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1. |
Song of the Gun
02:30
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Song of the Gun
November 30, 1991
black, cold rolled steel
riffled bore and soulless metal
this is the song of the gun
he lies there, unmoving
victim of his own undoing
unrecognizable -
a chiseled grey forty-four -
custom grade his weapon -
so goes the first verse
those who take the other path
no longer happy with any old world
in the street we find a second
victimized by those who like the gun had no souls
shot in darkness
metal from the barrel of a walnut forty-four -
his long walk became a longer walk
out into the night
so goes the second verse
those eliminated for what they are
where then the end, a wrong place
in another home the third is found
victim of a wife who knew full well his actions
left him for another, left him crumpled against the bedroom wall
again tailored killing of the favorite weapon
another grey and heavy forty-four -
so goes the third verse
those killed for prior action
revenge as its own justification -
he cried out his sorrows on his last breath
we find the fourth in a heap
lying among thousands on a battlefield
taken down by an army of might
victim of yet another somehow just cause
and a last black forty-four -
as with all the others he knows now nothing
simply packs his thoughts and sets out
down the longer road to night
so goes the fourth, the final verse
those killed by the strong for the will of the world
in each sung verse I clink to madness
falling from my calm nest
as I see what the world can do
and call right -
there is no justification needed today
for the fools we have become
just stepping into the firing line
willingly -
into the arms of flame and thunder
quietly children
I'll sing you the song of the gun
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2. |
And There It Goes Again
00:40
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And There it Goes Again
November 29, 1991
the smell of gunpowder
burning, reaches me
rising from my kitchen table
uh boy -
my land mine is on fire
time to run...
I reach the living room
just as my kitchen table commits pretty suicide all over the place
hell -
fresh polish blown to smithereens
the second time this week
and worse yet inside
maybe
just maybe
my parents could have been right -
make it better than all the rest, they'd said
but not while cooking breakfast
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3. |
Over Disunion
00:39
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Over Disunion
December 2, 1991
I feel I'm falling
I'm dancing on air
free floating and flying
who cares?
the rest of the world can go on without me
I stay here where never can anyone touch me
I go on -
shall we end the silence?
I see that you are not like me
you set out as you will and take what comes
so be it
this is why I call you friend
differences all part of the game
made one of life and dropped
like falling
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4. |
Once Remembered
00:41
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Once Remembered
Dec 11, 1991
to my author
to you who always hurts
as your words cut to the bone
you twist all I have
til I have compulsion
I should look up to you
but the delineation is clear
between kind and kin
I swear
no matter cuttings
and parings far down the branch
the anger must be contained
as must I - son, anger
becomes anguish
at a turn
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5. |
To You Who Knows
00:47
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To You Who Knows
December 12, 1991
this is something I find to be interesting
something I find within myself
I am happy with those I can talk to
those I can disagree with and not hate
those I can relax with
let what I am show through this shell without protection
dance or spar near fatality without fear
for fear is the limiting factor
hardening people to life
beyond the necessary
when I meet someone I can talk to
be safe around
then happiness is simplicity
those one can sleep with
simply sleep
without waiting for the knife
allow existence
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6. |
Viewfinder
01:04
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Viewfinder
December 16, 1991
my conclusion is drawn from power
a power not my own
a simple observation of the usage of might
that armies rise and fall like canes
civilizations crashing to chaos in their wake
one less people, one less race
one less place to call your own
you will find out if you look out
into the dank cold world
there is nothing
just sandy waste
but everybody wants to rule the world
take it with them to their graves
everybody wants to call the world their own for keeps
though all is darkness, all is shadows
as on the plains dust storms rise
carbon dioxide no longer atlanticly absorbed
all the problems
no one answer
just a little fight for power
no care in this last dying hour
everybody pushing to rule the world
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7. |
Wire Guide
01:59
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Wire Guide
December 11, 1991
one two three
jump -
red light
tonight
gotta get out of here
ain't got no way to plot my flight
can't I get out of here -
gotta run
out to tomorrow
try to hide
out in the hedge rows
duck from the serpents
meant long to chase me
you may find but you can never touch me
send your need
send your disease
in my path to breathing
cast in the night
block my flight
I'm not carefree for nothing, you know
just duck out onto the open road
tonight
red light
tonight
gotta get out of here
ain't got no way to plot my flight
but I live to get out of here
now it's done
cold to the marrow
second sign
here come the shadows
hide in the darkness
from you last calling
I can't brace against a sky that's falling
take back your need
extract disease
one lost in night
I lost my light
I'm not carefree for nothing you know
just taking refuge outside the asylum
it's bright
red light
tonight
gotta get out of here
blind down the path of second sight
only just now free from here
conquered fear
conquered hate
now I've broken out of here
broke down the night
believed my first sight
now I've closed out my last fear
now I've broken out of here
but you're still here
in here
and though it's light out on the road
it's cold
so very cold out here
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8. |
Identity
01:02
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Identity
December 16, 1991
I am the curator in my museum of memories
here I walk alone
look at the dusty thoughts upon my shelves
and talk to them in my dreams
here I see through the looking glass
out into a field of unending night
dotted on it's plain are promises I have forgotten
those I left behind
each exhibit a part of me
a glance confirms a place or a person I have known
and though it's all in random order now
I thought I once knew all
strange that age has taken over from immortality
placing a veil of fog across some exhibits
obscuring totally others
I am my memories
an expression of my being
when these fade away to nothing
there is nothing -
I cease to be
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9. |
Song of Dawning
01:11
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Song of Dawning
December 17, 1991
I dance about
throw myself across my living room
can't believe the joy of the day
'cause it's all right
all right
sun just rose beyond the night
today is somehow a glorious day
woke up in the morning as I seem to do so often
jumped from my bed to greet the day
couldn't believe how the sun shone so brightly
down upon the snow today...
...on in this crap fashion
I danced about my brain that day
came up with this stupid poem
and on it went la la la la
for rather a long time la la
please forget you ever read it
blah blah blah blah
blah... (Where did you learn to drive?)
but it felt good to write
white heat and all that jive
nice to be alive, just shut your bloody gob
wot?
la la la la
la... (Where did you learn to drive?)
some people have an amazing attention span
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10. |
Survivor
01:19
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Survivor
December 17, 1991
I'm waiting - waiting for the lightning
sent from the sky - coming to get me
in my bunker - it grows colder
night folds in on us - like a hunter child
I'm waiting - waiting for the cattle trucks
sent from the barrens - take my people away
in the ghettos - we are starving
watch the iron cross - take up our children in its arms
I'm waiting - waiting for the mushroom cloud
sudden sunburn - wipe away my city
broken hearted - broken bodies
line the city walls - armed to the teeth
I'm waiting - waiting for the holocaust
and the aftermath - of a world at war
it grows colder - day by day now
who could stop them anyhow
we tried to fight - but it's summer now
we could not fight
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11. |
Sorrow's Song
02:01
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Sorrow's Song
December 17, 1991
this time I know I'm all alone
that there's no one left to turn to in this colossal waste
I look out across the sand
see the sunrise orange fingers
spreading across my morning sky
see a white flash join the dawn
my silence broken by this sudden song of night
I watch the cloud rise from the plain
feel the heat waves join my pain in the blinding light
nowhere to turn, nowhere to run
the song and dance of the world has come undone today
I watch the wave of light
come my way from the shadows of early morning
feel it rip my soul apart
had nothing from the start I suppose, so anyway
there is nothing left
thought it was the start of a new day - no
flesh blows off my broken bones
one dark afterimage left in my pleading eyes
don't leave me all alone here
I don't know where the world is going to go to
but the flash signs it is done
the desert ripples as the war has begun again
this time no thousands writhe in pain, good
the world is left in peace today, mankind in pieces
who gave a damn about it anyway, not you or I
though it was we could have stopped the carnage
and when it's over peace will rain
watch the heat waves dance in no one's vision, none are left to see
there is nothing left but ocean and a steady blacking rain
sheeting down from the sky on a barren of ashes and diamond
glaring without sun, on nothing
peace remains
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12. |
Reversal
01:36
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Reversal
December 18, 1991
I cried alone
the guard only comes down then
outside of the others
a symbol of insecurity I suppose
I almost never laugh
not really -
differentiation between social
and actual
I never get angry
without ever stopping,
I never get angry
- liar -
just sway back and smile
tight face and chameleon
never pressing
alone
so different
burning for hours
running until I cannot
stop burning
immaculate fire
perfection in the flames
within a nothing hurting world
inverse reflection somehow
cold beyond tempering
steeling
never relax
judgment fades so -
reactions step ahead of thought
intensity beyond perfection
restrained control
fright
it's a fine line
between this and that side of sanity
comforting myself from time to time
that destruction was dead simple to learn
and easy, like forgetting
like silence
waiting suffices sometimes
hiding in a shell of someone I created
mostly on purpose by accident
hoping for a weakness in myself
I might exploit
such a funny game
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13. |
||||
Help, or Something Less, Akin
December 18, 1991
she had told him no
not once
but repeatedly
swearing she'd been pure -
he became part of her
pushing inward like he'd had practice
she came to ask me why, tears in her eyes
could take no comfort, afraid to be touched
again, ever, I had no answer
and she wouldn't tell me his name
the hurt's supposed to fade in a year
but the flicker's still in her eyes like a scar
right across the cornea, a cat's vertical slit
and you almost can't help staring
at her neck when she talks
because her voice changed too
when she screamed her larynx apart
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14. |
Atom
00:50
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Atom
December 13, 1991
the world kicks and screams
whirls and dashes my hopes away
running like blood, my tears
when I see this - place - left over
falling through my fingers
dreams like broken glass
I step out onto the obsidian horizon
walk around the edges of a crystal bowl
nearly a mile across, holding poisoned water
down near the bottom, reservoir of tears
all the broken dreams lying glazed
in this hole that was a pasture
beautiful
that destruction can be a polished thing
blue black iridescence like burned copper
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15. |
Final Line
00:46
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Final Line
January 2, 1992
we are afraid of death
minimize it as the long sleep -
a change of plane -
a journey to some higher god -
unable to accept any finality
that there may be no absolution
cringing pious
promising some hard god
good and right
lest we be dragged down
I could care less of the end
it's likenesses or distance
but death comes like a thief to my night
takes all I know
all I cared for
leaving me with earth
dirt cage for my fears in the night
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16. |
Losing Battle
01:17
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Losing Battle
January 2, 1992
I am receding
sometime going out of touch
loosing firm control
sleeping during the day now
waking at night to an empty house
nothing to loose
by sleep
cleaning what trash
I can - by doing
becoming, regardless
cycle - replacing trash
insane
my companions
drowning in their
shallow thoughts
unwilling to free
themselves
I'd sleep
to hid, to sleep
perchance - but analogy
like Shakespeare, is
simply
words on a page
they
hurt each
other of themselves
behind my smile
a facade to escape
sleep to escape
to dream
and nothingness
each other
hurting
room
silent bed
crushed by the fat bass
layering in sound
drowning out the hurt
shivering loud and ready
for night to come
slippery quiet
home
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17. |
Identity
01:04
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Identity
January 4, 1992
I am me
nothing can change this
decisions are mine to make
limited by social convention
or fear of loosing pace
but the choice itself
the act
is me
you may have my body
break it up, devour
but pain is a delicate friend of mine
in a crucible of my own torture
I remain clear of mind
beware
those who guard their freedom closely
memory alone can stand so firm
that my father's father fought before me
I'll never let his hopes die
of memory forlorn
you may remove my solitude
but smashed and dying
barely breathing
I remain free
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18. |
Entrance
00:30
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Entrance
January 4, 1992
blackness
contemplation of nothing
nothing in here but a void in the dark
warmth and comfort
soft sounds
pressure
like
being born
each day begins
with pain akin to knife
stabbing light
ideal
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19. |
Kewarf
00:26
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Kewarf
January 4, 1992
I've always known caring as warmth
someone to hold or hold me
someone I can tell my tales
help to laugh in the dark
but now
though I create shelter
comfort in life's night
I cannot shelter myself
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20. |
Foolhardy
00:32
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Foolhardy
January 4, 1992
many are those who profess undying love
many are the promises spoken softly in the night
and many are the broken hearts
those used and left abandoned
and many are the simple folk who share
many are the simple fools who cannot say I'm sorry
so many people shattered by a burden two could bear
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21. |
Out Take
00:32
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Out Take
January 4, 1992
when there is nothing left in this cold world
but hunger, disease, war, and death
and the tanks hold the enemy just clear of my town
when there's nothing left but agony
as terminal condition
no hope
I'll step out onto the longer road to night
prey to come upon a better place
and feed me there
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22. |
From Broken Minds
00:39
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From Broken Minds
January 7, 1992
in a darkened mental corridor I run
talk talk talk
away
from the argument
inside my head
they tell me that I'm dying
ruin and rage before passing
no time
in a world that has no hold on me
ephemeral to the corruption
cornered in a mental cell
talk talk talk
alone and some voices
I ruin
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23. |
Blockage
00:28
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Blockage
January 12, 1992
I am sitting in my winter clothing passing bits of prose and poetry
watching as the right words take their place with passing time
looking to see if anything falls like logic in my mind
finding that though I talk aloud I never admit a single thing
just write it down as poetry to pass away the time
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24. |
Evil Eye
00:50
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Evil Eye
January 12, 1992
society has an evil lie
one not often held in check by reason
it is for this that the Nazis lived
it is for this that the Jews were killed
not one body in a casket
I watch my country
I watch my town even
and am amazed
if society says a thing is wrong
so it must be
where then are the Catholics and the Protestants?
brothers in arms alone?
killing each other over belief
which by its nature can't be changed
since nothing can change a basic nature
so why the killing?
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25. |
Evil Eye II
00:40
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Evil Eye II
January 12, 1992
the deviation has a lesser scale
than man can't love a man
society and its scales of justice
span and fall short, spin and fail
you can talk about anyone
categorized by deviation from the mean
but society is anyone's power of speaking
telling the rest that faith is no more than listening
when after all, faith needs no proof
and even dis-proven oft stands
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26. |
Ice
00:41
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Ice
January 13, 1991
close together
but far apart
no more room
for talking
when all there was
to talk about
has passed
lost to time
steel blue haze
where words used
to come from
close to heart
now all
hearing
lies
two lovers
close
but torn
apart
leavings like
scars of time
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27. |
March On
02:06
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March On
January 12, 1992
in our gilded cage
we reason sifted change
pressed against the bars
we wait
summer's come and gone
winter's coming on
nothing we can do
but rage
and though the night is long
we are growing strong
we come into our own
today
can't stop us now
a rolling stone pushes an avalanche
repressed for far too long
this is the coming dawn
our power grows with every step we take
and though the enemy slays to halt us
our numbers carry on the dead
every single one a martyr to our cause
we carry on
every single movement taken
leads the past to be mistaken
everyone has a move they have to make
in the end all bonds will break
all shackles fall by the bitter way
all armaments tossed aside into the wind
in our gilded cage
we feel the seasons' change
pressed against the bars
we wait
summer's come and gone
and though winter's coming on
we all taste the freedom
today
when all our pride is gone
the feeling pushes strong
we will all be free
today
(Son of a whore, wasn't that a Scorpions song?)
|
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28. |
When You Fly
01:44
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When You Fly
January 17, 1992
it isn't me
it isn't me
dream in my head spinning
cycling down
twisting and trysting
pouring fire
ripping down my nerve canal
nothing left
but nothing done
dream inside my head remains
it isn't me
but it can't be you
called down the angels
destroying angels
as we kick to drop the next one
the world within my head is breaking
and the dream it cycles down
flipping twitching
something lies dying
sinking in a bed of fears
screaming out of anger surely
out of control on a long black highway
the dream it cycles down
here come the angels
here come the angels
friend lend your hand to one in need
for a friend leaves not a friend in doing
thrusting friendship trusting
you are not you
it isn't me
I know it's you
see the skies spin roundabout
twitching and screaming
at a liquid horizon
electric current in my brain
fire at the ends of nerves
please cut the power cord
watch the fires while away their time
everything falls down
run away -
run away -
I am not me
I am not you
crawling across me
tickling like feathers
stay away -
no more bliss
no sweet retreat
and the dream it cycles down
|
||||
29. |
Silent Eyes
02:03
|
|||
Silent Eyes
January 18, 1992
baby went a running in the pouring rain
think she's found her answers
but I'm the one to blame
look into her eyes, fires in those lakes
only accusation
nothing left in place
thought I'd join her running in the pouring rain
help her find some answers
but I'm the one to blame
nothing left between us
nothing left of friends -
thought you'd found your answer
but there's nothing left to hold you back
flinch away from the pain my darling
if you can't take it
set across the seas of flames
if you can make it
no answer written across the burning skies tonight
for those eaten by the dark
spin away from the pain
went and took a run in the pouring rain
told me you'd gone swimming with the sharks in the sea of pain
I wonder what became of you
when you went and ate yourself
no one left to love you'd said
couldn't trust anyone else
I thought I could tell her
that the night is all that's left to me
I hadn't found her answers
but she didn't need to fall away
darling is there nothing true with rain?
baby went a running in the pouring rain
couldn't find her answers
and I'm the one to blame
all she's left are ashes
sitting on a shelf
nothing I could tell her
no longer trust myself
baby went a running in the pouring rain
dove into the silent waters we call the fields of Hades
nothing much left to me buy crying in the night
perhaps I'll join her running in the rain
|
||||
30. |
Arms
00:45
|
|||
Arms
January 21, 1992
I am only in denial --
mystery masker of double talk
maker of mind and hidden emotions
creation of a coated shell to hide away within
and nothing changes my premonitions
as I blink these cold glass eyes
my face a master of still water
I hide away within
I see a place where nothing changes
here within my mold
interaction with the outside
but they never can look in
I tried to open a window
but the light stays locked away out there
|
||||
31. |
Not...
00:38
|
|||
Not . . .
January 20, 1992
I dreamed I saw a man
running from his sorrows
across a desert in his mind
he charged until his legs stopped
then crawled
spent and tired he crashed within
problems unchanged
and so it is we all run
across the face of the world
oblivious
nothing changes
but we keep on running
'til like the fallen we devalue
dragged down by our sorrows
never changed
|
||||
32. |
To the Trusting
02:12
|
|||
To The Trusting
January 8, 1992
I look out at my world
see it all cold to the core
that every belief is being stripped away
too many people what hate
without knowing why they do
reasons abounding
and all that matters is the emotion
how it builds
like the battleship clouds before the storm
cold, threatening
rising higher than the eye can follow
what has become of this world?
I remember Afghanistan from what I read in books
about how the people in the tunnels waited hours on end
while the Soviet troops poured gas in trickles
down through the drainage system
patient while letting the vapors build
then striking flame, not even bothering
with the terms and conditions of a surrender
that was never to be an option -
I inherited their photographs
black and white faces
lost behind a mechanical wall of silence
their situation little more than tactics
I remember the smaller scale
words of hurt cast reflexively through crowds
bustling about in New Orleans, jazz musicians
blowing their horns, sometimes taking a quarter
or a knife in the gut, blowing their blues
and the blues were about endings and losses
but lacked what we might call hate
I remember the old days
but have forgotten what NAZI stands for
and remember the music of the time was stepping
one line at a time forward
as if begging for power
feeding upon everyone's roots
slow and cold and heavy
like acid and iron
drums
and the blues
from the sax wail to the horns
played an entropic game
across the years
not cold, but not forgiving
|
||||
33. |
Cession
00:31
|
|||
Cession
January 14, 1992
do you feel what I do
this pollution
strong so strong,
being brought to the knees
won't even begin to expunge
the taking down
and it may feel like love
mindless brute savage
pilgrimage within
and I believe in love
|
||||
34. |
Larry
00:43
|
|||
Larry
January 22, 1992
if you have to search for meaning
hidden in words
so be it
if you have to look at written things
more than once and once
you'll not offend me
but tell me not what is said
when I have done with saying
you misconstrue my meaning
I've no need of your truth
for the time being
and if the writing makes no sense
or forces you to think without convincing
stop to ponder for a mile
look closely at the track
the track is
beginning
|
||||
35. |
Fleeting Vision
01:08
|
|||
Fleeting Vision
January 22, 1992
image -
one face of fear
one of blood
one face of corpulence
controlling all
one face of peace
serene in the chaos of the moment
confident
all of this is an illusion
nothing is real -
image -
a place where the violent ones go
a place to put the would be killers and politicians
a space for their practical brand of madness
where it can cause no displeasure
yelling at the masses on BBC 2 -
image -
the rest of the world left part of the system
able to progress by peaceable means
no one need to cause rebellion
nothing in demand to rebel from -
image -
an illusion
from a broken mind trying at last to go sane
scarred from the weight of the BBC world -
|
||||
36. |
Parade
01:04
|
|||
Parade
January 24, 1992
look -
I will not sleep tonight
too many memories
swirling in my brain
too many losses
gathered together at one tomb
in one place
I cannot cope much longer
I'm circling down
depression -
look -
I will not sleep tomorrow night
too many things I can no longer look forward to
being together with
I am what the optimistic call alone
dragging around a wound my own size and more
some veil of suppuration laid waste about me
pretense of safety broken
no longer in control of my destiny, if I've still got one
life remains the dream untrue for me
more like struggle than nightly slumber
trying to breathe
depression -
|
||||
37. |
Denial
02:34
|
|||
Denial
January 24, 1992
should I retreat now into solitude
should I carve a box in my mind to put the world in
should I turn and run and run til I can run from my fears no longer
or turn and face them
like the man who turns to take the bullet
shot through the heart
should I close down
should I crash slowly like the sinking sun
setting into the evening sea
or will I hiss and burn to a boil of vapor
unable to quench the fire
annihilate the single yellow rose sinking in its vase
ignore the pain
or is there a better answer
should I try to talk to those I trust
in hopes that the pain will be over for once in my life
should I try to bare my soul
my weak side where the singers sway is long in need of warmth
my dark side always looking for a way to be turned out
my inner dreams and agonies the toil of a trial run
are stoned and stone from blood
hammer and chisel set aside to apply the squeeze
from those I knew to trust
and the one I care about the most
I cannot tell the truth
though inside there is dying
should I try to run away into the night
should I try to hide my soul
should I scream out my cries and old laments into the phone
should I admit that I am weak, I never had any power
should I play the fool and never let go
should I set out to find who I really am
for I have this hidden fear that I don’t exist
should I try to take the pain
should I try to tell the one I care for who I really feel
though I thought I tried to do that, who has failed
should I try to face this night alone
when there are so many filling my world
I am not cast down
I am not cast down
I am just not who I want to be – a cry
another weakness
should I admit I don’t understand, that I am crushed
should I rage, should I cant
should I give up the world for a home in my head
my own little box
should I bare my soul
to the light of the ones I know I trust, have I
or does nothing really matter
|
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38. |
To Be True
01:27
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To Be True
January 24, 1992
I don’t know
the answer changes with the shifting tides
times change as the season passes
life turns on its local journey
a spiral
beginning and an end
and a place to fill the sadness
the place left in the soul
another used to fill
but I don’t know
perhaps to love is to let go
I thought to love and loose would be better
than the song’s known repose
but love it always looses
and life it kicks and burns
but when you get down to the heart of it
take a look at the world spinning by you
you realize
you cannot catch a soul
perhaps to love is to let go
and though I love
I find the world’s ever changing
what was thought to be was never to be had at all
just for an instant
the flash that cannot help but sear the soul
it could start over
but the answer changes on the shifting tides of time
I never knew it
just that I had no experience
found –
a places inside that was filled up so completely
so nothing mattered
yet I’m a witness
that life will tear your soul
perhaps to love is to let go
|
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39. |
Paper Dreams
00:53
|
|||
Paper Dreams
January 27, 1992
I found this book of memories the other day
hidden away in the attic among the stacks of shoes and tools
it told of a person I’d never had a chance to meet
they had such a vision of how to live a life
how to deal with all the problems that just seem to turn up
they said to me in ancient script
“raise your head my child
always your lot grows better
just hold on to the reigns –
raise your head my child
life is truth”
I do not understand these words rightly
they ring of an answer I long have sought
but the rest of the book is missing
pages torn out
|
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40. |
Cross Revelation
02:58
|
|||
Cross Revelation
January 27, 1992
1)
in a shroud you sit behind the altar
eyes a mask from your next believer
come to seek shelter
come to pay penance
shuddering in the wrath
of your lying god
you are the father
the one they turn to in imagined sin
use them, use them
trap them in a descant
make them do your dirty work
you are the prince of sorrow
the master of libelous chains
you are the belief that breaks them
bends them to your will
ah, to make them bow
2)
they came to you to be well
you make them feel dirty
only then to cleanse them
make them owe you
this, your control
you tell them of sinful pleasures
wait until they follow
drag them scraping through the guilt
making sure they have nowhere to run
then you kick out their legs
lock the shackles
ah, to make them bow
imagined master
they cannot now be clean without you
this you know
this they know
the spider drifting in its web
spitting sticky venom
there is no better source of blood
than those who sacrifice themselves
3)
you call out to them
tell them what they must do
twist them to an unreal god
perhaps to make them real
assuredly
to make them yours
my children bow ye down before him
you are his – to do his bidding
holy crusades
and wars to be waged
rise up
rise up
on our master’s word
and they follow you
lambs to the minted meal of lamb
holy wards of inept angels
caught up in the reassurance
what they do is right
bidding is word
4)
join me now in the song of killing
join me now –
revel in the blood of the enemy
his is not of our god
destroy him of necessity
false believer
and take his children to the way of light
|
||||
41. |
Reach Out
05:07
|
|||
Reach Out
January 30, 1992
1)
mother
there is nothing
the vision is destroyed
I said mother
I can’t see any more
all that I believe is melting away
mother
you told me I could fly
you said that I could do anything
if I set my mind to it
but there is nothing
no way to turn the rapid river
just give up and float along with it
or wait til you go down
I thought I could be a teacher
an explainer of the ways to life –
I thought I could show the world a better way
than to come crashing down
on the so called lesser ones
as the world chooses to term them
those that lack the better things
or anything at all
they start from nothing
they see nowhere to go
and the world continues its illusion
that’s all there is
not a better place
and the world’s breaking down
while they all run
2)
and different now, different man
not the one you want to meet
not the first to say this
so get to know me
master of illusion is my name
and all is going well
– forgot
that you never need worry
my fickle friend you have nothing left
yet your pockets bulge with broken words
my words, my words in your pocket
illusion the game I play
I tell you we are gaining ground
we all have wars to wage
we can fight the communists
if anyone still cares
we can try to drown in madness
we can try to play the game
I will tell you almost anything
and to think my soul I saved
I tell you racism’s at its end
that the poor are poor no more
that medicine is magical these days
I tell you, you can buy anything
yet there’s nothing
why ask why
when you listen to illusion
who’s buying anyway
3)
back to the first
and to be the last as well
so to those of you who think all is better
you can play the game
but the masters of illusion
are the people we all know
the best and most of anyone
fitting fact to lies
to tell the tale
and ears filled up with their illusion
tell you what they do – is what they all must do
poll to the game called politician
and the people loose
you hear their commercials unfortunately
tossed your way by magic through the air
in all their pomp and glory, perhaps they believe their words
but I doubt it
know there should be a better way –
some of them must
some even try to fix the broken world
my friend, they say, and please follow me
off to nowhere
I’ll take you to the end of the road
show you despair
lead you to an impossible place
of bureaucratic nonsense
and the balancing of numbers of paper
I fight the quota I supported
no new taxes but outvoted
few new reasons to see the light
nothing left but oversight by the blinded
no reason to add to that
4)
so there are many cures for politics
drop a bomb on the bloody nest
peace protests, antiwar, black power
flower children
don’t you know that some have worked?
we can end the illusion
we can learn to ease the fears of a nation
people must be people
but we can always travel on
let us try to look beyond the night
to see a change in the illusion
break it down
before it breaks its own
somebody’s going to have to answer
but there are no real people left
just a machine
and who can fit a soul among the gears
you can make a difference
cliché those words long ture
fight for what you believe in
go out of your way to avoid harm
argue with a quiet mind to end the pain
for the poor to take up their plowshares
sharpen them to words
who needs the communist
relying upon perfect people
in a land of none
5)
mother
you told me I could fly
so look at me, I’ve found my wings
but the ground’s so very warm
watch for a while
keep on pushing harder
all will learn to clip the wings
far from the dirty ground
|
||||
42. |
Singularity
00:19
|
|||
Singularity
January 30, 1992
two
they meet
gain confidence slowly
learn to communicate finally
one
|
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43. |
Way Out
00:57
|
|||
Way Out
January 30, 1992
run my one
set the world in motion
you can believe in you
go faster
pass the ground beneath you
no need to go somewhere
just joy of motion
feel better
the more you move –
the faster you can go
I set out late last night
took the world beneath my feet
set out into timeless darkness
partial moon to light my way
watched the reflection from the last light snowfall
set out across a lake of ice
no place was I going –
finding peace in a method of the mind
a motion of the body
a simple mending of the soul
peace is a long fast run
for there is no pain in the night
and you can think
alone
fast across the ice
|
||||
44. |
Washout
00:25
|
|||
Washout
January 30, 1992
I am breaking
my face cracking
I am falling
body burning
I am twisting
dancing in this molten fire
I am an island
surrounded by this burning sea
I am nothing who is me
|
||||
45. |
Aloud, Aloud
01:37
|
|||
Aloud, Aloud
January 30, 1992
how do I deal with my emotion
I am weeping in my distress
cannot control it any longer
I cradle down
in perfect glass
how do I deal with my emotion
caring such a simple thing
I thought to deal with simplicity
but it is not so
all I do is cause distress
to those I care for
I cannot tell them of love
and love the rules forbade
what am I to say
I am so worried
I have found that I hurt others
when all I want is to avoid their pain
language lending to misconception
and I do not know
am I telling my truth
in the words
sometimes it seems I am alone
nowhere to run
no one to care for the fall
I spin
out of control
diving towards the ground
but the ground is equidistant
a half halved, halved
extended in pain I wait for the end
halved again, and never come
I still can’t talk
can’t communicate at the going rate
perhaps to feel rejected
and I wonder if it’s true
that we keep hurting each other
and it seems I might be right
so I wonder
am I hurting
which pain is felt
will the end be alone
lost to the world
|
||||
46. |
Back Breaker
01:02
|
|||
Back Breaker
February 1, 1992
it’s six to one
none of the other
uneven odds
no chance to recover
it’s dreaming terror
no way for waking
a one way journey
the trip you’re taking
another lie
you line them up
take them in
you know it’s gonna cut
play with the visions
this artificial dreaming
cold sweat, hot blooded
your body screaming
you come down now
part way from human
don’t want to give it up
another line you take
you crawl back up
like crawling matters
just this feeling
you think you’re feeling
flying for falling
your body wasted
your money spent
awake in alleys
your mind much bent
no chance to have now
nor to recover
body long sold
to your next hit
|
||||
47. |
Faith
00:28
|
|||
Faith
February 1, 1992
dive
head first forward
feet stretched back
eyes closed enter the water
from which never to rise
stay down
as long as they give you air
trust
that they give you breath
belong
here under
|
||||
48. |
Fine Tuning
01:19
|
|||
Fine Tuning
January 30, 1992
my messiah is a radio song
to find an answer takes so long
in the daylight nothing’s wrong
but how I hate the night
my messiah is a melody
lifts my soul like a religion
takes me to my own nirvana
out of body, out of mind
I have nothing to leave behind
for though in daylight all is fine
how I hate the night
I hold a candle above my bed
see my body lying there
I thought this would scare me but I don’t mind
my body is a moth
spiraling into the candle I hold
I see destruction in the midnight hours
but in the music I hold my power
I hang on to the slippery slope
toss me a line
my messiah, I am falling
sing me a song
and my body lies in candlelight
as I watch the world slip away
circling down, circling down
to the light
my messiah, I am drowning
sing me a song
|
Wetdryvac's Lair Weld, Maine
Wetdryvac is a consulting device, a musician, and a free will procedural ethicist. This makes for some seriously odd material from time to time, much of which is worked with here as Wetdryvac's Lair.
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