Freak folk life destruction
I have to create music. I write and record the music I want to listen to. When I finish an album I give copies away for free. Hopefully someone finds something in it that they think is important too.
Lyrics
Nothing on the radio matters, the TV's just a box of mouths
and all of them pontificate on what they think they've got to say.
If tongues could only walk the vegetables outside the box. . .
Where is the rest, a fraction of the action, I'm afraid
a disembodied head is always all talk:
Saying nothing, spitting at your white-noise g-spot.
Bleed me, leave me, always they retrieve me,
slice me up and read me, i forgot
what i swore I won't do anymore.
it takes a lot to make my eyelids drop.
call the nurse, tell her each day is worse.
and with the evening swells the sick refrain.
the perfect way that my organs decay,
the perfumed rot that eats my brain.
My muscles sing, my skeleton wrings
my hard-earned poisonous things out of every ending.
. . . screaming at the ceiling: "Say something, say something!"
tackling pedestrians and bludgeoning with knuckles while I scream something, fight something, use my tongue to write something.
In the studio live with all my hostages, now play something.
Cutting deep persuasions in the CEO to sing something.
Bursting into church while they're obeying god to numb something.
Religion is the enemy of man's divine blood, we are one,
millions brought together in death we will
become something, be something.
Say something, say something!
[repeat first verse]
