I nowhere I am
Cafeteria food washed down with gasoline
Standing by the instructions written on the machine
Objects never are closer than they appear
How wonderful it is moving stuck to a seat
Flying neon maps, my windows wont suck them in
Bottom Line: I have no geographical memory
My car is a Dinosaur
History will eat me
Who is this palm reader?
Does she have fleas?
My car is a Dinosaur
A dollar’s just a dollar
Atlas is a crushed quark
I will pay in Zen
I need a Geographical Magical Chip
Musical Chairs
A well disputed game of Musical Chairs
I left you standing, left you standing
Would you give me your seat if I said pretty please?
Could you bring me a towel? My nipples are hard from the breeze
I wanna see musicians plead
Bring the orchestra to its knees! To its knees!
Your insults stink on my clothes like a bad cigar
I left you standing, left you standing
Would you give me your seat if I said pretty please?
Could you bring me a towel? My nipples are hard from the breeze
I wanna see musicians plead
Bring the orchestra to its knees!
To its knees!
Buzz
butterfly in my ear
shame to not hear the colors (b)right
just a buzz
wont let me sleep
makes me dream of butterflies
give a ball
and stop the war
losing count of drinks and nights
why read drunk
if ill forget?
sucks to have a bad hair day
im terrified at the thought
of running out on office supplies
how many watts will it take
to blind me out of my sight?
why read drunk
if ill forget?
sucks to have a bad hair day
On why No.2 pencils have erasers.
I suppose foreshadowing does not lock free will
If I see myself writing with a pencil, barely there
death will be just like turning your TV set off
Though you and only you may be the lingering static dancing on our graves
Technologies don’t wait on faith
They wait on prophets fuckin’ up
Meanwhile I’m wondering which of the prophets to blame
Regular Joe vs The Unsalted Pretzels
Silly Putty dances on the hall with the Merry Tangerine
All around the room we’re finding ducks quacking on cocaine
Widowed Princess Tulip-Eye winks and passes her number all over the reign
Polar Teddy bears work overtime
Scraping salt off pretzels born
under the salted pretzel tree
The bears think they’re free
From salt pretzels are free
So one could grab a snack or let oneself be served on ice
in leather you look so nice
For the lonely drinkers and the starry eyed believing
beauty in sight
Would sing out loud the most courageous sounds
Melodious lies
If they’d only shoot their cell phones through the movie screen
and let them ring on Mars
Polar Teddy bears work overtime
Scraping salt off pretzels born
under the salted pretzel tree
The bears think they’re free
From salt pretzels are free
It is what it is and it’s something
So early it gets so late
Under the salted pretzel tree
That one’s not me
That one’s not me
Joe are you free?
Orange Day
We were lying on the grass
We were bouncing light
Caveman Love in the 21st Century (Part I)
red ink stains as opposed to a fresh clear view of unsullied mountain homes,
vicious naps taint the motif of running with bounty spears against a buffalo,
what does “being in a comfortable position” really really mean?
cant blame someone who stares at a wall wondering how to run with a javelin
it seems so not the purpose deciphering an age long riddle built into my dorm
im playing it out of focus not wanting to wake up before all alarms are off
the cave’s an echo chamber, its annoying how it never stops reminding me
how enclosed a space can get when it doesn’t let go of its lingering dichotomy
Caveman Love in the 21st Century (Part II)
are we all done with the time of bad tempered timing, of forgotten lines, of taking part as a stand in?
‘cause here we are hibernating in fast-track, with farsighted dreams, and nearsighted flashbacks
here we are reading warning labels out loud, mixing timelines with dust and eyelids with salt
We promised you and I would run red lights: You and I will run red lights
You and I will run red lights, You and I will run red lights
Yet we stand with limbs missing, we stand with bones hissing, we stand with fine blows to the head
In a bow to an oblivious home where there’s joy in you sniffing my ear
I will always blame you
You will always blame me
I bet you one day we still wont be able to laugh about it
It used to feel like home
Jungle on the Ceiling
That is not me on the hammock
Looking at the sky and finding out
That it really was the ceiling
It really was the ceiling
Coconut Juice and no raincoats
Grab onto the sand with my toes
But it really was the ceiling
It really was the ceiling
That is not me on the hammock
Looking at the sky not finding out
That it really was the ceiling
It really was the ceiling
There’s a jungle on the ceiling
A jungle on the ceiling
Ballad of an Iconoclast
Hey man!
What’s the deal?
Hey man!
Sort it out
Eat your fish
Pay the tab
Buying god a few rounds
Buying god a few rounds
Joining god for a drink
Joining god for a drink
Somebody stamped their fingers on the negative
Your face ain’t your face if scratched through its longevity
Odd as it is I found the mortal paper cut
Blind is not blind if colors grow and never rot
Time! It’s that time
Light is not light
Erase those thousand words
Behold my fear of a frozen mirror
Behold my fear of a frozen mirror
Drinking with god in a pub
Drinking with god in a pub
Where’s my wooden horsey?
A drop of ink has no shape
You kept my soul on film
labeled with my name
The pitch’s too high for me
Inaudible sign
If it ever talked to me
Words bounced back
Learn a storm through osmosis
Raise a flag and strike
I lost my will to sleep
Nevermind the scar