Embracing a Haunted Culture The Routine Problem Solved - download the mp3 You Can't Apologize for Time What Was Sa(i)d Being Human Magic Tea Party - download the mp3 The Palisade Ugly Face Lost Eyes The Crawling Air

Embracing a Haunted Culture
She is the sky. She on the wind. She rides the air.
Lost in wanting, and we keep talking.
But all I hear is the middle, in our middle.
If this were the middle, lost in our middle.
Here we see the excitement. In empty thrones with no royalty.
Filling voids where steps have already settled.
All of these, sit next to you and me.
Or maybe it's we, now understand the middle in stories.
Here we see the under-minded.
How promising, and ugly, this beauty relies on grouping.
Here we see the excitement, in empty thrones filled with royalty.
Falling where thoughts have always settled.
She is the sky I see.......

The Routine
It's just OK. Will today be a fun day?
In this wonderful come and go.
Waiting for the light to fall.
I'm in the routine. Knee deep in the routine.
With empty hands. In the routine.
Waiting on the start of another empty day, to shine on.
I'm in the routine. With empty hands,
Knee deep in comfort. In this routine.
It's just OK. Will today be a fun day?
Waiting for the light to fall in this wonderful come and go.
Where it's just OK, filling up empty days.
Watching the light shine.
I think I'll wake up, to gravity's explanation
of the swaying of Father Time's Individual Misunderstanding.
(Something clocks will never tell) But who cares!!!
Especially when there are tits,
pointing at cocks, pointing at dark, dark, places,
more often then not owned by assholes.
Who all are part of this troubling routine.
Now who wants more?

Problem Solved
This is about how we're hiding from ourselves,
trying to grow by running away.
This is about solving problems with leaps and bounds,
keeping distance in equations.
I have a new contact now,
the old one didn't work out.
And I have a new address now,
a state away from that other town I grew up in.
Is it a problem putting miles between problems?
So what if you're down the street.
I hide underneath a house,
from everything.
That's how I solve problems.
No news is no news.
That's how I solve problems.
Let's talk about what's private.
That's how I solve problems.
How about a chase,
where we just run away from ourselves.
Let's just run into ourselves.
Let's just walk away, from all this running away.
This is about running away from problems,
until we're good and ready to stop.
Where we can talk it all out.
Until we're ready to walk away from all this running away.
Seems like a good way to solve problems.

You Can't Apologize for Time
Of course it's ever changing,
I remember when we ran fast.
Here it drags,
and I can always feel it in my intestines.
When the other day I had a smile on my face.
Never certain why the sun shined my way.
I hear manic depression can swallow our soul,
which one is next? Who's next?
And it's ever changing. The moments come off with waves.
Always ever changing. The beach pulls out another little part.
Where it's ever changing. This room is full of one minute smile.
Always ever changing. I see long time friends with short term partners.
Maybe I just wrote things backwards again.
I see short term friends with long term partners.
In this hate fucking rape date.
Chocking life out of my eyes.
With every single blackened hair.
In our little wonderland of half truths.
I'm sorry I can't apologize for time....

What Was Sa(i)d
What she said. What he said.
That's what was said.
And it's not going to save the world.
No, we're not going to save the world.
Please don't touch. There are some stories we'll never share.
Bright red signs in a yellow blistering sky.
Dark red lines bathing in deep, deep, yellow eyes.
Full of true blue sighs drowning within our mothers' lies.
Light pinks swell and expand under florescent light.
No, we're not going to save the world.
And that's sad.
Was she sad? Was he sad?

Being Human
It's in helpless pools of being human.
Eating and breathing all words used.
In the yes and noes of being human.
We don't need to meet.
When our meat is playing in pools.
Body fluids dragging feet.
We three and four want more, always more.
Through the paradox of today.
Being human we speak of me, and you, and me.
Stealing memories so I can see we how it pleases me.
She opposes, she sows. Lives together but each other know.
Condemned hands at either side. Her's and mind.
Did we move the time just right?
I moved too subtle and I moved too slight.
Did we move together tonight?
I can't stop to watch the way we move.
Too troubled to keep hands off guns.
Stacking bricks, beating drums.
With hands on mind, and lives invitation.
I'm spilling memories so I can see we how it pleases me.
I'm spilling memories to please me.
In the yes and noes of being human.

Magic Tea Party
Clocks move in the pupils we once swam.
Where tear glands release the sands.
Pop icons swim and the babies just float.
And I'd like to give them all a rope, to swing from.
Not today where magic cities tan on our beach.
Climb between pillows for lips.
Hot breath coils on each blue vain.
Smearing where trains ran every other stay.
Not today where magic cities tan.
Climb up beneath what friends we have left.
Eccentric big hearts, eclectic smooth hands.
She blows wind and the sand.
Not today where magic castles stand.
Where we can take it all in.
The too much of too much.
Being not quite enough, and perfect.
Where we can take it all in.
Not today in this magic garden.
Where the wind falls.
Where the weeds root.
Where the soil lives.
Where we can take it all in.
The too much of too much.
Being not quite enough, and perfect.
Where the insects throw smashing tea parties.

The Palisade
In stasis there's a moving,
far more troubling when the lights go out.
Little crowds of lust in love
(because there's no one real enough for our love)
with themselves.
A dance of eyes roll over, when the lights go out.
Little crowds of lust in love
(we live to fill holes with our dying opinions)
with themselves.
And we dance on broken tulip pedals.
Sparkles in sand.
Press and warm rivers, of tigers menstruating layers.
Engineered to float this holly horror,
where palisades are built.
Inside one another.
Dropped and pulled, in mud and gutters.
An image of space, untold brothers.
Alongside built, one another.
Inside bodies, through mountains of water.

Ugly Face
Originally by Nina Nastasia

Lost Eyes
Distance keeps moving, where lost eyes project,
all and one, into obscure detail.
Lost in eyes.
Clenching broken teeth where bodies weep.
Over trembling shoulders circles swallowing sex.
Comforting chemicals melt with small stacked rocks.
Pawing lust pulling sheets where satellites reach.
I in I. Eyes lost in eyes. We try and grow.
I am not strong. I am not weak. I am not anything.
Repeat after me:
I am one and all.
I am the sun.
I am empty or other,
falling, rising,
in lost eyes.
Lost in eyes.

The Crawling Air
Breathe through all this crawling air.
Where we are all one. The living dying air.
Breathe through all this crawling air.
This is where we sigh. Melancholy time.
Simple enough to move through
the others waiting in line.
The moment of your's and mind.
It's all crawling again.
And I know when somethings looking,
through these piss-stained eyes.
It's in the broken grass.
Souls eyes and lips (the dead stories).
Where the soil waits to swallow us,
one by one.
Breathe, open, and breathe.
Breathe, open, and breathe.
Breathe, open, and breathe.
Breathe.....