Maybe we can all hold hands
when the bloodletting is over
maybe we can look each other in the eye
as we wring the blood from our clothes
there's a place
where we can all be happy
but it's not here
and it's not now
there's an end coming
my heart races for it
and my mind stumbles toward it
there will be no
great and prolonged suffering
no truces, no lies
just the end of my tragic world
and no one but me
to witness it
I've determined there will be
no whimpering ending
no crying and no pain
just a split-second blip of fire and noise
the final exclamation for
every question I've ever had
There is rot in my gut
hate in my brain
there is the cold at the window
and the heat of you
waiting for me
we are all made of base things:
chemicals, DNA, bits of this and that
sown together
we walk and talk and act
somewhat human
what is it
amongst this mess we live in
that makes it worthwhile
there will always be pain
there will always be war
there won't always be you
or me, for that matter
these days are made for us
they dwindle, like everything created
these nights we burn through
in hope of more and better
but we all know
there is nothing better
the cold is here tonight
but tomorrow is burning through
with all the colors of love and trust
and faith
for the weak among us.
*Legion of Doom fan video. Sage Francis interspersed with Dashboard Confessional.*
On my soap box yelling into megaphones
killing hard rocks using carcasses as stepping stones
had to promise that I'd stop holding my marches
the day that Chris Columbus got crucified on golden arches
my pedestal was too tall to climb off
in fact that's the reason for the high horse
and from up here I see Marines and Hummers on a conquest
underdogs with wonderbras in a push-up contest
all for the sake of military recruitment
it felt like kent state the way they targeted the students
I galloped off whistling "Ohio."
the rest of them, stuck doing stand up at a cricket convention
who would they die for
breathe in for luck, breathe in so deep
this air is blessed, you share with me
clever ad campaign ain't worth
the time taken from minimum wage labor
I don't care how half-naked or fake she looks
she smells like dirty cash and aged paper books
what would she die for
slow down Gandhi, you're killin' em
slow down Gandhi, you're killin' em
hands down, this is the best day I can ever remember
I'll always remember
now it's whistle blower vs. the pistol holder
case dismissed, they'll lock you up and throw away the key witness
justice is the whim of a judge, check his chest density
it leaves much room for error, and the rest left to destiny
the west memphis 3 lost paradise
it's death penalty vs. suicidal tendencies
all I wanted was a fucking Pepsi
institution
making you think you're crazy as a billion dollar industry
if they could sell sanity in a bottle
they'd be charging for compressed air
and marketing healthcare
they demonize welfare
middle class eliminated
rich get richer til the poor get educated
but some of y'all still haven't grown into your face
and your face doesn't quite match your head
and I'm waiting for a brain to fill the dead space that's left
you're all, "Give me ethnicity or give me dreads"
trustafundian rebel without a cause for alarm,
cause when push turns to shove
you jump into your forefathers arms
he's a banker, you're part of the system
off go the dreadlocks in comes the income
the briefcase (the freebase)
stay quiet, stay near, stay close they can't hear
so we can get some. (In the background)
the sickness (the symptom)
when the cameras start rollin' stay the fuck outta the picture pilgrim
the briefcase (the freebase)
the sickness (the symptoms)
when the cameras start rollin'
slow down Gandhi, you're killin' em
mr. save the world, spare us the details
save the females from losing interest
and miss save the universe
you're a damsel in distress
tied down to a track of isolated incidents
generalize my disease
I need a taste of what it's like
living off the fat of kings
I play the scab at your hunger strike
slow down Gandhi, you're killin' em
one love, one life, one too many victims
republicrat, democran, one party system
media goes in a frenzy
they're stripped of their credentials
presidential candidates can't debate over this instrumental
let 'em freestyle, winner takes all
when the musics dead, I'll have Ted Nugent's head hangin' on my wall
kill one of ours, we'll kill one of yours
with some friendly fire, that's a funny term, like civil war
six in the morning, police at my crib
now my nights consist of two toothpicks and eyelids
the crucifix and vitamins, music that is pirated
new flavored food made of mutated hybrids
they tell me that it's not that bad
it fucks you up good, but its not that bad
they hold on to these tales till it's the dog that wags
God save us all if he lets the cat out the bag
who's the one to blame for this strain in my vocal chords
who can pen a hateful threat but can't hold a sword
it's the same who complain about the global war
but can't overthrow the local joker that they voted for
they call the shots
(but they're not in the line of fire)
I call the cops
(but they're breakin the line of duty)
lets call a stop to the abuse of authority
the truth keeps callin' me, and I'ma live to tell the story
So look for truth, quit seeking forgiveness
you need to cut the noose, but you don't believe in scissors
you support the troops by wearing yellow ribbons
just bring home my motherfuckin' brothers and sisters
cause they don't call the shots
(but they're in the line of fire)
I'd like to call the cops
(but they're breakin' the line of duty)
it's time to call a stop
(to the abuse of authority)
the truth keeps calling me
and I'ma live to tell the story.
*And now for something completely different. Okay, not that different. This band may have been huge had it come about during the grunge era. Lots of guitar and a heavy dose of misery.*
Take me
I'm alive
never was a girl with a wicked mind
but everything looks better
when the sun goes down
I had everything
opportunities for eternity
and I could belong to the night
your eyes, your eyes
I can see in your eyes, your eyes
you make me wanna die
I'll never be good enough
you make me wanna die
and everything you love
will burn up in the light
and every time
I look inside your eyes
you make me wanna die
taste me, drink my soul
show me all the things
that I shouldn't know
and there's a blue moon on the rise
I had everything
opportunities for eternity
and I could belong to the night
your eyes, your eyes
I can see in your eyes, your eyes
everything in your eyes, your eyes
you make me wanna die
I'll never be good enough
you make me wanna die
and everything you love
will burn up in the light
and every time
I look inside your eyes
(burning in the light)
make me wanna die.
The sad and caustic truth is
no one else will ever know
what it's been like
being you:
thirty-six years old
been working more than thirty
broken by all those close to me
hated by my own body
weighed twenty pounds at age two-and-a-half.
molested, maligned
got the shit kicked out of me
so many times
I can still see myself
in the darkness
piss in my pants
ketchup on my shirt
riding in a stranger's car
only worried about my mother
I've run so many races
fucked up so many
puked my guts out at the end
(or somewhere along the way)
no one could dissuade me from trying
(not even you, Mick Patch)
and no one steered me away
(of course)
from failing
I wanted something pure
something that didn't reek of my miserable failure
(cue the girl from Colorado)
dear faithful reader
I pity you
the backstory is there in bits and pieces
as much as I'm comfortable with
dear reader
I pity you
you are the innocent bystander
watching this broken, bleeding
hacking, wreck of a man
near the finish line in appropriate fashion:
stumbling and puking
and gasping for air.
