Showbread - No, Sir, nihilism is not practical
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a llama eats a giraffe:
I'm nausesous, or maybe just inspired
So truthful, I begin to tire,
No less then everything.
No haiku, no paper packaged thing,
Patronized you harmonize, a thorax rattles so,
Like idealistic jargon every self-respecting hopeful ought to know.
I know the road to everything,
I know it goes right off a cliff,
Nothing, Nothing is forever
Sympathy I do indeed intake in bulk amounts,
For reasoning obscure it seems to numerous to count,
And so it goes the leser chose to crawl through narrow gates,
Bulimic thin the winding road now emptires into lakes,
A pulse is found, and so we drown, and sing for this duration,
From rows and rows of teeth we're spared, these artery serrations.
Emptiness I must impress upon you in its granger,
My stagnant heart, it comes apart, as selfishness demands her,
To sound a note from scores I wrote,
And offer them unto thee,
For melodies now synthesized, Your love it lives within me.
Nothing is forever.
And The Smokers And Children Shall Be Cast Down Òåêñò ïåñíè
Sing with me child, as my ears are bleeding,
The dreams that have now seemed so fleeting,
Still your cradle, with no effort sways,
Where this monochromatic record is played,
And I’ll purse my lips and blow kisses goodbye,
It’s so easy if you never ask why,
My lungs will contract and give up a brief sigh,
Shall we say an appendage has finally died?
Or is it easier to go on with a smile,
With faltering ease, and talk for a while,
Words fall from your mouth and are lost on the floor,
And I can’t go on singing anymore
Oh the tale you tell, oh the web that you’ve spun,
And the salt that was sprinkled on the things you have done,
Makes the anger oh so sweet, makes the world fall at your feet,
Makes the pity that you pour over your head quite a treat,
So go ahead and cry, and go ahead and lie,
Begin every sentence that you vomit with “I�,
And then Jesus will forgive you, but oh what can I do,
To see if there’s enough forgiveness left for me
But in all of Israel, father did you see someone who seeks himself so perfectly,
The Pharisees would be content at the sight of me,
The snakes would wrap around me and we’d dance across the sea,
To ridicule you there and to spit upon your face,
Unsheathe this wicked tongue, and invite disgrace,
Isn’t that the goal that I’ve always pursued?
While I beg you, lord to be used for you
Under a light in Bethlehem I was sifting through the sand,
The saline burned my eyes, I was looking for your hand,
I gave up on myself, and left this pride disarmed,
I cried out “I’m alone!� and found myself in your arms
Rest in me oh my love,
I have loved you before the world began,
Rest in me oh my love,
You will never to wander too far to reach my hand,
Did they not murder you?
Did they not see you die?
Hanging on a tree as the life had left your eyes,
Did we not torture you?
Smiling as you died,
Or is it that you killed death itself, and now you are alive?
I won’t find you there, lying with yourself,
Sleep under a rock until your mouth is full of insects,
I won’t look for you, praying to your ceiling,
Swallow every snake and sing of your mistakes,
Put lipstick on your mirror,
Cry into your hands
Matthias Replaces Judas Òåêñò ïåñíè
it is so that my transgressions have born a withered fruit,
the sun has scorched the rising plans;
alas they have no root, the bleached bones of animals bound by leather strips,
dance through the air with laughter as i wield this wicked whip,
as you did warn me carpenter, this world has weakened my heart,
so easily i disparage, self-seeking the work of my art,
and there you have come to me at the moment i bathe in my sorrow,
so in love with myself, sought after avoiding tomorrow,
where do you find the love to offer he who betrays you?
and offer to wash my feet as i offer to disobey you,
your beauty does bereave me, and how my words do fail,
so faithfully and dutifully i award you with betrayal,
the weak and the down trodden fall on broken legs,
as i walk past a smile i cast, fervor in my stead,
but my bones like plastic, do buckle backward now,
i lay in this field by Judas' bowels and anticipate the plow,
i can not be forgiven; my wages will be paid,
for those more lovely and admirable is least among the saved,
and where would i fit Jesus?
what place is left for me?
the price of atonement is more than i've found to offer up as my plea,
Jesus my heart is all i have to give to you, so weak and so unworthy,
this simply will not do, no alabaster jar, no diamond in the rough,
for your body that was broken, how can this be enough?
by me you were abandoned, by me you were betrayed,
yet in your arms and in your heart forever i have stayed
Your glory illuminates my life, and no darkness will descend,
for you have loved me forever, and your love will never end
Mouth Like A Magazine Òåêñò ïåñíè
Turning over in interrupted slumber,
You ponder others, growing ever wakeful,
You've locked the vermin in the other bedroom,
To be so perfect causes you to feel so thankful,
Now find the fault because your boyfriend can't read,
Reflecting on to you is all the bitterness you need,
So unhappy, yet so preoccupied,
Never found beaten down with your forked tongue tied.
Your eulogy is like poetry,
But your mouth is like a magazine.
Queen dependency is cowering, please don't be confused,
You are vacant and submissive, receptive to abuse,
Virtue isn't tangible, and sense of self is dated,
Names constant on your cracked lips are now eviscerated,
Your spine is made of metal,
Your veins are bound in electric tape,
And all along an impulse lights at random in your face,
Yough cought up an offering and forget which words are lies,
Then your skull echoes a singeing pop,
as your brain is cauterized.
Within the walls I hear all of its legs,
There must be so many to carry it over our heads,
Seething and unsettled and oh such a let down,
And now these rusty spokes inside my head
are making such a grating sound.
Stabbing Art To Death Òåêñò ïåñíè
Shall we use needles or knives to realign your spine?
the tissue degenerates so rapidly
perhaps it proves it is the time to cover your face
and smile at me to see if I am out of sight,
denying ventricle flow revel in your plight tonight,
you're such a wonderful person to know
and my name will rest in utter disdain
my resentment receives its wings for flight
you deceitfully stroll on just the same into your holy light
With music destroyed, we'll only create noise
sweet dissonance is all that you'll have left
we'll dance across its grave
the art of singing empty praise with knives of hope and peace stab art to death
I've watched it on its drugs
and I've seen the doctors shrug cerebellums withered up,
the heart is black
No scalpel, pill or stitch, no religious sales pitch
will ever bring the art that's dying back
and so we are the heirs, of this glowing lack of care our hearts in one discord
we all cry out for blood and spit we clap, the amps are feeding back
my heart is filled with the one to whom I shout
And glowing you speak in the friendliest tongue in sentiments of gold
and oh the sweetest songs are sung and the sweetest lies are told
so spread this virus and seek yourself you pursue it quite relentlessly when Sunday comes
you'll raise hands to sing what a glorious sight to see
Yet I see true art, I see her, and I see you
and Father you inspire me to sing to you
you inspire me to sing to you
Burn all the flags and the money, sacrifice and laugh
The light in your eyes reflects and I see myself
and all I want to be for you I'll give everything,
just to linger on your lips and feel your fingertips, you are an angel
Art is not the world, art is in our heart
And so I am the prince of sounds that make ears ring
my princess kiss me with your sweet lips and lo,
my heart will sing if art is in yourself,
or in a class at school if art is ego and selfishness,
and at the mercy of primitive tools we sing sweet good-byes in screams and screeches
and bury these knives in your heart
no paintings or poems to let you live on
we've seen the last of art as servants and lovers
we wash your feet and cry out into the dark the noise, the beauty,
the love you bring me stabs these knives right into art art is not the world,
art is in our hearts
Stab art to death
The Bell Jar Òåêñò ïåñíè
To be common place would be unique,
But we’re so obscure we’re incoherent,
Like tongueless vigilantes choking just to make you choke,
Rattling, rattling,
No nails to hold ideas in place, no expression on your face
Music and her patrons are dead and irrelevant,
Like osteoporosis, she’s brittle she is broken
Static comes through synthesizers, megaphones and drum machines,
Beauty sounds like smashed guitars,
And several references to feedback,
Rattling, rattling,
No surgery to save your life,
No promise everything’s all right
Music and her patrons are dead and irrelevant,
Like osteoporosis she’s brittle and she is broken,
Languages must be organic because like flies they fall and die,
Music now sleeps with Latin and Aramaic,
It’s over, it’s over,
No more waiting for something to live for,
It’s over, it’s over,
Everything is dying and we want something more
The Dissonance Of Discontent Òåêñò ïåñíè
We’ve come so far, and here we are,
Amidst the endless hum,
No wind worth chasing, no revolution,
No blazing battle drum,
We laughed as we said, “the music is dead�,
We’ve plucked out its eyes, we’ve shattered its head,
My work is so weary so let it be said “Father, thy will be done.�
Instruments make the best sounds as they’re breaking,
People make the best smiles when they’re faking,
Notes are shattered, blood is spattered,
The night is ours for the taking,
And what shall we say now that it is gone?
In ours eyes are no tears, in our hearts are no songs,
And now we’ve gone pale, what was it we saw?
The beauty, the horror...
Of rock that is so raw
The Missing Wife Òåêñò ïåñíè
Should you hurt yourself or simply sleep?
I shall collect myself after I weep,
And garb myself in ocean blue,
With no method of goodbye to you,
Should the marsh render a crane to cry,
And the sea suspend her gulls to fly,
I’ll lend myself unto their wings,
And hear the voice of Jesus sing,
No wish for he whose whimsy does soar,
No wish to sleep forever more,
No eye shadow as thick as paint,
No pigment pleads unto the faint
Forgiveness like a blanket of snow whispers like the wind does blow,
Beckoning unto the deep, offering unto the meek,
And there you lay in Jesus’ hands, resting there beside the lamb,
There will not be a circular piece to drive into a square shaped keep,
No hands to hold within my own,
No second soul inside our home,
We’ll walk beside the crystal sea,
Myself for my love, and my love for me
Welcome To Plainfield Tobe Hooper Òåêñò ïåñíè
That thing inside my ribs is like a pile of reptiles,
Pressed on splintered vertebrae, so cold, so claustrophobic,
Echoing in hollow fruit are orders sent with love to you,
To serve a will more shallow still than paramecium
I’ll bet your hands are beautiful,
I’m sure your head is beautiful,
But the world is ugly,
The world is ugly and it’s true,
I’ll bet your hands are beautiful,
I’m sure your head is beautiful,
But with world is ugly,
The world is ugly even after you
Invertebrates now contemplate your lavishing and humble service,
All set to hide behind the guise that this empty thing can’t hurt us,
Sensationalized for virgin eyes, it’s graphic, it’s disturbing,
And it’s worse still to think it’s real,
Degrading and unnerving
Dead By Dawn Òåêñò ïåñíè
Tonight's twilight will be the last seen by our eyes,
So if it seems so beautiful, kiss the beauty goodbye,
Oh my little cornea, please say that you are no more,
And ears please swear you did not hear this creaking in the cabin floor,
I'll forgive my eyes for lovely lies, so certainly within my will,
Please declare this piercing stare,
So false, at a clock that's standing still.
Such pretty skin, give it to us,
The sun won't wise my spirit dies,
All hope has withdrawn,
So here I lay because either way,
I know we'll all be dead by dawn,
Dead by dawn.
Arming shotgun shells this rotting smell lingers on words that were said,
Her body in pieces, my hand cut away,
the ever-enchanting book of the dead,
The sun won't rise, my spirit dies, All hope has withdrawn,
So here I lay because either way I know we'll all be dead by dawn.
A chainsaw can remove a limb or act as a replacement,
Smell the gas as hours pass, contrary to my statement,
The corpses wish to cover me with kisses,
So just maybe I'll cover this cabin with their blood,
Hail to the king baby.
So Selfish It'S Funny
Someday they'll write a book about you,
Because you're so selfish it's funny,
So self-absorbed, this thunderous horde,
Of you, you, you,
So self-absorbed, this thunderous horde,
Of you, you, you
Yeah, I'd love you,
But you love yourself,
And you'd love me,
But I love myself
So tense are these nerves in any instance,
Teeth snap and a toe taps the dirt,
Cry like a baby and see if then maybe the others will cherish your hurt,
Never you see a cry or a plea,
Consider another or first,
Know this is YOUR world,
The harsh words you have hurled,
Recall you are the one in need worse
Yeah, I'd love you,
But you love yourself,
And you'd love me,
But I love myself,
Yeah, I'd love you,
But you love yourself,
And we'd serve you,
But we serve ourselves
Ignoring you, I dance, oh I do,
Through magnificent realms, quite divine,
Stopping to see my face smiling at me,
For this is my life and my time,
What an arduous task, it proves such a feat to be only one of a kind,
Through the scenery slips through the spaces we meet,
Press forward and leave me behind,
What a child you are, for you look just like me,
Looking out for number one, I'm all that I have and all that I see,
Saved by the grace of the Son,
So shall we deny?
And rot as we die?
As I write a book about me,
My noble wealth of serving myself,
I am so selfish it's funny
If You Like Me Check Yes, If You Don'T I'Ll Die
The love letters that lead to bliss,
Embracing, youthful, love's first kiss,
Stops after school, the parents fooled,
Thinking they'll be home so soon,
She waits for him in parking lots and hallways everyday,
He smiles anticipating, thinking of the words to say.
Then it begins this absurd parade,
Such an unproductive way to behave,
The accusations are unending,
Tiring, no more listening,
I wish I never saw his name written on your notebook,
I wish I didn't break my neck to take another look,
I wish I never held your hand, I wish I never knew your name,
Or I just wish that from the day we met nothing ever, ever changed,
Then you put your hands on my face,
Pink roses and red valentine lace,
You're dancing like hot dripping wax,
Like your fingertips running up my back,
The truest parts of the feeling within skinned by insecurities in him,
will no longer retort to the truth,
This half-decade charace of wasted youth.
Yeah, yeah I'm dying.
Please don't say the words he screams, Please don't let me go,
Please don't cut me up again just to turn and go,
How many ways can I say I care?
Run my fingers through your silky hair,
Look up and see the pale skin of your back as you walk away again,
Look up and see the pale skin of your back as you walk away,
The ring's been set in the shape of her finger,
Still on and off the torment that lingers,
Going through and falling again,
Where are we going? Where have we been?
It's so much simpler then we make it,
Fearing the other one can fake it,
Tears and sweat and lips again,
I wonder if she'll stay with him,
The words we share are nothing short of inspired,
I love you's and I miss you's across a telephone wire,
She says she never thinks of another,
I wonder if she's a liar.