Lyrics grabbed without permission from because frankly that page didn't look too stable.

Fluting on the Hump

17. Lou
18. At Dave's
19. Muffy
20. Take Stuff From Work
21. Sesitive Artist
22. Wuss
23. Heavy Holy Man
24. Fluting On The Hump
25. Dick
26. That Old Dog


(hall, dogbowl)

Lou wanted to be noticed and understood,
but he was so quiet.
So one day he wrote the following poem:

a four or five piece band
where three or four of the people don't play any instruments
performed in front of an
audience consisting solely of six foot two lesbians from Anchorage Alaska,
a kind of healing feeling friendly Sam
for a fortnight and a half a ham and cheese
insinuating strenuous selfishness
and culminating in
concrete caribou tissue
and crucified cats

After finishing the poem, Lou left it on the dining room table.
Then he went into the bathroom, slit each wrist
seven times
and quietly died.
No one noticed but everyone understood.

No one noticed but everyone understood.

At Dave's

(hall, dogbowl)

There were other ways of knowing:
he stepped into a yellow morning which seemed to him to be,
well, not gray but kind of a grayish maroon.
He couldn't figure out why;
he hadn't eaten mushrooms in at least a week.

He stumble-crawled towards Dave's Luncheonette, climbed into a booth.
He insisted on looking at the menu for six minutes and thirty seven seconds every day
even though he always ordered bacon and eggs, toast and coffee.
This morning, he also ordered water, but he didn't drink any of it.

It was Thursday, April 20, 1967. He was waiting for something to happen.
As he was eating, some of the water evaporated,
some people were born, some were married, a star imploded, a friends of his was throwing up, two others were having sex.
As he finished his last forkful of eggs, a fly sitting directly opposite from him, died.

He left Dave's, headed north.
Nothing much happened the rest of the day.
Had he known it was Hitler's birthday, he would not have celebrated.


(hall, delaszlo)

Muffy, She's an American orignal
Muffy, Is she vegtable or mineral?
Muffy, She lets it all hang out.

Muffy, She lets it all hang out.

Muffy, funny and freckly
Muffy, she'll sell some memories
Muffy, she knows what its all about

She knows what it's all about
She knows what it's all about

Muffy, funny and freckly
Muffy, she'll sell you some memories
Muffy, she knows what its all about

She knows what it's all about

{Random Conversation between john, alex, dogbowland rebecca and about seeng muffy in a porn mag}

Muffy, She's an American orignal
Muffy, Is she vegtable or mineral?
Muffy, She lets it all hang out (X3)

Take Stuff From Work


Take stuff from work.
It's the best way to feel better about your job.
Never buy pens or pencils or paper.
Take 'em from work.
Rubber bands, paper clips, memo pads, folders-take 'em from work.
It's the best way to feel better about your low pay and appalling working conditions.
Take an ashtray-they got plenty.
Take coat hangers.
Take a, take a trash can.
Why buy a file cabinet?
Why buy a phone?
Why buy a personal computer or word processor?
Take 'em from work.
I took a whole desk from the last place I worked.
They never noticed and it looks great in my apartment.
Take an electric pencil sharpener.
Take a case of white-out; you might need it one day.
Take some from work
It's your duty as an oppressed worker to steal from your exploiters.
It's gonna be an outstanding day.
Take stuff from work.
And goof off on the company time.
I wrote this at work.
They're paying me to write about stuff I steal from them.
Life is good.

Sensitive Artist


I am a sensitive artist (X6)
Nobody understands me because I am so deep.
In my work, I make allusions to books that nobody else has read,
Music that nobody else has heard,
And art that nobody else has seen.
I can't help it, because I am so much more intelligent and well-rounded
Than everyone who surrounds me.
I stopped watching tv when I was six months old
Because it was so boring and stupid,
And started reading books,
And going to recitals and art galleries.
I don't go to recitals any more,
Because my hearing is too sensitive,
And I don't go to art galleries anymore
Because there are people there,
And I can't deal with people,
Because they don't understand me.
I stay home, reading books that are beneath me,
And working on my work, which no one understands.
I am sensitive.



1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4

I was a teenage wuss.
In junior high school, I had oily, stringy hair and lots of pimples.
I wore really wussy clothes.
Most of the other kids called me a faggot.
Even some of the other wusses called me a faggot.
There was maybe five kids in the whole school who were wussier than I was.
I was really wussed out.
I was afraid of girls, and guys scared the shit out of me.
They used to say to me, "What are you, fucking queer?"
They wanted me to fight, to prove I wasn't a faggot.
But I didn't fight, I ran away.
{cussing in the background}
I was a wuss.
I was never into any sports at all.
I never took showers after gym class.
I wore my gym clothes under my regular clothes,
So I wouldn't have to change in front of everybody else.
I was afraid to realize my full potential in school because,
To the other kids,
The smarter you were,
The wussier you were
I was a hopeless wuss.
Wuss, Wuss, Wuss.
I was into science fiction and math and chess.
It was not fun being a wuss, and even now,
Now that I'm not nearly as much of a wuss as I once was,
I still feel kind of wussy from time to time:
Residual wussiness-
The kind of thing you can never really leave behind.
That's the way it goes.

Heavy Holy Man

(hall, dogbowl, delaszlo)

The Heavy Holy Man sits on the hill,
Holding hard wooden ball.
Hears mysteries of the universe unfolding but blocks it all out.
He has one eye pointed toward the sky,
As the other searches over the earth
For dinner.
Without ever once leaving his hill
The Heavy Holy Man has sampled fast food from all over western Europe:
Wimpyburgers from London,
Wonderburgers from Dublin,
And his favorite, Hitburgers from Paris,
Which he ate whenever he had some free time.
This particular day, however,
The Heavy Holy Man travelled to Amsterdam,
To Febo's,
Where he put one and a half guilders in the slot,
Opened the little door,
And pulled out his Feboburger and Febonapkin,
All without ever leaving the hill.
Then the Heavy Holy Man smiled,
His faith reaffirmed once again.
"All the treasures of this, or any other world, are mine for the asking,"
He thought to himself.

Fluting On The Hump


I can't relate to people
Who rush to catch the train
So much strain
For such a momentary gain

Why not just once
Try to live a day
In a leisurely way
Like in those paintings by Duboffet

Fluting on the hump
Fluting on the hump
Like an Arab taking a ride on a camel
Fluting on the hump

Fluting on the hump
Fluting on the hump
Like an Arab taking a slow ride
Fluting on the hump

Fluting on the hump
Fluting on the hump
Like a desert man riding on the sand on a camel
Fluting on the hump

Fluting on the hump
Like an Arab taking a slow ride
Fluting on the hump

Fluting on the hump
Fluting on the hump


(hall, dogbowl, delaszlo)

Dick was obsessed with his dick.
He would beat off at least three times a day:
In the morning, when he woke up,
Right after or right before dinner,
Or right before he went to sleep.
If he didn't get in his three daily beat-off sessions,
He was a pain in the ass to be around.
He jerked off to tv-
Especially I Dream of Jenie and Dynasty and Charlie's Angels;
He pulled his pud to porno books;
He even jerked off
To the underwear ads
In the magazine section of the Sunday New York Times.
If you were a girl, talking to him on the phone,
Chances are he was beating his meat to the sound of your voice.
'Cause coming was his raison d'etre.
One time he was in the middle of jerking off to Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune
When a job offer came to him over the phone
And he needed the job bad
But he told the man he'd call him right back,
'Cause he needed to come more than he needed the job.
It wasn't that he was ugly or afraid of women or anything like that
He just honestly preferred his right hand.
I saw him the other day,
And he told me that last friday he was with two girls at their place
And they both wanted him to stay over.
But he went home,
Called up another girl,
and jacked off while talking to her.
I don't know why he tells me this stuff.
Dick's a fucked up guy.

That Old Dog

(hall, dogbowl)

I waited three and a half years for a train to Springfield, Ohio
I gave up and I began to walk, but I was so hungry
And its a damn good thing I was wearing shoes

I decided the cool thing to do would be to order some Hallah Bread and Turtle Soup
But I ordered a tuna salad sandwich
And some french fries
I mean, What the hell's the difference anyway

Look, the thing is,
I'm half way to Springfield,
Like I'm in Maryland someplace,
And the money runs out
I get some freelance welding work in Silver Spring and then-
And this was a big kick for me-
I put on my hat and I said "Sorry, Sue Ellen, but I got to be moving on."
As it turned out, I never did get to Springfield, Ohio.
Oh, but sometimes,
Sometimes when the moon is full
I can hear that old dog howling
Howling, like he was right outside my own window.

Mystical Shit

1. TitleTrack
2. Rock 'N Roll Will Never Die
3. No Point
4. Gary and Melissa
5. Frightened & Freezing
6. How to Remember Your Dreams
7. The Fish That Played The Ponies
8. Jesus was way cool
9. Open
10. The Sandbox
11. The Niether World
12. She Didn't Want
13. Cheesecake Truck
14. Equivalencies
15. Love You More
16. Fourthly

Title Track


(Begins with nearly a minute of another language Sounds almost Hindu but I am not sure)

This is it
This is mystical shit

Rock n'Roll Will Never Die


Nah, but
I'm sorry
But look I'm sorry
But, Rock n Roll?
Rock n' Roll will never die
It's going nowhere
It's here to stay
What are you, fucking stupid?
I'm sorry but nah but you're fucking high
If you think rock n' roll will ever die
You're cracked up out of your fucking mind

Nah 'cause Rock n' Roll is here to stay
It will never go away
Look at Def Leopard
Drummer's got one fucking arm
Look at the Rolling Stones
They've been around for forty five fucking years
Look at Guns and Roses
Need I say more

Nah 'cause I'm sorry
But look I'm sorry but
But Rock n' Roll is not moving
It's going nowhere
It's here to stay

No Point


There is no point to life
There is no point to death
There is no point in continuing our meetings
There is no point in not continuing our meetings

There is no point is going out
There is no point in staying in
No point in gaining weight
And no point in keeping trim
There is no point in answering the phone or opening the mail

There is no point in getting drunk or doing drugs
And there is no point in staying sober
There is no point in needing someone and no point in being alone
There is no point in doing nothing and no point in not doing nothing

These are all good points, yet none of them lead anywhere
None of them are points at all
There are no points
There is no point

Gary And Melissa


Gary and Melissa loved to make love
Loved to make love
Loved to make love
Over and over and over again

For the first few weeks of their relationship,
They made love four or five times a night
They were really turned on for a while

Then, to heighten their passion,BR> They bought sex books:
The Joy of Sex,
The Sensuous Couple
The Joy of Sex Part Two,
The Kama Sutra,
Even Yet Still More Joy of Sex
Popular Mechanics,
Betty Crocker

They tried as many positions as they were capable of
They were really turned on for a while

Then, to heighten their passion,
They bought sex toys:
Ben Wah Balls,
French Ticklers
Nipple clamps,
Cock Rings
Whips and Chains and Bondage gear
Bowling Balls,
Commemorative Statuettes of Liberty
They were really turned on for a while

They set up a video camera and taped themselves having sex
Then they watched it on the VCR while having more sex
Then, to heighten their passion,
Gary taped Melissa having sex with some of his friends
And Melissa taped Gary having sex with some of her friends
Then they watched it on the VCR while having more sex
They were really turned on

As the years went by,
Gary and Melissa became fine upstanding members of their community
Although they never married,
Their relationship outlasted all the marriages on their block
And they never fought,
Except to heighten their passion
They had made an agreement that when one of them died,
The other would continue to live with and make love to the corpse,
But as luck would have it,
They were both killed in a freak accident
And died at the exact same moment, holding hands

Frightened And Freezing


Frightened and Freezing
Everyone is so cold
Every time I touch something
My fingers get burned
Icy hot-scary world

Somebody is Howling
Nobody is hearing
Somebody is hungry
Nobody is hoping

Wicked and Windy World
Spinning too fast
Dizzy Sleepy
Don't Want to Be here, it's not
Not funny anymore

Everybody is an icicle
Everybody is a stone
Everybody have a gray face on
Everybody wanna be alone

Burning Smoking Melting
Boiling Burning Sweating
Melting Smoking Boiling
Sweating Burning Boiling
Melting Melting Melting

Frightened and Freezing
Everyone is so cold
Every time I touch someone
My body gets burned

Everybody is an icicle
Everybody is a stone
Everybody got their hot in a box
Everybody wanna be alone

How To Remember Your Dreams


In order to remember your dreams,
You must think of them as if they were little kittens
When you wake up in the morning
Before you get out of bed
Sit up and say
"Here, kitty kitty, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Here, kitty kitty, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Here, kitty kitty, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Here, kitty kitty, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Here, kitty kitty, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty "

If this doesn't work,
You must go into the kitchen and pour out a saucer of cream
Place it by the foot of the bed and say,
"Here, kitty kitty, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Here, kitty kitty, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Here, kitty kitty, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Here, kitty kitty, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Here, kitty kitty, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Here, kitty kitty, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Here, kitty kitty, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty "

When the kitty gets the cream, the dream is remembered

The Fish That Played The Ponies


Once upon a time,
Somewhere in the Ocean somewhere,
There lived a Fish,
The King of the Fish
The King of the Fish was not happy
He wanted to be more than just to be the King of the Fish
He wanted to be King of the whole Ocean
He wanted power over the whales and porpoises,
Giant sea tortoises,
Mollusks, crustaceans, and all the underwater plant life
And he wanted to own all the Salt in the Ocean
He was a big fat pig of a Fish
His greed angered the Ocean,
But the ocean knew the Fish would never succeed
Then the Fish learned to walk on the land
He stood upon the shore and laugh at the Ocean
He climbed trees and learned the secret of fire
He took a job as a investment banker,
And spent a lot of time at the racetrack,
Playing the Ponies
The ocean swore revenge
Then one day,
The Fish was vacationing in the Caribbean,
Sunbathing on the beach,
Laughing at the Ocean
A giant Wave came and swallowed the little Fish up
And he drowned
This is the fable of the Fish that played the Ponies
It is important to keep in mind that in this story,
The Fish is not meant to symbolize Christ

Jesus Was Way Cool


Jesus was way cool
Everybody liked Jesus
Everybody wanted to hang out with him
Anything he wanted to do, he did
He turned water into wine,
And if he had wanted to,
He could have turned wheat into marijuana,
Sugar into cocaine,
Or vitamin pills into amphetamines
He walked on the water and swam on the land
He would tell these stories and people would listen
He was really cool
If you were blind, or lame,
You just went up to Jesus*
And he would put his hands on you and you would be healed
That's so cool

He could have played guitar better than Hendrix
He could have told the future
He could have baked the most delicious cake in the world
He could have scored more goals than Wayne Gretsky
He could have danced better than Barishnikof
Jesus could have been funnier than any comedian you can think of

Jesus told people to eat his body and drink his blood
That's so cool Jesus was so cool
But then some people got jealous of how cool he was,
So they killed him
But then he rose from the dead!
He rose from the dead,
Danced around and went up to heaven
I mean, that's so cool
Jesus was way cool
No wonder there are so many Christians



Open the door to your heart and your mind
There are so many places to go
Open the gateway to a new time
There are so many things to know

(These next three lines are probably spelled horribly, I just listened to pronunciation) Ishae Oluwah Kolebajahwo-Open
Nam Mioho Renge Kyo
Nam Mioho Renge Kyo-Open

Open the porthole and stare at the sea
Open the window and learn how to breathe
Open the curtains look at the movie
Open your soul and learn how to believe

(These next three lines are probably spelled horribly, I just listened to pronunciation) Govinda Adi Purasham Tam Aham Mujami-Open
(I do believe that this line is correct) Govinda Jaya Jaya Gopalla Jaya Jaya
Rhadharamana Hari-Open

Ishe Oluwah Kolebajahwo-Open
Nam Mioho Renge Kyo
Nam Mioho Renge Kyo-Open
Govinda Adi Purasham Tam Aham Bhajami-Open
Govinda Jaya Jaya Gopalla Jaya Jaya
Rhadharamana Hari-Open

The Sandbox


And I would go
And I would go everyday almost to the sandbox
And 'cause I loved the sandbox so much
And 'cause I had my pail and my shovel
And and my shovel

And I would play in the sandbox
And it would be so fun
And I would make mountains in the sand
And I would have so much fun

And and but one day I went to the sandbox
And it was so sad
And I cried and I cried because
Someone took a doody in my sandbox
Someone took a doody in my sandbox

And that was so bad
And that was so disgusting
And how could they do that
And and that was so bad

And and and I didn't see it
And and I sat right down in it
And it felt squishy and I got up
And I cried and I cried and I cried

And why didn't they clean up after themselves
Why didn't they clean up the mess

And now my pants are dirty
And I'm crying and I'm crying and I'm crying
And I'm never going to the sandbox again
I'm never going to the sandbox again
And I hate everybody

The Neither World


In the Neither World,
Everything is Versed and Reversed
The Neither World Contains and Corrects all Contradictions
All Division Collapses into Itself,
Into Unity

Forever is Never in the Neither World
To Connect is to Sever
All is One is Several is None

The Foundation is in the Abyss
The Truth is the Lamb is the Fish
The Key is in the Sunlight in the Window

The Virgin Chases the Moon
The Lamb is Slaughtered and We All Drink the Blood
We All Drink the Blood in the Neither World of Sameck

She Didn't Want


She was surrounded by a warm glow
She felt calm and relaxed
For a change

It all started to seem so funny to her
So meaningless, so beautiful
For a change

She didn't want to kill
She didn't want to die
She didn't want to live
She didn't want to lie

All hunger was gone
All desire
She didn't care what was on the television today

She didn't want to know
She didn't want not to know
She didn't want
For a change

She didn't want to suffer
She didn't want to bleed
She didn't want to masturbate
She didn't want to need

The universe was singing to her
She was singing
The universe was breathing to her
She was breathing
The universe was crying to her
She was crying

She was feeling it all
And it was so much for her
Almost too much for her
She passes out

She wakes up years later
No time has passed
Nothing has changed
No news is good news
She says

Cheesecake Truck


So then I got this idea about driving a cheesecake truck,
'Cause I figured at the end of the day,
I could take some of the leftover cheesecakes home
And I love cheesecake
So I went to the cheesecake company
And they asked me if I could drive a truck
And I said "Yes"
And they said "You're hired!"
So the next day I got in the truck with all the cheesecakes
And I drove about a block and I just had to have a cheesecake
So I pulled over and opened the truck
And I got a cheesecake
And I also took another one for later
And I took one to bring home
And I took one for my friend Farm boy,
And by that time I had
Eaten one of the cheesecakes so I took another one
Then I figured I might as well stop at my house
To drop off all the cheesecakes
So I take five cakes to eat on the way
and I drive another block and a half to my house
Now it's lunchtime so I eat ten cheesecakes
And a cheesecake for desert
I should point out by the way
That all of these cheesecakes were very delicious
Anyway I decided that the only thing to do
Would be to eat all the rest of the cheesecakes
And hide the truck somewhere
And leave town
And I miss everybody a lot
But I'm not really sorry,
'Cause they were very delicious cheesecakes





Sanitary Napkin=Monkey Wrench
Secret Sauce=Apocalypse


Jesus=Porkpie Hat
Peace=Used Car
Abstract Expressionism=Boston Creme Filled Doughnut
Mysticism=Dot Matrix

Love You More


I'm in love again, oh-oh
Been like this before, oh-oh
I'm in love again, oh-oh
This times true I'm sure, ooh-ooh
Don't wanna be hurt like no nightly wonder, ooh-oh
I been hurt so many times before, oh-ooh
So my darling, I will never leave you, oh-oh
You can tell I've learned to always, LOVE YOU MORE, oooh-ooh

Love you more,
Love you more,
It's my heart again, oh-oh

That drives me so wild, oh-oh
I just can't explain, oh-oh
Although I'm not a child, oh-oh
So why would I cry if you ever left me, ooh-ooh
Maybe 'cause your all I'm living for, ooh-ooh With every heart beat I want you badly, ooh-ooh
Until I've learned to always, LOVE YOU MORE, oooh-oooh

Love you more,
Love you more,

Oh my love again, oh-oh
What I say is true, oh-oh
Though it may sound plain, oh-oh
I love you,

I if this is part of me that I can offer, oh-oh
And if this is the true love then I am sure, ooh-ooh
That after this love there be no other, ooh-ooh
Until the razor cut.



Firstly, you begin
Secondly, you continue
Thirdly, you end

Happy Hour

1. Some tweaked sound byte
2. Sink
3. Martin Scorsese
4. (Why are we) Trapped?
5. It's Saturday
6. VvV (VulvaVoid)
7. Metanioa
8. Detachable Penis
9. Take Me Home
10. Anywhere
11. The Evil Children
12. Glass
13. And
14. King Murdock
15. I'm Sorry
16. Heaven
17. Happy Hour


In the sinking all is holy
Holy holy down the sink

Holy sinking 
Sinking down the hole

Holy Holy sinking down         All is holy in the hole
Holy sinking down the hole Down the holy holy sinking Down the sinking holy holy All is holy in the sink SInking holy holy down Sinking down the hole All is sinking down the hole Holy sinking Sinking down the hole Holy sinking Sinking down the hole All is holy down the sink Sink sink sink sink sink Holy holy all is holy Sinking down the holy down In the sinking all is holy Holy Sinking down the sinking Sinking holy down the sink Holy holy holy sinking All is sinking down the holy Holy holy all is sinking All is sinking All is sinking Sink sink sink sink sink

Martin Scorsese

This one is called Martin Scorsese
He makes the best fucking films
He makes the best fucking films
If I ever meet him, I'm gonna grab his fucking neck and just shake him and
say "Thank you. Thank you for making suck excellent fucking movies
Then I'd twist his nose all the way the fuck around
and then ripoff one of his ears and throw it like a like a
Like a fucking frisbee
I wanna chew his fucking lips off
and grab his head and suck out one of his eyes and chew on it and spit it
out in his face and say thank you thank you for all of your fuking films
Then I'd pick him up by the hair
swing him over my head a few times
and throw him across the room and kick all his fucking teeth in and then stomp on his face forty or fifty times
and throw him across the room and kcik all his fucking teeth in and
then stomp on his face forty or fifty times
cuase he makes the bestfucking films
he makes the best fucking films I've ever seen in my life
I fucking love him

I fucking love him

(Why are we) Trapped?

Why are we trapped here in the dark so long?
               It's so wet and dark and cold
     We've done everything you told us to do
     Are we going to have to suffer forever?
Why are we trapped here in the dark so long?
     We've done everything you told us to do
     We've done everything you told us to do 
                        We don't belong here
                       We were meant to sing
                                  Let us out
                                      Let us

                    We're drowning quicksand
                 We're freezing in the water
              We hallucinate in the darkness
               We're praying for deliverance
     We've done everything you told us to do
     We've done everything you told us to do
                        We don't belong here
                  We want to go out and play
                        We don't belong here
                       We were meant to sing
                                  Let us out
                                  Let us out


I want to be different, like everybody else I want to be like
I want to be just like all the different people
I have no further interest in being the same,
because I have seen diffeence all around,
and now I know that that's what I want
I don't want to blend in and be indistinguishable,
I want to be a part of the diffenet crowd
and assert my individuality along with others
who are different like me
I don'nt want to be identical to anyone or anything
I don't evenwant to be identical to myself
I want to look in the mirror and wonder,
"who is that person? I've never seen that person before;
I've never seen anyone like that before."
I want to call into question the very idea that
identity can be attached
I want a floating, shifting, ever changing persona:
Invisibility and obscurity,
detachmetn form the ego and allof it's pursuits
Unity is useless
Conformity is competitve and divisive and leads only to
stagnation and death.
If what I'm saying doesn't make any sense,
that's because sense can not be made
It's something that must be sensed
And I, for one, am incensed by all of this complacency
Why oppose war only when there's a war?
Why defend the clinics only when they're attacked?
Why are we always reactive?
Let's acrivate something
Let's fuck shit up
Whatever happened to revolution for the hell of it?
Whatever happened to protesting nothing in particular, just
protesting cause it's Saterday and there's nothing else to do?

VvV (VulvaVoid)

Clinging   to   the   end   of   time  Crawling
stairs,   climbing   floors   Pretend    it'
such  a  desperate   situation   Falling
leaves  of   abstinence   Listening in
to   glistening  skin    While   the
patriarchy      bleeds       Long
division,     indecision    Sad
sad   sadness  in  the  trees
Stowaways  on  a  stinking
ship  Punching  out the 
eye    in   the   sky
Feeling   up   the
ferris     wheel
  Lapping up the 


                                      Bassinets, clarinets, 
                                       Proletarion chariots
                                 Polyusaturaed cinemaplexi- 
                                           Glass cathedrals 
                                          Anxious daffodils 
                                Falling off hte window sill
    But better still a slepping pill L-tryptophan's illegal
                                     Squirming, unlearining 
                           Swirling in a cloud of unknowing 
                                          Silence, violence 
                           Swirling in a cloud of unknowing 
                                   Hellacool swimming pools 
                                 Corporate tools vestibules 
                                    Herring bones monotones
                                      Macrocosmic snowcones
                                           Stroking the ego
                         Wrapping it up a swaddling clothes
                            Anointing it with aluminum foil
                                     Squirming, unlearining
                           Twirling in a cloud of unknowing
                                          Silence, violence
                           Twirling in a cloud of unknowing
                                   Aluminum Siding salesmen
Drowing in a sea of alliteratoin Relentlessly searching for
                                       Non existent clarity
                          Big fat bluffin' anguished muffin
                               Bad Brain H.R. Puffinstuffin
                                         Dirt socks, Onobox
                                  Goldilox and cream cheese
                                    Drunken boat billy goat
                              Trapped in Annette Funnicello
                      Full of fish and roses and the posies
                                      Squirming, unlearning
                            Pudding in a cloud of unknowing
                                          Silence, Violence
                            Pudding in a cloud of unknowing
                          Quantum Pluming, the pineal gland
                         The sixth chakra, the seventh seal
                  Enveloping pelicans pecking at the crumbs
                                           Of enlightenment
       Retrograde planets plunging into the arms of America

Detachable Penis

I woke up this morning with a bad hangover and my penis was missing again. This happens all hte time; it's detachable. This comes in handy a lot of the time; I can leave it home when I thnk it's gonna get me in trouble, or I can rent it out when I don't need it. But now and then I go to a party, get drunk, and the next morning, I can't, for the life of me, remember what I did with it. First I looked around my apartment, and I couldn't find it, so I called up the place hwere the party was, they hadn't seen it either. I asked them to check the medicine cabinet , 'ccause for some reason, I leave it there sometimes, but no this time.
So I told them if it pops up to let me know. I called a few people who were at the party, but they were no help either.

I was starting to get desperate I really don't like being without my penis for too long. It makes me feel like less of a man, and I really hate having to sit down every time I take a leak.

After a few hours of searching the house, and calling everyone I could think of, I was starting to get very depressed, so I went to the Kiev and ate breakfast. Then as I walked down Second Avenue, toward St Mark's Place, where all those people sell used books and other junk on the street, I saw my penis lying on a blanket next to a broken toaster oven - some guy was selling it! I had to but it off him. He wanted 22 bucks, but I talked him down to 17. I took it home, washed it off, and put it back on. I was happy again: complete. People sometimes tell me I should get it permanently attached, but I don't know. Even though sometimes it's a pain in the ass, I like having a detachable penis.

Take Me Home

Take me home, take me home
Take me home and throw me down
Take me home, take me home
Take me home and tie me up

'Cause you're the one my body's been waiting, aching for You're the one I
need in my darkest hour
You're the one who knows what a hypocrite I am
You're the one who knows my whole life is a pathetic sham

Take me home, take me home
Take me home and tie me up
Take me home, take me home
Take me home and spit in my face

Take me home, take me home
Take me home and spit in my face
Take me home, take me home
Take me home and kick me hard

'Cause you're the one I trust enough You're the one I
trust enough to hurt me
You're the only one I want you to give me what I deserve You're the only
one I trust and the only one with the nerve


Ed was at the end of his rope, an expression he detested. "There is no rope!" he would scream at the laughing walls. "There is only the end. No hope, no rope. Ending is better than mending. Doors of perception, windows of opportunity - these are the illusions, like the killing floor." Ed spoke in a squeaky voice with perhaps a slight tinge of glee, but this was only because he couldn't be bothered to try to develop a manner of speaking that truly reflected his mood. "This is a vacuum. There is no air in this room. Despair is no fun anymore. Nihilism knocked three times on the ceiling, but the rosy fingers of dawn always inserted themselves in the nose of unfulfilled promises. Angels sang Heysanna Hosanna, paralyzed prima-donnas danced in the streets all day, but when the darkness came, everybody went home. I was ready - everyone else was asleep. And while it may have been a relief to see that I was right all along, here I am still: alone and trapped, awaiting the endless end.

"And I can turn it all around, and laugh at it and laugh at myself; I can laugh louder than the walls, the halls the waterfalls, louder than Charles de Gaul or Fulton Mall, but I don't know what I'm laughing at. I don't know just what I think is so goddamn funny. I don't know why I don't just shut up and give up and lay down and die. What do I have to complain about anyway," Ed asked his Picasso, "I'm a millionaire!" This wasn't actually true. Ed's Picasso was an obvious forgery, his three Rothkos had just been singled out in an article in ARTFORUM entitled "The three most insignificant painting of Mark Rothko," and his Barbara Kruegers had been irreparably damaged by Rein Sanction and a few other bands from Gainesville that refused to acknowledge the value of art.

"Come to think of it," Ed mused to the laminated roadkill coffee table that he had purchased when times had seemed slightly less bleak, "Come to think of it, not only does art have no intrinsic value, but my collection had no extrinsic value either. I know I'm not a millionaire, but that's no reason to complain. There is no reason to complain. There is no reason to do anything, I don't believe in reason, objective reality, or collective farming. I don't believe in public speaking, which is another reason why I'm here alone. I don't believe in life or death. I would kill myself, but I don't believe in suicide." Ed put on a red shirt and took a quick walk around the block while whistling softly to himself. He reentered his apartment screaming. "There is no life on this planet! Jehovah-One replaced all life with machinery five centuries ago. The so-called industrial revolution was just another hoax and we all fell for it, 'cause we were all programmed to. Even I fell for it. I believe in the steam engine, even though I don't believe in anything. Logical inconsistency is the Mr. bubble I bathe in each and every evening, except for yesterday evening, when I rollerbladed over to the Masonic temple to play pinocle with Pope John Paul the First. I really had no choice in the matter." "Ed certainly could go on and on, and he did, and he would, and he will, until you or I or somebody does something about it," Senator Sterno of Arkansas announced over closed circuit television. "And as long as he continues to pontificate pointlessly, I will do nothing." Ed walked away from the program feeling fortified and stapled. His brain was buzzing, the way it always did just after Jeopardy. He loaded up the microbus with Atlases and posiedons and headed for Pope country.

"I've had it." He sang, "I've had it with puns, alliteration, Russian literature, Italian neo-realism, meaningless cross references and laundry lists of nonsense. I shall drive without a license, without clothing, without direction and if I make it to Louisianna, fine, and if I'm running late, if I'm running a numbers game, it doesn't matter, I shall keep on running. Yes, this is the answer. This is the ending. I shall keep on running, because a body in motion tends to stay emotional, and it's better to feel. Pain is better than emptiness, emptiness is better than nothing, and nothing is better than this."


                   I could be here
             I could be in a salad
            I could be out of town
            I could be in paradise

               I could be anywhere
               I could be anywhere

  I could be near the refrigerator
            I could be on the roof
         I could be in Mesopotamia
I could be back in the salad again
               I could be anywhere
               I could be anywhere
               I could be anywhere

             I could be in transit
                I could be in pain
           I could be incandescent
                     I could be in
                    I could be out
                 It doesn't matter
                    Leave me alone

               I could be anywhere
               I could be anywhere
               I could be anywhere
               I could be anywhere

I could be back in the salad again

The Evil Children

And so
The very evil children
Took the dog out to play in the park

Then they took him home
And refused
To set him on fire
They were evil, evil, evil, children
And they refused to do
As they were told

They would say,
"Why should we leave the elderly woman In the middle
of the Expressway?
No way, we're not doing it."
Then they would go downstairs
And prepare
The Molotov cocktails,
Knowing full well
That when they were finished,
There was no way in hell
They were going to blow up
the neighbor's barn
They were evil, evil, evil children.

All their lives,
People expected them to do bad.
They almost
Never delivered*

*Last verse stolen from Roger Manning.


          Hey look at me 
                  Ay Hey 
       I'm Phillip Glass 
Hey look at me over here 
                 Hey Hey 
  Hey Einstein, Hey, get 
           off the beach 
            Hey Einstein 
           Hey, Hey look 
  Hey I'm Nixon in China 
                 Huh huh 
             huh huh hey 


And then
And then
And so
And like
And see
And look
I mean like be
And feel
And find
And go
I mean like yeah
And where
And who
And how
And there
And why
And so what

And now
And no
And yeah
And up
And so
I mean like in
And stop
And stay
And down
And oh
I mean like come
And then

King Murdock This is an instrumental track.

I'm Sorry

No, I never was in Vietnam
I never once dove into an empty
  swimming pool
I never let the carpet walk right out
  from under me
I never painted a house or a tree
I never did become an exotic dancer, or a
  customer service representative
I never took the pulse of a dying duck,
  or gave mouth to mouth
  resuscitation to a horse fly
In a way, I suppose you could say
  my experience is quite limited
For example, I never locked Oliver
  Cromwell in a broom closet while
  singing Waltzing Matilda
I never sawed television in half,
  although I once saw Wendy O.
  Williams saw a guitar
I never played a decent game of jacks
I never played poker with a toothless one
  eyed pirate who kept
  picking his teeth with a bowie knife to
  distract me, while his parrot looked
  over my shoulder and told him what
  cards I had by using an elaborate code
  involving vomiting, chirping,
  and sea chanteys
I never bought a lamp-wait; I did buy a
  lamp once
But I never bought a lantern, or a
  lambskin prophylactic
I never bought a loin or a
  Loinel Ritchie album
I never bought anthing beginning with
  the letter "L" except lollipops, light
  bulbs and lettuce and the lamp
I never laid down for a nap and found the
  Everly Brothers in bed with me
I never let a cyborg take out the garbage

I'm sorry
I stole the radio
I did it
I sawed the legs off the periodic table
I re-elected the president
I did it, it was my fault
I farted in the church
I'm sorry

I did many many bad things and I am so



                 It's so beautiful here
The swallows are swinging and swaying
                 Sweetly tweeting in the fruit trees
 Sparrows hip hop into my hands
                 And somehow I hold them
   And gently pet their wings
                 Why is this happening here, now?
     I was in tears yesterday
                 Tattered and near lifeless
       Have I died and passed into the afterworld?
                 I must have
         This is heaven
                 How did I get here?
           Let me retrace my steps
                 What happened yesterday?
             I was in tears yesterday, near lifeless
                 Something sad must've happened, but what?
              What was I crying about?
                  Is it over?
                Is it okay now?
                   Who am I talking to?
                 What's going on?
                      Oh no!
                  Now the sparrow is broken and mangled in my bloody hands
                        This is so awful
                   Giant flying insects are crawling all over me,
                          Biting and laughing
                    This is even worse than being alive
                            This is worse than being alive
                      Even worse than being alive
                               I hate this

Happy Hour

In this happy sing-song hell hole
In this torture house of glee
In this perfect playpen prison
There's so much to do and see

On this euthanasia morning
Colorful carnival of pain
Let us drink delicious poison
If they won't let us,
let's complain

Genetic engineers
Crucified our sacred hymns
While flesh fell off our bodies
And we lost our limbs

King Missle

1. Love is...
2. What if
3. Let's Have Sex
4. Pigs Will Fly
5. These People
6. Open Up
7. Wind Up Toys
8. Delores
9. Tongue
10. The Dishwasher
11. Socks
12. Bloodletting
13. Lies
14. The Commercial
15. King David's Dirge
16. Psalm
17. Happy Note

Love Is...

Love is beautiful
Like birds that sing
Love is not ugly
Like rats
In a puddle of vomit

Love is beautiful
Like the sunshine
And the dancing wind
Love is not ugly
Like puss
And lice
And tobacco snot
Love is beautiful

Love is beautiful
Like all the little animals
In a forest full of green
That smells like pine
And wonder
Love is not invisible brain control

And pain
And malicious intent
And lying all the time
Although it can be all of these things
And more

Love is a many splendoured thing
It is not a shipload of slaughtered pigs
Rotting and festering
In the bleating desert

Love is what love is
And love is not
What love is not

What If

One day
What if one day
What if I said
I wish I was a tree
And then, suddenly,
I was a tree
Then could I wish myself back?
No, trees can't wish.

What if I wished I was a wishing tree,
A tree that could wish?
What if i wished I was a toilet bowl,
And then I was one, and the wind
   changed and I stayed that way?

Or what if I wished I was a toilet bowl
And suddenly I was a tree!
Would I be able to say,
"Hey! I wanted to be a toilet bowl, not a tree?"
No, I wouldn't be able to say that,
Because trees can't talk
They don't have mouths.

I would have to have the foresight to say,
"I wish I was a toilet,
But if by some chance I'm turned into a tree instead,
I wish to be a tree with
    a mouth that can wish to be
  changed back into a human being!"
Because I'd only ever want to be a toilet or a tree for a
very brief
    period of time.
I guess this is the exact reason why they always say you
should be very
    careful what you wish for.

Let's Have Sex

I will slur And heel and hem and haw I will eat a monkey paw When you call me up and command me to come over to your house for sex and tea biscuits, I shall clandestinely drop my cumberbund down the dumbwaiter chute. Lutes will serenade us like liquid lemonade. You will glisten like newborn snow, and I will listen like a clairvoyant nipple clamp. It will be sex, like nobody has ever had it before in the history of postmodern lovemaking. It will be sex, even if it isn't. It will be sex, even if only in theory, even if it's only pantomine, even if it's just a memory, or a dream or a symphonic approximation; after a summer of autonomous sodomy and National Geographic specials about the pretty animals that use other animals as food by eating them. on television. But we shouldn't even watch television, we should just have sex: Epoch making, earth shaking, Teeth chattering, dish clattering, Fish frying, eye popping, Never stopping, bunny hopping, Toe tapping, Joseph Papping sex, Shakespeare in the park kinda sex. D train to Coney Island vacation kinda sex. Clandestine in the airplane laboratory kind of sex, Olympic marathon sex. All the different ways that we feel like having sex, we should, until we grow old and bored and disillusioned. The let us rekindle our feelings, forget our despair and our celibate nonsense and do it like bunnyrats till the cows come home to roost. so call me sometime, and let's have sex.

Pigs Will Fly

I don't know what it is
That is or isn't inside me
That gives me that empty feeling
Inside of me

A voice said to put it all down
Pretend that it's all just a lie
When the lamb and lion lay down
Side by side
Pigs will fly
Little one
Pigs will fly

I don't know what it is
That gives me that empty feeling
A feeling that can't be filled
With sex, food or coffee
But one thing I know
There is blood in the sky
When the lamb and the lion lay down
Side by side, pigs will fly

I see not
I say not
I cannot say why
I say not
I see not
I cannot say why
There is blood in the sky
There is mud in my eye

These People

The people here
Are so hospitable
They have given me their best blanket
And such soft pillows
They are so kind
I am crying

And i think it is violently rude of them
To make me feel so guilty
I barely know them
And yet here they are
Extending every courtesy,
And being so caring
And so considerate
That I just want to burn their house down
Right now
While they are sleeping

Open Up

What's inside of me
What hunger drives me
To drive myself
What makes me feel
That I will be filled

If I open you up
And open up to you
These things going thorugh my mind
Are things I'd never do

What do I know
That I don't know
What can I do to me
That I haven't already
Done to myself

We got a long day ahead
And we got a long way to go

Wind Up Toys

If most of us were wind up-toys
Could we trust the few of us that weren't
To wind us up when necessary?
I think not
We would be a separate oppressed minority
Even if we were in the majority
It would still be that way

The ones that weren't wind-up toys
Would have the upper hand
And we would have to look out for each other
Because they wouldn't

They would only wind up those that they saw fit
Those that conformed to their ways

If most of us were wind-up toys
It would be in our interest
To learn to wind ourselves up
Or wind each other up
That's reality
That's the way it is


The air was breathing, but I nearly suffocated
in my sarcophagus
Where the antelopes wear underwear on their antlers:
On my mantle, memories recede, but cost of living
adjustments dance the
    Charleston at the Rosebud of resplendent nostalgia:

The walls are dripping, and tonight the faces are on the
ceiling, are
    they are suspiciously silent:
There was a fire tonight, when the world weary smile:
There was a pillow plummeting like invisible carbon in a
passion play:

If this is only going from A to B and back again, how
come when I clothes my eyes, I see bedsprings and
excrement in deep focus:
Dirty deals that only I am privy to, elegant cobblestone
goblets, bone
    orchard china, parsips and lichen:

Puke on me, Delores:
Are you married or lesbian, are you a celibate Buddist
or are you just detached and unavailable like me:
More to the point where are you : where were you:
I went to the high school reunion, and Delores, there was
no puke:

It's a sad lonely song by the barnyard, 'cause Delores
ain't sick to
    her stomach no more:


There was somebody else's tongue in my mouth (3x)
And I don't know where it came from

There was somebody else's hand on my tongue (3x)
and now my mouth is missing
Somebody should shut me up
Somebody better shut me up that's for sure
Somebody should shut my white ass up,
sure a chicken fried steak

there was somebody else's fist on my throat (3x)
And I sure better learn how to rhumba

The Dishwasher

He looked late 30's, maybe mid 30's. Tall, maybe six feet. I saw him in the Guatemalan clothing place. He was thin and hungry. They sold jewelry there too, I noticed some bracelets with Sanskrit writing on them. I think the woman behind the counter looked like she was Indian, not American-Indian, Indian-Indian. She had a weird smile on her face as I walked in. I was looking at the bracelets. He said he was looking for work. He said, "I applied for work as a dishwasher over at the hotel. I'll find out tomorrow, but if they don't, there's six other places looking for dishwashers."

She's smiling at him, and I'm realizing now, hours later, she didn't know him. He says, "See ya," and leaves, and I'm still looking at stuff. She looks real nervous. She's not Indian: too light skinned, maybe- I don't know, but she didn't speak English very well. So he says, "See ya," and leaves, and I'm looking at stuff, and I'm realizing now, hours later, she didn't she didn't know him, she was just going along with him. And he obviously wasn't a customer either, 'cause he said he was looking for work. He applied fopr work as a dishwasher. They don't make a lot of money. Something was going on. He was desperate: maybe he went in there to try and sell something, but no, I think he was trying to distract her so he could, so he could maybe take something.

He was thin and hungry, and desperate; I mean, he obviously wasn't a customer, but I didn't figure it out till later, after the movie, I'm walking back, and I'm playing the movie back in my head and I'm playing the scene back in my head, in the store: he looked 30's, maybe mid 30's, maybe six feet, in the Guatemalan place, they sold bracelets with Sanskrit wrintg on them, the woman behind the counter was light-skinned, she didn't speak English very well. I should have done something, I should have realized. I should have paid attention. I should've been awake. He told her he was looking for work as a dishwasher.

I didn't really get a good look at him. He looked like a dishwasher. I believed him, but now I think he was lying. I think he took something. She seemed real nervous. I should have done something. I didn't know. Is she alright? Do you think he-did she identify him? If she's dead now, how did you get my name? I don't know any dishwashers. No, I never was in Vietnam. She diefinitely wasn't Vietnamese. Is she dead? Do you think he. He looked 30's. I think he stole something. Do you think he killed her?




I'm inundated
I can't-
No, I'm sorry
This won't do
I cannot have this
This is too many
I cannot have this many socks
Please take some of these socks
immediately away at once

Ah, yes
That is much better
Thank you
This is much more manageable
This is quite good
This is quite precisely the quintessentially right number
I am extremely pleased
Thank you


To live here now, lying down
Living as one of the bloodless
Having been done with bloodletting
Having let all of the blood out
Having been bled dry by leeches
Having let leeches bloodlet you
Lifeless and bloodless
You lie as you live without life,
Lying lifeless and bloodless
Lifelessly, bloodlessly
Bleeding without bloodshed
All blood having been shed
The shower of leeches that sucked you dry
The shower of blood that cleanses and dies
Dyes you red dyeing
Red lying
Dead lying bled
Shining in red
Said the leacherous leech
Feed the red anger
Drown in the shower
Bathe in the blender
The sender-receiver of life
That you lie
That you dye as you bleed
As you flee like a leech
Get the lead out
Let the blood out


A narrative framework
Another break with illusion
A cognitive fallacy
Imaginary reality
These are all lies
These are all lies
Nocturnal emission
Fraternal incision
Internal submission
Eternal division

All of this fakery
Artifice, trickery
Phoniness, fakery
Arificial, artificial

Taking it easy
This could be all there is
Taking it easy
Maybe it comes too soon
May never happen again
Saying it's all for nothing
May never get there again
May never happen again

Typical, typical
Typographical hypodermic
Demographic epilogues
Illogical dialogues

Biological monologue
Obsolete novelty
Original replicas
Typical typical
These are all lies

The Commercial

Lately, I've seen red
I've tasted blood
I've killed with words
I've wished and hoped and
Swam through a river of snot
Twice as wide as the mighty Mississippi

But I wanna know about the commercia
l I saw on TV
An Irish guy
Walking through a field of green
Whistling one of those Irish jigs
And a woman walks up and says
"Manly yes, but I like it too."

Then the guy pulls out a huge knife
And cuts off his first two fingers
And somehow catches them
In what's left of his left hand
And hands them to the woman
Did I mention they're both dressed in green?

They they both sing this song together
"Are ya icky? Are ya sticky?
Are ya hot as anything?
Hey cut off two of your fingers
And stab yourself in the eye!"

Then he stabs himself in the eye
And hands her the knife
And she stabs herself in the eye-okay?
so what about that?

Then they join arms
And do this Irish folk dance
While taking turns dismembering each other
This was a commercial for deodorant, I think
Or soap or something

So now all the body parts
Are lying in a heap
But the heads are still singing
"Are ya icky? Are ya sticky?
Are ya hot as anything?
Hey! get away from summer
And cut off all your limbs!"

Then all of the body parts
Start hopping and bopping around
Like little bunny rats
Then they jump into the mouths of the singing heads
But then they just slip right back out
Through the severed necks and keep bopping about

It's very beautiful music that's playing
There's an Irish flute
And a mandolin, I think
And the background singers sound
Just like the Clancy brothers

It's really a wonderful commercial
It must of cost a fortune to make
The kind of commercial you'd see
During the Super Bowl, maybe
Where the advertising time costs
A million dollars
A half a minute
Wow, imagine that
A million dollars
For a half a minute

By the end of it
It looks like the two of them
have been through a juicer
Or a food processor
Or a blender or something
It's just a pink puree of
Blood, bone and flesh in a big bucket
But it's still singing somehow
"Are ya icky? Are ya sticky?
Are ya hot as anything?
Hey! Blend yourself, process yourself
Become a glass of animal juice!

Haven't you had enough
Of fruit juices and vegetable juices?
Next time company comes over
Offer them a cool refreshing glass of yourself!
Give of yourself
Stop being such a selfish piece of snot
Okay? Okay? Okay!"

"And now, back to our program."

King David's Dirge

This is an instrumental.


My body's been altared
Drawn and quartered
A shower-the shower saved me
Saved me cut me bled me
Dead me, I would've been
Like as if it could've been
Oh, it never should've been
But why, I don't know
On the darkness, of the depth

And the blood and the body
Oh so badly shaken up
Like nothing I ever
And never you know
I cannot, I can't
Just give me some water to drown myself clean
Like I never have been
But I am
I cared and I stared
And I melted and cracked
And I never felt stronger than this I swear

If I could I would blaspheme my way to you
Just give me the courage and the glossary
Let me turn my own words against me
And perish in the process
Let my obsolescence blossom and propagate
Until every inkling of me passes away
Passes along, passes on

Happy Note

I don't know why
I'm always inclined
To end on a happy note
Though the point may be mute
like a ten year old boy
With his throat
And his dreams
Ripped out by wolves