1. |
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The first song we all sing
Colic sobs to mom’s beat
“I was born at somewhat of a young age”
Said some dead guy
Then without consent
My head just kept getting upraised
Till I was adult size
Absurdly, thirty seemed old
Though as I grow older
The older older grows
So, it’s all downhill from here
Until it's an uphill fight
I’d indulge in a mid-life crisis
If I had a life
Do re mi fa so la ti do
Oh, slay me god or let me go
By the time she acquired her driver’s license
Mother sprung me
To commemorate this new plane of existence
I wet my onesie
But I’m maturer than then
Because now when I wet the bed
Its ejaculate instead
And yet descends
All downhill from here
I will die upon this hill
Distil the quill till the hill
Is built by syllables I spill
With tranquil will
I chisel it till it fills
This hill on which I will be killed
What a crowd!
How's the sound?
How about a solo now?
Am I as low as I can go?
Sans a plateau, that’s a fat no
ALL DOWNHILL FROM HERE
See the greener grass and pout
Or look upon the opposite lawn
Where their grass has gone
A jaw dropping ghastly brown
A packed crowd seizing their seats
Is the scene that he sees
As he sneaks a peek
From the alluring curtain seam
A black shroud hangs over him
Playing back all the hits
Like a bad record skip
In Sisyphus’s CD mix
Cause every end
Is just the beginning again
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2. |
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Nurse, make an incision
Let’s set it free
A kid deep in this woman
A womb in way too deep
Oh no, it’s an artist
My sympathies
Might I excise this varmint?
Save us all some grief
We’ll quarantine this disease
Peek through the curtain
Butterflies circling
Next on the bill of has-beens and have-nots
Passing the baton
He’s gonna be a showoff, you see
But the show must go on
Peek through the curtain
Ambition burning
Girds himself and takes a breath
Then a first hesitant step
Break a leg, kid
Knock ‘em dead
Don’t sweat it, you’ll do fine
Parting the cloth
He’s lost in light
What?
You wanna keep it?
That’s not advised
Well, fine, if you mean it
There’s things you need to sign
You should really rethink this
What are you high?
You know they don’t achieve them?
The dumb dreams in their mind
I’m not cracking wise here
Cause I know the type
In its quote unquote “life”
This parasite will try and will try
But will fail and then die
Cause you can’t cure starry eyes
Trips over the curtain
Into the light
Look, it thinks it’s a person
The nerve on this guy
But one thing for certain
Man’s greatest lie
Is that it will be worth it
If you give it the ol’ college try
The hope it will be even remotely alright
If all the world’s a stage
Then you should hang in the green room
Because when in womb
Do as the woman do
Oh hey, we maybe should mention
Every second you spend there
Is one less you get before the dreaded tomb
From your doom with a view
Backstage
Waiting to go on
Backstage
Audience applauds
They strum the chord
They cut it off
Backstage
Making its debut
Backstage
Waiting for the cue
Nuts to do what
It’s about to
Backstage
Baby, this’ll hurt
Backstage
Someday soon, you'll learn
Wish in one hand
See which fills first
Backstage
Nothing yet before
Backstage
All this could be yours
But you might get
What you ask for
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3. |
Baby Goes Back
04:11
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“I like big butts and I cannot lie
You other brothers can’t deny”
Yeah, that's an okay line
Sad to say it ain’t mine
Alas, I’m way too white
Besides, the slimy pile of fetishes
That I find myself infected with
Exclude a booty prurience
Need proof? Peruse my searches
Wait, ooh no, never mind
Oh, and I can lie
I do it all the time
Mostly to myself
The cannon blasts
The baby back in time
In frantic flashes that rewind
The life it leaves behind
Becky!
Everything that comes before the butt is bullshit, Becky!
But I hope that this will not imply
That I’m some kind of prudish guy
Or that I’ll be lumped in
With the bigots who debase
An erotic taste or race
Cause that’s dumb
Maybe I am just
Your conventional Caucasian
Deep disbelieve, when rarely
I hook-up in missionary
Ooh baby, I’m horribly timid
Approaching women
(He's horribly timid approaching women)
The hormones vie to swarm me
But then like in gym class
I’m not scoring
If you’re assuming
My motivation for making music was
To see groupies
I don’t know, if so then sue me
A more substantial
Reasoning or rationale
That my pen can vent
Is that it lent a shred of self-respect
But I see upon the screen
All the hits in history
And the fad in fashion when I was hatched
Was a crass rap track
So, ladies
Fellas
Is the past something you tend to dwell on?
Then float above while looking down
As a white boy’s peeking out
Baby goes back
Baby goes back
A song about bottoms sat atop the chart
Number one the summer mother’s bun was done
Suspended up above mom
A specter floated aloft
As MTV was on
Ah, I wonder what
She made of all the butts
Flashing on the screen
The cannon blasts
The baby back in time
Synapses haphazardly ply
The eye with random slides
A last-ditch cry to this guy
To stay alive
Despite the mind’s decline
Rewinding through the hindsight fuzz
I need no reminder of those butts
When the lady looks up
A shape is hanging above
But cause that’s crazy
She does a double-take
And it’s gone
Where’d that baby come from?
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4. |
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There’s no rhyme or reason I can see
That of legions of semen that dream to be me
I get to be
It’s all thanks to sex
Alright, I confess
We’re less acquainted than I would choose
But you are due a solute
Have you ever wondered how we ended up with you?
(Have you wondered how we ended up with you?)
Picture a lineup where a monkey turns into a naked dude
(Monkeys turning into naked dudes)
Picture Abbey Road: John is you
Willing to bet that it might be connected to sex
Okay, maybe, yes
I guess it’s pretty safe to assume
That we are into what you do
The world you imbue
I traded sleep for screen
Latex, gay sex, wasted seed
Tissue stained with wasted me
That’s okay
Do we really need more of these?
Make no more of me
They mean so little
They are so trivial
I mean no offense
Or crass intent
Just recognition of how coition
Makes existence run
Ovens burst with buns
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5. |
Wake Up
06:30
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Time to wake up
The rooster roar
The tortured scorching sky
The rude shampoo and sun
Collude to shove
Pollutants into eyes
The soggy Cap'n Crunch
The groggy coffee grind
The ennui rut
The kiss goodbye
Time to wake up
Look behind
The starting line in view
When nothing wasn’t new
Everything there is remains
The days array and
Wait to be accrued
All of it left to do
Soon what we construe as you
Will make its clueless debut
Awaken with sleep snot in your eye
With an unsightly film of phlegm
That breached the teeth and climbed
With little REM
But not the Mike Stipe kind
With a hairstyle that might
Make a mad scientist sigh
Mr. Tambourine Man, sing for me
Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream
Mr. Ambien Man, do your thing
My room is full of stuff
The flaming racecar bed
The blanket Grandma made
The stain the spaghetti left
The top bunk I fell off
The comic books I bought
The burnt CD with
Unlawfully gotten songs
Poster of The Rock
Box of LEGO blocks
Broken ring I broke
Mom thought was lost
Time to wake up
The tongueless floss
The sock that lost a twin
The pillow dribbles spit
The emaciated toothpaste
The hairbrush itself could use some groomin’
The sobbing faucet sniffs
The klepto couch is getting rich
The talkative toilet lid
Awaken with sleep snot in your eye
With an unsightly film of phlegm
That breached the teeth and climbed
With little REM
But not the Mike Stipe kind
With a hairstyle that might
Make a mad scientist sigh
Mr. Tambourine Man, sing for me
Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream
Mr. Ambien Man, do your thing
Wakey, wakey, come and make me
Naked, shaky, pate is achy
Rise and shine, hive mind o’ mine
I think you’ll find the weather’s fine
Well, not if you like being dry
But don’t you hide, stride out in pride
No time like the present, right?
Even if your life’s in strife
Dog died? Despise your wife?
In spite of jive, ride with the tide
Oh, I’m sure when that alarm went off
You hit the snooze so hard it
Shattered like a missile target
Scared to blare, lest it be impaired again
You don the hated garment
Microwave an egg and scarf it
Ladies, germs, gents and larva
Demos of the ad department
It’s Morning Zoo with you know who
And ooh-wee-ooh, here’s breaking news
It’s mayhem in the AM
Oh, this traffic is a circus
If you’re going off to work
It’s a nightmare on I-90
I’d keep some wine beside me
With how little I’d be driving
To all the coffee zombies
Slogging down the foggy road
Or to those of you at home
Loading up a cup o’ Joe
Try to take it smooth and slow
As you grow from utero
The chickens roost, the cows come home
The creatures reap what we have sewn
A bird in hand is two in bush
If you kill them with one stone
The stroke of midnight was the time
The 25 of that July
In 92, the Falling Sioux
The ICU was sterilized
The only roof I occupied
While never having gone inside
Mom had hardly learned to drive
Before I glided through her thighs
Grandma cried, “He’s gone awry”
But it was just the labor slime
Who knew it was true
If you do what the youth
Has been groomed not to do
Too much, you will go blind
I'm a decade older now than mom was
When they shouted IT’S ALIVE
The idea of being tied
To a whiny child
I confide, is quite a mighty fright
You’d be high, if you described
My life as the desirable, admirable type
I guess I’m slightly bright, but why
Would I inspire a thriving mind?
I barely stand myself upright
I can’t be liable for a life
I won’t be ripe in ten years time
Christ, beside the ten behind
It would be a lie, if I
Were to imply I’m qualified
To be the guy a pair of eyes
Tiny, spying, open wide
Should analyze or scrutinize
Or frighteningly idolize
To pry advice to utilize
To strive to go by my design
To inquire how and why
For some reply that satisfies
My pizza slice’s grease is wiped
On jammies with an open fly
Whoa, okay, I’m sorry, folks
To go expose these broken bones
But don’t be mopey, mouth a-foaming
Hoping by the radio
This croaking host forgoes his crowing
Growing stony, you’re approaching
Loathing for this blowhard blowing
And so monotonely droning
On and on and on he’s going
I’d be so pleased, if he’d only stop
So let not it be intoned
This host postponed the show he’s hosting
There won’t be no more withholding
Swear it on my very soul
Because here are the closures, folks
We owe to slowly lowering snow
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6. |
Snow Day
04:21
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They let us out on parole
Cause the scrolling closures
On the local morning show said so
Bacon stains pajama pants
God Almighty, we are free at last
Someone above has
Bestowed a bonus day
Snow day
What luck to just exist
To know the frozen glow of
Snow day
Lovely to be shoveling
Lovely to just be human
You could live forever
But it wouldn’t ever
Get better than this
Snow day
Our jaws drop with the weather
Just in awe of descending splendor
Lacking an adequate word
To express the extent of this mirth
Despite singular pleasure
Time ignites memory to embers
Then some stormy December
These grownups we sort of resemble
Will see nothing special
Gallant seal of pristine sleet
Perfect like peanut butter
Before the knife digs deep
Valiant flakes are falling down
But the sun is scheming to reveal the ground
A couple snowplows
And all of it will fade
Snow day
Hooray for ignorance
Hooray precipitation
Snow day
For this crisp, exquisite bliss
If only then we knew it
You could live forever
But it wouldn’t ever
Get better than this
Before you know it the hands of time
Will trade a box of juice for a box of wine
Before your eyes, your eyes will be older eyes
Your snow angels will turn into chalk outlines
Snow day
Grip this before it slips:
No day’s quite so okay as
Snow day
Before the cynicism wins
Before the pure is putrid
You will scavenge after dragons
Scratching savagely
At some phantom itch
Snow day
We pray we won’t forget
But blowing snowflakes won’t stay
Snow day
Try as we may to resist
Too dumb to face the music
You could live forever
But it wouldn’t ever
Get better than this
Cherish every moment
Everyone you spend
Is one less you get
Snow day
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7. |
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I can’t wait till I get older
I’ll stay up late and won’t have homework
Every day it’s getting closer
As the days go by
The calendar pages fly
I can’t wait till I get older
Big and strong and a bit bolder
Could the clock move any slower?
Up the winding stair
Look, I’m almost there
Will you sign my yearbook?
Have a bitchin’ summer, dude
Let’s hang over break
I wish I’d gotten to know you
Better than I do
Don’t ever change
Don’t be a stranger
I can’t wait till I’m a grown-up
Get back all A’s because I boned up
I’ll graduate and do my own stuff
Hear the shifting gears
That count the sprinting of years
I can’t wait till I get older
Pizza eating record-holder
Leading NASA space explorer
As the moments flow
Watch me grow and grow
I can’t wait till I’m an adult
Baby molars all are removed
This phase will pass where I’m such a dolt
Trade stroller for a used Subaru
I’ll understand stuff with no trouble
Big and little hands are flying
Plunging grains of sand are piling
All that baby stuff subsiding
Pinch my face
Get my raise
Dig my grave
I can’t wait till I get older
Mortgage payments, brain disorders
Engagements, babies, other horrors
Oh, the things you’ll fear
As it shambles near
I can’t wait till I get older
Standing on an ancient shoulder
In the eye of the beholder
As the thick fog clears
Oh, dear God, it’s here
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8. |
Ballad of Being Born
05:28
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Everybody dies
You, your mom, and I
Oh, come on, don’t cry
It’s your birthday
You won’t know the date
That your scythe awaits
As you eat your cake
The reaper slays
99% of all the life that ever lived is dead
In essence, you’re a nonconformist corpse
99% of all the life that ever lived is dead
Essentially, we’re carcasses
That don’t deign to die yet
Blow those candles out and make a wish
What?
He’s growing up
He should know this stuff
You coddle him too much
It’s disgusting
I thought as his dad
I could tell him that
Somehow I’m the bad guy
Or something
99% of all the life that lived is dead
In essence, you’re a nonconformist corpse
99% of all the life that lived is dead
Essentially, we’re skeletons
That dare to draw a breath
That are just too stubborn to submit
A pinch to grow an inch
Honestly, you're still barely standin’
Pin the tail on the donkey
When it dawns on me who the ass is
You’re the ass, kid
For he’s a jolly good fellow
But he will still go to hell though
Guts spill out of piñatas
As God looks down and mocks us
Oh God, will you just…
So what if I’m drunk
Just cause I’m buzzed
Doesn’t make me not right
But cause he’s a kid
We should lie to him
He should get gifts if he merely survives
You still exist: here’s a new bike
99% of all the life that ever lived is dead
In essence, you’re a nonconformist corpse
Your time is nigh
99% of all the life that lived is dead
Essentially, we’re carcasses
That haven’t carcassed yet
Get shot wishing on a shooting star
Blow out candles, you’ll be in the dark
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9. |
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My room is full of stuff
A fine museum to junk
My room’s a looted husk
I climb into the truck
I was never good at goodbye
Not that bye is all that good
The one sign that the room was mine
Are some lines across the wood
Caress the fading escalating lines
Where mom would carve my height
Before I flick the switch to kill the light
A new one lit inside
I’m standing in the frame
The future mine to take
Before I walk away
I sigh a quiet thanks
Sailing on the sea of traffic
Tattered roadmap steers the ship
All we ever get to live in
Is the moment that we’re in
Cause every end’s the beginning again
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