up for Adam’s arsenal of glee
The motherhouse of Tartuffe, Te Deums ‘fore the kiss
From four-letter words to five-fingered fists
This is the naughty nomenclature of Babel’s brigade
Clootie’s my name, I bring you Shame, this tower I’ve made
My black angel of death
Tell me who sent you
We’re falling to a state
Of neurotic dementia
Your sour apple pies have been devoured
But lavishly the travesty
Has left us lush cove cowards
John Merrick and the Bodacious Monoecious
Hell hath greeted us gracious, now Heaven is spacious
The cult-flavored derision from the color television
To win: exploit the Maladroits for a radiant collision
My black angel of death
Tell me who sent you
We’re falling to a state
Of neurotic dementia
SOULED-OUT
I’m always in love
but never out-hated
It is what it is
and never overstated
My fellow humans
have got it underrated
‘Cause your bullshit war
has escalated
There’s an Amber Alert
on the talk-show dirt
But the shit hits the fan
when it thins into sand
It pays to be good
but it sells to be bad
Turning our lives
into a sold-out fad
How idealistic
From the makers of sound
Bought-in, shipped-out
stocked-up, marked-down
I’m bigger
than the rainbow of fear
The nigger
is the color scheme here
But the shit hits the fan
when panic hits the land
Expose your children to rock and roll
It will cleanse the body and save the soul
It’s quid pro quo, it’s tit for tat
You fuck my kitty, I fuck your cat
Sex is best in excess
yes, I confess
So let’s undress
and make a fucking mess
“SARS—the new AIDS”
for the stars in their shades
in their cars custom made
behind bars where they stay
but I say
the shit hits the fan
when we don’t give a damn
Expose your children to rock and roll
It will cleanse the body and save the soul
Expose your children to rock and roll
To the glory of love and the power it holds
THE LOTTO
Love can be outrageous in a fool’s brigade of hope. I’d rather play contagious to dreams than to light a candle and mope. Your woman knows no Sati, so with pain she now must cope. I tell you this is no lottery. It’s just some terminal dope.
This world is so confused, so expect nothing less. Drawing numbers for money, or drawing numbers for death.
I wear a counter-culture T-shirt that allows for such stereotypes. The way you flash your mouth just makes me hurt, pulling tricks for stars and stripes. Your vegetative state is loving pottery, but your music is losing all the hype. I tell you, this is no lottery, it’s just planet Earth being ripe.
Malleable justice does not know smoke from breath. Drawing numbers for money, or drawing numbers for death.
Sex is incandescent if you’re present on the moon
Unrelenting and incessant with the monsters in the womb
In her station, procreation leads to babies hurled
I’m a monster in the dumpster of the world
The military instills discipline
Religion distills morals
Your parents’ fists always seem to win
Your homework drills its quarrels
And the TV’s got to fight for it all to be right
You know that’s what God’s dreaming of
Well, monsters, too can love
I found my heart inside some art, painted as it sounds
They killed me for what I was doin’, now I’m ruined, out of bounds
But I’m not dead, I’m just breast-fed on nature’s willing and able
Come to me, I’ll let you see my truth up on the table
The military instills discipline…
Never let your guard down, never let them see
I love you for your beauty, your intellectual virginity
But all the disenfranchised bugs beneath my lunar shoe
never let me love them, so please, let me love you
Wasted by brigades of fear, afraid to know themselves
The war goes on like nothing’s wrong, but I am still myself
Let the violin keep weeping, we are sweeping up the ashes
Let your veil of loss prevail, we’ll still cover you in black sashes
The military instills discipline…
WE ARE UNTITLED
[note: at the end of this track i wrote a little sermon and read it aloud on the recording over some organs with my best evangelical preacher voice. first i put in a soundbyte of someone saying a prayer in latin, then it was followed by my little sermon, and then after the heavy music came in there was a portion of a soundbyte of someone reading from genesis in hebrew. my sermon bit is also not in the lyrics, but i will write it here, as an added bonus! it will be in italics as well.]
those psychotic worlds
run by eccentric dementia
god sits atop his throne in my mouth
spitting his angry love at the religious
petty lives mean too much to a place where plastics make it possible
you are a product
you are a rating
you are a dollar bill
you are a consumer
gluttonous and happy
like pain is after a fat pill that floats in your stomach acids
tell me you know who you are
because fear has communicated to the dead
collateral is as empty as my brains
and these words are motored by the nonconformist masses
who’ve just become maggots amidst the flies
a plastic capsule shell with powdered love inside
a plastic capsule shell with powdered love inside
nobody tells their life stories like
a plastic capsule shell with powdered love inside
nowhere to hide
a dance of poets in a strange land with discotheque living rooms
a dance of poets in a strange land with discotheque living rooms
my television sings anti-songs that lead to
a dance of poets in a strange land with discotheque living rooms
a-bomb shrooms
the only requiem remedy for Satan and his production limbs
is a vacation in Sodom with a rotten apple carousel
save yourself from the closed minds
your infamy is our entertainment and we love your hard nipples
your infamy is our entertainment and we love your hard nipples
yeah
we love you
Brothers and sisters, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of America and the bomb. The holistic breeding of death, destruction, war that will take place, and the humankind who will televize the proof. O brothers and sisters! Hold hands, chew bubblegum, and spew vomitous worship hymns for pharmaceuticals and magazine beautifuls! Embrace your enemies with fire and brimstone, O Lord, packed tightly in a codeine shell of nuclear power! O brothers and sisters, God shines down upon us with a miracle flashlight in the darkness! Satan relinquish! Relinquish your stronghold on the people of our nation! And we shall blow, blow your ass straight back to the fiery depths of HELL!
and so there you have it.
