Category: Lyrics

When the whippoorwill repeats whisperingly,
as the head ruptures and cracks
under pressure intensified,
never-ending, unchanging,
holding on to the
last thread of
laughter
…quietly
…repeating
…a siren’s wail.

Hey, Mr. Ostrich
why don’t you get your head
out of the sand
and take a look around?
Do you see starving people
at the bus depot,
have you noticed how thin
these people are?

“It’s none of my business.”

I walked down
the hollow hallways
as the empty vibrations
of decadence
rang in my ears,
I stopped in front of room 238
and was about to knock
when I heard her voice
through the cardboard door.

Nothing matters, she said,
life is empty and meaningless
it’s only sex, not love
it means nothing to me.

I could take you away
from the prison
of your life,
the walls
that restrain you,
break off those chains
that hold you down,
we can forge
a new wildlife.

My neighbours next door,
there’s Brad who’s got a gun
and his sister, Michelle,
a racist who puts down the blacks
while fucking them
in the alleyway,
Buddy’s not quite right
he’s a little slow,
the father’s a drunk
and the mother’s a whore
who offers it to me
for a few bucks.

“Spiders will crawl all over you
when you go to sleep”

Baby said Dada
everything’s going to be fine,
peaceful gentle humanity,
no – don’t look outside

(Nothing to see here
move along move along)

cigarette dangling
from chapped lips,
hat pulled down
over hairy brows,
quick glances
at his wristwatch

waiting
waiting

long overcoat
stained underarms
a bead of sweat
dangles from his nose
cigarette thrown
to the pavement

I don’t believe in suicide,
I believe in liver disease, alcohol
lung cancer, cigarettes,
and breaking my ankle
doing fancy pirouettes.

I used to write a poem a day,
now I realize, there’s nothing left to say,
burning, turning in bed at night
hoping one day I’ll see the light
now I know, now I know

Settle down in easy chairs grasping our butts
that become wider as television diplomacy
informs us of what to think, how to behave,
what to believe,
what not to believe.

If you’re sick you’re not thinking right
and where did you get those ideas?
not in this house you impervious bastard,
lazy and sodden, drunk and drugged,
watch the television you lucky bastard

I write cheques to my creditors,
as the world sleeps and dreams
of rich bungalow houses
and beautiful lawns
surrounded by golden pavement,
emanating from the soiled earth.

I write cheques to pay my debts
as people starve in the streets
and fight for survival
a warm place to sleep
as the world comes crashing
down around them.

Life is kinda lonely, when the rivers are low,
you know, John Prine told me so,
there is no secret, there is no mystery,
everybody struggles to be free,
a flower in the sewer captures my attention,
I pluck that flower, improve my situation

Streetlights flicker raindrops dance on concrete,
a mist hovers, faint screams echo the silence,
junkies search for invisible veins to prick,
a lonely prostitute asks me: “What do you want?”
a street preacher, he starts to sing:
“love is a dog, love is a dog from hell”

in my current state of mind
I wish he would, you know,
give me some cosmic assurance
as I put the downy in the rinse cycle,
I need some sort of 60’s rebellion
something to give me that passion
that I need – I’m listening
I’m listening hippie
I’m listening

So I put the quarters in the dryer
then the hippie jumps up on top of the counter
screaming: “It’s time brothers and sisters!
Rejoice for inner peace can be found within yourself!”

I’m floating through the heaven’s
with a halo on my head,
everybody’s dressed in white
and sleeping on clouds,
I could be dreaming
there could be a mistake.

C
Jesus, why’d you let me in
I’ve lived a life of sin

dystopian initializations
economic distractions
accumulation idolization
shaky foundations

stocks will fall & stocks will rise
lies are truth & truth are lies
orwell’s hell has come to life
trust me….

C
You ain’t got what we need
we need something
we don’t know what?