Lyrics

A Little Bit Ludicrous [2017]
1. Patapon's Foodbowl
2. Shut Up and Listen
3. Cool Shit
4. Not Even Me
5. A Little Bit Ludicrous


"Patapon's Foodbowl"

Fuck it. I’m free. I’m fucked. it’s folk. that’s fair. l really don’t care

I’m just taking a dump in left field and even the left fielder doesn’t care

doesn't ask me what the hell I’m doing, doing that way the fuck out there

I greet him meekly and explain ... oh, I’m just taking a stroll

Trying to reach Maurice taking a shit in Patapon’s food bowl


You can choose to use a crowbar to pry open their tiny minds

Moan and piss and tweet and click to convince someone to pay some mind

Then shove what’s left of your compassion up some crack that’s hard to find.

You always campaign on how little you care - take a fucking poll.

Meantime, I’ll picture Maurice taking a shit in Patapon’s foodbowl


After sharing your theory about how humpty dumpty was shoved off the wall

you measure the chaos in a dismal test down at the local science hall

Then, recruit an army of janitors to invade your favorite toilet stall

Back on the fortress edge, you flash me your glory hole

Now we both can peek at Maurice taking a shit in Patapon’s foodbowl


You serve up reheated revenge with chilled resentment to all your guests

I idiotically shoved two fist full in my face - Now it’s me no one gets

And you’re so fucking mad: they all seem like lemmings or, worse, fucking pests

When you’re tired of everyone's goddamn shit - and patience has taken its toll

There’s alway Maurice taking a shit in Patapon’s food bowl



"Shut Up and Listen

I don’t give a fuck, but I still fucking care

A dickhead with a heart - my brain is you know where

I'm freelance bullshit artist, crafting my fiction

Sometimes I just shut the fuck up, and try listening


I’m an amateur loser with no pedigree.

A professional fuck-up with no proper degree.

When I stick my dick in the wind and just start pissing,

I realize I might need to shut the fuck up, and start listening.


Free speech is not a privilege - it is technically a right.

Don’t disregard your adversary; offer a high five.

It's demeaning to assume anyone needs your permission.

It takes practice to shut the fuck up, and just listen.


To the whites of their eyes, there’s two ways to reply

Brandish your best rhetoric - or bite tongue and eat pride

Pick your battles when confronting the inquisition.

Resign for a time to shutting the fuck up and just listening


Justice is blind but she can be long-winded.

Half your talk is wicked, it’s not your duty to be pigheaded.

You out to conquer all? Are you open to another position?

Either way, you probably need to shut the fuck up and try listening


God’s lawyers can be prone to sanctimonious verbiage

The devil’s advocate is a distinct, yet serious privilege

There’s more than one way to extract an act of contrition

Not always, but yeah, I shut the fuck up, and try listening


None of this is ironclad - just a rule of thumb

There’s a fine line between prudence and something really dumb.

Make room for subtlety in your flawless glorious vision

I’ll humor you and shut the fuck up, and try listening


I blow it out my ass and turn the other cheek.

My breathe smells like coconut; I got a pube stuck in my teeth.

What in our shallow, pathetic existence could be missing?

Maybe I need to shut the fuck up, and try listening


This kind of advice fits on the back of a car.

Balanced, rational argument only gets one so far.

So, I add crass irreverence - with a nod to tradition

That includes shutting the fuck up, and just listening


You can scare or shoot the rooster, but the sun’s still gonna rise.

Could the dim explicit thicket shit - open your eyes?

Or chintzy slabs of facts dash - your favorite opinions.

It takes guts to shut the fuck up, and just listen.


Make an *honest case - put a conclusion at the end

Reason might fight bias, but we all chew on what we’re fed.

Orthodoxy is shared among tribal affiliation.

You’ll have to figure out when to shut the fuck up, and just listen.


I made peace with my demons, now what the fuck do I do?

Find a meeting of minds with someone in the room.

With so much still to say, let this be my modest submission:

Sometimes we all need to shut the fuck up, and just listen.



"Cool Shit"

people doing cool shit - trying to figure out what to do

focusing on what really works and making it come true


studying the shit out of everything

trudging through the flood of negativity

listening to everyone from slave to king

tossing your best hat into the brutal ring

inspiring us to do it too


people doing cool shit - trying to figure out what to do

focusing on what really works and making it come true


quaint - like a notion of civility

The thankless task of forging public policy

quietly building trust in your community

with a lavish budget - threadbare shoestring

inspiring us to do it too


people doing cool shit - trying to figure out what to do

focusing on what really works and making it come true


drawing from humanity’s old wellspring

summoning the will of creativity

humdrum stuff like fucking governing

a disciplined life passion not a fad or fling

inspiring us to do it too


people doing cool shit - trying to figure out what to do

focusing on what really works and making it come true


prosaic - like a sense of common decency

not beholden to the dogma of either wing

from Chicago to Pretoria to Chongqing

Reimagining the limits of what could be

inspiring us to do it too


people doing cool shit - trying to figure out what to do

focusing on what really works and making it come true



"Not Even Me"

I’m not me anymore. I got busy, busy being born.

If you pass this way again. I’ll be in the cloud or on the floor.

Nothing now feels worth it. It’s all approximately worthless.

I pass my days in a listless haze. I’m never whole, I’m always torn.


The canned chorus of senselessness. The callousness makes me wince.

I stop what I’m doing and just listen, in a frozen stupor at the stupid door.

We all need some grounding in something boring or astounding.

But every now and then, it’s good to get shaken to the core.

I’m not you, him, her or them. I’m not even me anymore.


When you conjure up the shame, It feels like a farce or a game.

But I hear the chilling echo in the neglected annals of yore.

Who am I to presume? Didn’t we both jump over the broom.

In the din, my shout’s a whimper. In the silence, a roar.


It’s neither here nor there. How quaint that you still care.

All the best laid plans, You never know what’s in store.

When all you’ve known has crumbled and even heads of state are humbled

All seem powerless to direct where the biggest burden is borne

I’m not you, him, her or them. Hell, I’m not even me anymore.


In the captive mind of pettiness. In resentment spawned from thoughtlessness.

I mutter gloomily: "I fucking guess". Like Winnie-the-Pooh’s friend, Eeyore.

In the grand prison of self-righteousness, echoes boom; nothing’s confessed

Like that donkey, I get depressed. Being right can’t be it’s own reward.


Even all the wisdom of Solomon can’t get the dead dove to fly again

or persuade the zealot fundamentalist from unleashing misery and gore

Sometimes, it all feels hopeless when violence robs what’s precious.

The despair, I can only guess. I have the luxury to ignore.

I’m not you, him, her or them. I’m not even me anymore.


Some people have an impressive, boundless gift of forgiveness

Others bury their hate inside, dig their heels in and brace for war.

A dash of agony is cathartic; Pampered self-pity pathetic

We all have a struggle; Whether on the front lines or in fucking bubble core

Sometimes, shit doesn’t work, whether you’re decent or a jerk.

Us, we'll hammer out a plan. We’ll just make up our own lore.

I take no joy in another’s demise; a bird can’t haul its cage away if it’s gonna fly

If you find a quick high in what you despise, learning shit will become a chore

I’m not you, him, her or them. I’m not even me anymore.

The revolution has been tedious with spells of giddy deliriousness

and self-indulgent disobedience; serious, cheesy, and mysterious

I dumpster dive for ideas from the Dakotas to either Korea

I follow furthest conclusions from the Hague to fucking Bangalore.


The narcissist dressed in a spiffy shirt; the swaggering amateur on high alert

politely debate, but the trolls go berserk when the warriors claim to be pure

I have a moral compass lodged near my hippocampus

I won’t just blurt out what it says. I'm crouched in the fucking shrubs of metaphor

I’m not you, him, her or them. I’m not even me, not me anymore.


You angrily to squeeze the balloon, displacing the agony and gloom

I squeak the air out slowly, drawing fake giggles and sarcastic snores

There’s tons of indignation, from crude insults to high oration

I’m just a modest scribe, an obscure, rambling troubadour


I’m just a drop in the bucket, tossed in the ocean off Nantucket

I’m a single grain of sand, lost in the snaking, rambling shore

I’m so infinitesimally small. Go on, squint, you won’t see me at all

When my dust gets blown away, things’ll pretty much be as before.

I’m not you, him, her or them. I’m not even me anymore.



"A Little Bit Ludicrous"

To avoid feeling like a useless piece of shit

I convened a meeting on the monumental mess

A quorum of one, still there was some suspense

not really surprised and fairly impressed

I plundered the search box for recompense

signed my surrender, dropped any pretense

Gold and myrrh - and burning frankincense

shit was everywhere, packed in really dense

in short - to condense:

it was all a little bit ludicrous


the big top convention had already commenced

shouting mean chants instead of drafting a defense

some actually polite in a different context

proud, if bitter, feeling dispossessed

sifting through the scraps of Apollo's mess

herded past the labyrinth of common sense

captive to a series of unfortunate events

hearing the paeans, then promptly taking offense

in short - to condense:

it was all a little bit ludicrous


gratuitously huge - gorgeous immense

amorphous, formless, and nebulous

staring in the bowels of ruthlessness

egregious, fruitless, and tortuous

when the wrath surpasses metamorphosis

its monstrous, obnoxious, and imperious

the gracious stand aghast at the hideousness

labeled sell-outs, bigots, even blasphemous

in short - to condense:

it was all a little bit ludicrous


the minutes of the meeting - all its contents

were just a shapeless heap and didn’t make sense

mostly boring as fuck, sometimes pretty intense

nothing bud light would care to present

I watched it unfold at my own expense

It just pissed me off and made me fucking stressed

I chucked that crap past the wall and the fence

passed a quizzical bird, perched chirping its two cents

in short - to condense:

it was all a little bit ludicrous


after popping some corn for the apocalypse

I needed a dose of the innocuous

joyous, judicious, and generous

fabulous, glamorous, and frivolous

hilarious, ingenious, misce*llaneous

marvelous, miraculous, and idolatrous

variously vacuous and virtuous

illustrious, impervious, androgynous

in short - to condense:

it was all a little bit ludicrous


----------------------

Demons [2014]
1. Demons
2. Hard To Fucking Imagine
3. Do You Like It?
4. A Dollar’s Worth
5. In Their Grip
6. Shit Is So Fucking Sad

"Demons"

I fought with some demons.

They were scary and mean.

They take shit from no one,

especially not some fuck-up punk, like me.

I tried to ignore them.

But they showed up everyday.

At first, I asked them nicely,

“Demons, please go away.”


Demon, demon, demon, demon, demon, be gone.

What ransom must I pay.

Demon, demon, demon, demon, demon, be gone. Demon, just go away.


Now, demons are a persistent lot.

They follow me everywhere.

No matter where the hell I end up,

Demons will be there.

Cairo or Brasilia.

New York or LA.

Brussels, Beijing, or Washington,

Or the San Francisco Bay.


Demon, demon, demon, demon, demon, be gone.

What ransom must I pay.

Demon, demon, demon, demon, demon, be gone. Demon, just go away.


After wrestling with the demons,

I now have resigned.

No plea or argument will help.

I just gaze into their eyes.

The demons, they stare right back at me

With inexhaustible resolve.

Maybe they’ll get sick of me,

and my live will carry on.


Demon, demon, demon, demon, demon, be gone.

What ransom must I pay.

Demon, demon, demon, demon, demon, be gone. Demon, just go away.

Demon, demon, demon, demon, demon, be gone.

What ransom must I pay.

Demon, demon, demon, demon, demon, be gone. Demon, just go away.



"Hard to Fucking Imagine"

Like cupid with his stupid arrow.

Tipped with either gold or lead.

He shoots his target dutifully.

That shit goes straight to his head.

One tip sharp and paralyzing.

All reason, it is shred.

The other blunt, almost poisonous

That fill you full of dread.


So, I'll grab my narcotics.

You reach for your phone.

It's hard to fucking imagine

Feeling more alone.


The lights were drawn.

The deck was stacked.

The dealer wore a smirk.

You commented derisively

On the pattern of his shirt.

Although the critique was justified,

I asked you, Is it worth

Pissing off the dealer

And loosing all respect you've earned.


I grab my narcotics.

You reach for your phone.

It's hard to fucking imagine

Feeling more alone.

I grab my narcotics.

You twiddle with your phone.

It's hard to fucking imagine

Feeling more alone.



"Do You Like It?"

Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it when Robin sits on his head?


Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it when Mika documents breakfast?


Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it when Connor shows us his peter?


Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it when Robin sits on his head?


Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it when Mika documents breakfast?


Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Do you like it when Connor shows us his peter?



"A Dollar's Worth"

An article of faith, like the virgin birth.

Burnt pedals strewn across the wicked earth.

Think shit’s fucked up now? It could get worse.

Just don’t ask me what a dollar’s worth.


A picture spews a thousand words.

Your talk’s as good as a week-old turd.

Blood, sweat, and tears. That shit’s called work.

Just don’t ask me what a dollar’s worth.


A silver tongue. A broken heart.

A golden egg. A sack of farts.

Let the early birds catch a thousand worms.

Just don’t ask me what a dollar’s worth.


A string of shells. A flock of sheep.

Life’s expensive. Death is free.

It shall be done, no matter how absurd.

Just don’t ask me what a dollar’s worth.


Money swears. The quants won't demur.

A penny saved. Plutus observes.

If greed is good, then God’s a jerk.

Go ask Him what a dollar’s worth.



"In Their Grip"

Fasting in the desert.

Forty days, same as Moses did.

Swept away by some spirit.

Three shots to make a bid.

I won’t make excuses for being idle or being useless.

The demons want me in their grip.


Hungry for some bread

Out in the wilderness.

Starving for the word

that passes gently through the lips.

I won’t make excuses for being idle or being useless.

The demons want me in their grip.


Standing atop the temple,

Where some say they tossed James.

Asked to jump out to the rocks

Like a test or a petty game.

I won’t make excuses for being idle or being useless.

The demons want me in their grip.


High upon the mountain,

On the road to Jericho.

Promised all before me

At the mere cost of the soul.

I won’t make excuses for being idle or being useless.

The demons want me in their grip.



"Shit Is So Fucking Sad"

Who's to blame for all the pain? Just wait and eternity

From unspeakably horrible shit carried out with impunity

To subtle transgressions, well-meaning, unintentional idiocy

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit is so fucking sad.


Cynically hoarding all heroes. Have you no dignity?

Gleefully peddling paranoid myths. It's belittling.

Shit is depressingly familiar all across humanity.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit is so fucking sad.


Persist in the struggle, the search for redeeming qualities.

From the glaringly obvious, to the painfully tedious, joy it brings.

The only remedy, grasping for something bigger than me.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit is so fucking sad.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit is so fucking sad.




Sap [2013]



The Jester [2012]



Refried Nostalgia [2010]



Fix [2009]



Big Kid Now [2008]



6 Outta 9 w/Beats [2006]



More Stuff Other People Said [2005]


Flat On Every Side [2004]


Elegant Pond [2002]


Nothing In Particular [2001]

Comments