|
|
1991 |
1. | |
2. | |
3. | |
4. | |
5. | |
6. | Steady Diet |
7. | |
8. | |
9. | |
10. | |
11. | |
|
. . .
|
|
Exuent.
This is three minute axcess,
So pop the question.
Will we leave the last place burning?
Or do we just get leaving?
Red-light, red-light my mind moves to refuse that filter,
Are you still surprised?
Keep my back above the tire tracks.
Sympatric.
I'll meet you,
I will meet you,
I'll meet you at the exit.
. . .
|
|
These are our demands:
We want control of our bodies.
Decisions will now be ours.
You can carry out your noble actions,
We will carry our noble scars.
Reclamation.
No one here is asking,
No one here is asking,
But there is a question of trust.
You will do what looks good to you on paper,
We will do what we must.
Return, return, return.
Carry my body.
. . .
|
|
You like the cut,
You like the fit,
Wide in the shoulders,
Trim at the hips.
In your nice new outfit,
All straight clean lines.
There's blood in your mouth,
But not in mine.
You think that I'm a sucker for it,
That we're all fodder for this.
Quick purchase once brought to market,
Dress it up and it's sold.
The place I'm offered is a bedsitter's tour,
A worthless sightsee of your adventure.
In your nice new outfit,
All straight clean lines.
There's blood in your mouth,
Dressed to the nines.
You think that I'm a sucker for it,
That we're all fodder for this.
Quick purchase once brought to market,
Dress it up and it's sold.
You're number one with a bullet,
That's money well spent,
Your mouth plastered like poster,
Address yourself success.
You can pinpoint your chimney
And drop one down its length.
In your nice new outfit,
Sorry about the mess.
In your nice new outfit,
Sorry about the mess.
. . .
|
|
This time is real
I feel it passing through the telephone
No one is home now
No one is home
These stacks
They keep me down
So I build some more
America is just a word but I use it
Language keeps me locked and repeating
This time is real
I see it passing by the avenue
Nothing to do now
There's nothing to do
I see them spinning on
So I spin out
America is just a word but I use it
Language keeps me locked and repeating
. . .
|
|
Lying on our backs,
This is your parents' bed,
A good place to be laid
'Cos it's so neatly made.
Staring at the ceiling,
Vein to vein the lines look the same
As the ones that you're seeing,
And then you start speaking:
Tracing your father's footsteps
In your mother's shoes,
Going up and over
And across your latin roots.
Point points back to its origin,
Across the world cogs are clogged with the sand,
Here the air breathes freely
And our tongues work loosely,
Border approaches border,
You're using your hands and smearing your r's.
I'm looking over my shoulder,
Strained resistance to scour the door for
Your father's footsteps or your mother's shoes,
Coming up and over,
Cut across your latin roots.
It's time to meet you makers
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
|
It's a long time coming,
It's a long way down,
It's long division,
Cracked and divide.
This is a parting,
Some separation,
We lay in pieces,
Cracked to survive.
I'm not your villain,
Not your adversary,
I'm not your reason
To crack and divide.
It's long division,
Crack and divide.
. . .
|
|
Out of the ashtray, into the ashtray.
Out of the ashtray.
There's nothing living,
There's nothing given,
Weekender's vision turns to working shoes.
There's nothing living, there's nothing given,
Weekender gives in, puts on his working suit.
There's nothing waiting, there's nothing imminent,
Nothing forgiven for the young idea.
There's nothing waiting, there's nothing imminent,
And nobody seems surprised,
The runaway returns.
Welcome home son,
Guess what we we're doing while you were gone?
Cocktail party's in gear and we were so glad that you're here,
Why don't you sit down?
Out of the ashtray, into the ashtray,
Out of the ashtray, into the family car,
Out of the ashtray, into the ashtray,
Out of the ashtray, into the family's arms.
There's nothing waiting, there's nothing imminent,
Nothing forgiven for the young idea.
There's nothing waiting, there's nothing imminent,
And nobody seems surprised,
The runaway returns.
Welcome back.
. . .
|
|
Got with the program,
Swallowed it whole,
Sugar made it easy,
Ice made it cold.
Reached out and touched them
On a tv screen,
Broke out the polish,
Scrubbed it clean,
That dirty machine.
This is your portion,
Please don't share,
The only answer,
Your only prayer,
Your reflection,
Please don't stare,
Nothing is going on in...
There is your manner,
What you wear,
Your diseases and your repairs,
All your belongings,
Please don't share,
Nothing is going on in there.
Update the cleanser,
Never mind the stain,
We'll take the package,
Let the contents remain,
Contents remain as yet unnamed.
This is your portion,
Please don't share,
The only answer,
Your only prayer,
Your reflection,
Please don't stare,
Nothing is going on in...
There is your manner,
What you wear,
Your diseases and your repairs,
All your belongings,
Please don't share,
Nothing is going on in there.
Came home flat busted
Only to be saved;
Everything comes down to you
In a world concave, world concave,
So well behaved,
We still turn on,
Thirty minutes long,
We still turn on
. . .
|
|
Justice brennan,
Take out some insurance on me, baby baby.
It's just the I'm busted and dripping,
My sorry lungs are all leaking,
It's all over, it's all over i said,
The last fair deal going down.
You let your gown to the ground,
But I'm not waiting around until the kiss-off.
Wasn't it you who said yeah you can shoot me lightly,
But ask me to be excused, I won't go die politely
Anytime that you want you can shoot me lightly,
But ask me to be excused, I won't go die politely.
Justice brennan, I know it's not your fault,
no baby no baby.
It's just that you're busted and dripping,
Your sorry lungs are all leaking,
It's not over, it's not over, I said.
Here comes the kiss-off.
. . .
|
|
The troops are quiet tonight,
But it's not alright, because we know they're planning something.
Don't you know things have settled down, down, down
But silence is a dangerous sound,
We must, we must, we must keep our eyes open,
See what we see, what once was promised now will be.
Still uncertain?
Get off that hang, don't wait for that bang.
The tools, they will be swinging.
The fools, they will be screaming.
We will not be beaten down.
. . .
|
|