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let's go hang out in a mall, or a morgue,
a smorgasbord
let's go hang out in a church
we'll go find lurch
then we'll haul ass down through the abbey
is it money, is it fame
what's in a name, shame?
is it money, is it fame
or were they always this lame?
it's a crazy, crazy mixed up town
but it's the rattlesnake I fear
in another place, in another time
I'd be drivin' trucks my dear
I'd be skinnin' hunted deer
deer
let's go hang out in a bar
it's not too far
we'll take my car
we'll lay flowers at the grave of jesco white
the sinner's saint
the rack is full and so are we
of laughing gas and ennui
. . .
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it was an evening I shared with the sun
to find out where we belong
from the earliest days
we were dancing in the shadows
more wine
cuz I got to have it
more skin
cuz I got to eat it
inside the outside
by the river
used to be so calm
used to be so sane
I rushed the lady's room
took the water from the toilet
washed her feet and blessed her name
more peace
is such a dirty habit
slow down, we're too afraid
let me ride
let me ride
burn my eyes
let me ride
. . .
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people should not be afraid
we came to the earth to graze
no shortcuts to the face, this means you
a child gives you his shoes
people should not be afraid
we came to the earth to graze
if it slithers into the haze
it can't be true
a child gives you his shoes
in the early morning, cut her down
the pill, she needs your love
forget your mother and your father
they aren't important son
we came to the earth to graze
everyone's diggin' in
now there's no time to live
live
people should not be afraid
the artist does figure eights
but will it stand the test of time
or will it rot
like the mission that tried too hard
in the early morning, cut her down
the pill, she needs your love
forget your mother and your father
you'll fall apart inside
. . .
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everybody's here
puke stinks like beer
this could be a city
this could be a graveyard
you stole my idea
you stole my idea
everybody's anxious
for the coming of the crisis
the collapse of the justice
i can smell your armpits
you stole my idea
you stole my idea
you stole my idea!
this puke stinks like beer and everybody's here
come on, come on, come on
let's lay waste to this century
come on, come on, come on
return to nothing, and help me
everybody's anxious
the crowd is all around us
the followers of Aldous
are spinning with their mescaline
a man behind the altar screams
you stole my idea
you stole my idea!
on the edge of a kiss, smack on the lips
dangled with tongue
on the edge of a peace that can't stand low
and won't stand tall
it's amazing what we can do with love
with some matches and gasoline, do with love!
it's amazing what we can do with love
. . .
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everybody has a ghost
everybody has a ghost who sings like you do
yours is not like mine
but it's alright, keep it up
boy loses rib in New Orleans
he can't help eyein' up the whores
under the bridge
boy loses rib and lets a hellified cry into the dark
where did I go wrong?
where did I go wrong?
I never needed this before
I need a woman to help me feel
everybody has the dream
everybody has the dream
like a world tattoo yours is not like mine, it's alright, keep it up
the scalped dives into the skin
good doctors never leave a scar
no proof again
I'll take the myth, you take the blood
it's all the same to the world dreamer
it's all the same in the end
boy loses rib in New Orleans
he trades some ether for a chance
under the bridge
boy loses rib as he's summoned to the mud
flat on his back
cryin' where did I go wrong?
. . .
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the baby's not screaming enough
the singer's not singing enough
ramana's not breathing, to us
behold the unsheathing, it's love
the blade is not ready to cut
it's dull from our thinking, it's rough
Free love is a world i can't linger too long in
"free love" was just another party
for the hippies to ruin
behold the unsheathing, it's love
behold the unsheathing, it's love
Free love is a knife through the jugular vein son
Free love, i can't afford to add up what you fuckers are made of
. . .
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Heard a lot of talk about the ocean
Heard a lot of talk about the sea
Heard a lot of talk about a lot of things
Never meant that much to me
Heard a lot of talk about my spirit
Heard a lot of talk about my soul
But I decided that anxiety and pain
Were better friends
So I let it go
Did you let it go?
Let's get it back
Let's get it back together
Heard a lot of talk about this Jesus
A man of love, and a man of strength
But what a man was two thousand years ago
means nothing at all to me today
He could have been telling me about my
higher self
But he only lives inside my prayer
So what he was may have been beautiful
But the pain is right now
And right here
Let it go!
Let it go!
Let it go, my friend
And let's get it back
Let's get it back together
. . .
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my brother kicked his feet to sleep
my brother kicked his feet to sleep
my brother kicked his feet to sleep
and I sang the dirge song
my brother never missed a beat
my brother kicked his feet to sleep, sweet feet
my brother kicked his feet to sleep
and I sang the dirge song
Angel, don't you have some bagels in my oven?
Lady, don't you know a man when you see one?
Crazy lady with the shiny shoes, where are you?
Kick you feet and calm the space that makes
you hollow
little swami's got his bowl to eat
little swami always walks his beat, sweet feet
little swami's got his bowl to eat
and I sing the dirge song
it's amazing how they come to see
the little swami with his bowl to eat, sweet feet
the little swami only wears a sheet
and won't sing the dirge song
anal, tight-assed soldier with that dogged heart
put down your gun
we are ready to explode, we gotta take it smart
and take it slow
. . .
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anyone, caught in you mystery
keep it angry
keep it whispy
I've fallen down
drunk on your juices
turn my head
turn my head
it's aimed at you
funky temple
your dress is torn to shreds
your eyes are crazy
I bowed to save my head and
I can't forget you
but I remember
turn my head
turn my head
it's aimed at you
oh no,
we came to love you all day
these bastards are leavin'
somebody's go to stay
whatever we called you
it's just a name
just a name
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I'll kill you in my dreams
I turn the other cheek during the day
I'll kill you all
the subculture of my dreams
is waiting for me to fall asleep
I know you're scared, you should be
k know you're scared
hero
dreamer
this attic of my mind
these feelings I can't hide
I can't share
I feel alone, ah yeah
the subconscious keeps me here
I fell in love with a balladeer
I saw your tongue, it licked my heart
they called you queer
hero
dreamer
hero
they called you queer
they called you queer
they called you queer
they called you queer
. . .
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if the mother goes to sleep with you
will you run and tell Geraldo
if the mother bears your children without tears
without the usual costs of labor
if the mother goes to bed with you
will you run and tell the neighbors
will you hide behind that get up that you wear
or will take the first ear that comes into contact with your blade
like peter did on the hill
will you call her a freak?
will you call them freaks?
if the mother goes to bed with you
will you run and tell the papers
how she picked you from a line up in downtown Philadelphia
with a cigarette hangin' out of your mouth and Henry Miller in your back pocket
you little fucker
if the mother goes to bed with you
in the bowels of the cathedral
will you render her asunder with what she really needs
or will you crash that beautiful silence with some talk about
finding yourself in your mother's arms
will you call her a freak
will you call them freaks
or will you call them gods
will you call them freaks
you know you sperm is weak
you never looked, so high
to ever find her so low
you did not have to go, that far
to show her you were holy
now you know they're gonna come for you
and drag your silly name into the mud
if the mother bears your children without tears
and without the usual costs of labor
. . .
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looks like America's dropped her load
she was ready to explode
I could not see her from up here
cuz she was lyin' in the road
my head's in the ground
I can't make a sound
my head's in the ground
looks like America's dropped her load
she tried to call me on the telephone
"everything is fine, now the baby's here!"
she'll have to handle this one on her own
my head's in the ground
I can't make a sound
the priests were all stoned
California was in my mind
and love was a game that we played
my head's in the ground
I can't make a sound
the priests were all stoned
the fact that you moaned
my head's in the ground (repeat)
. . .
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if i was half alive
then you were dead
subsistin' on that same old bread
it's the memory that hides
the whole wide world
it's the gas hed's love of america
it's the memory that hides
take your photographs back
for the love of all gods
our gas hed marches on
our gas hed marches on
he's a bonified man
a star amongst his clan
and the only one that let me ride
it's the memory that dies
our gas hed was right
when they lanced his skull
there was puss and light
it's the memory that dies
so take your photographs back
for the love of all gods
our gas hed marches on
our gas hed marches
it's the memory that dies
and make your photographs black
for the love of all gods
our gas hed marches on
our gas hed marches on
gas hed is on the radio, radio, radio
. . .
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