I wanna be rich,
And I want lotsa money,
I don't care about clever,
I don't care about funny,
I want lotsa clothes,
And I want lotsa diamonds,
I heard people die while they're trying to find one.
And I'll take my clothes off,
And it will be shameless,
Cause everyone knows,
That's how you get famous,
I look at the sun,
And I look in the mirror,
I'm on the right track,
And I'm on to a winner.
I don't know what's right,
And what's real, anymore,
And I don't know how I'm meant to feel,
Anymore,
When do you think it will all become clear,
Cause I'm being taken over by the fear.
Life's about filmstars,
And less about mothers,
It's all about fast cars,
And cussing each other,
But it doesn't matter,
Cause I'm packing plastic,
And that's what makes my life,
So fucking fantastic.
And I'm aware of massive consumption,
And it's not my fault,
It's how I'm programmed to function,
I look at the sun,
And I look in the mirror,
I'm on the right track,
Yeah we're on to a winner.
I don't know what's right,
And what's real,
Anymore,
I don't know how I'm meant to feel,
Anymore,
When do you think it will all become clear,
Cause I'm being taken over by the,
Fear.
Forget about guns,
Forget about ammunition,
Cause I'm killing them all,
On my own little mission,
But I'm not a saint,
I'm not a sinner,
But anything's cool,
As long as I'm getting thinner.
I don't know what's right,
And what's real,
Anymore,
I don't know how I'm meant to feel,
Anymore,
When do you think it will all become clear,
Cause I'm being taken over by the,
Fear.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Phosphorent Pubescent
I think I have this strange affinity of looking up.
Ceilings, skies, skirt(ings of overhead windows)
Occasionally, I also tend to look inside me.
I guess that answers my enigmatic dreams of dissecting rodents to Overture.
Basically, there was this old Baroque joke that Mozart played so passionately because he wanted to express the lack of any hair product that that could tame his scalp-located beard.
There is talent in scruffiness, and the entertainment industry has proven that time and time again.
Clouds are scruffy, and they're wonderful aren't they?
Fluffy is the better word, I guess. But so is white.
Well to continue on my pursue of scientific conundrums, chemically speaking, solids are very appealing.
I mean doesn't it fascinate you that somethings just can't go through walls?
I know it makes the Southern people happy.
Speaking about getting through walls, I have come up with this ingenious plan of a store that sells walls.
It saves space, it destroys all barriers, and you don't need to waste money on racks.
I mean I came up with a name already.
Wall R Us
Hilman would be proud.
I think I'd like to end this post on a high note.
F#
Ceilings, skies, skirt(ings of overhead windows)
Occasionally, I also tend to look inside me.
I guess that answers my enigmatic dreams of dissecting rodents to Overture.
Basically, there was this old Baroque joke that Mozart played so passionately because he wanted to express the lack of any hair product that that could tame his scalp-located beard.
There is talent in scruffiness, and the entertainment industry has proven that time and time again.
Clouds are scruffy, and they're wonderful aren't they?
Fluffy is the better word, I guess. But so is white.
Well to continue on my pursue of scientific conundrums, chemically speaking, solids are very appealing.
I mean doesn't it fascinate you that somethings just can't go through walls?
I know it makes the Southern people happy.
Speaking about getting through walls, I have come up with this ingenious plan of a store that sells walls.
It saves space, it destroys all barriers, and you don't need to waste money on racks.
I mean I came up with a name already.
Wall R Us
Hilman would be proud.
I think I'd like to end this post on a high note.
F#
Monday, January 19, 2009
Anti Ganda
Freedom,
Is a religion,
Can't see,
What's in your region,
Plates out,
Glass eating manger,
You fool,
And doubtful,
Priest.
Gods,
Fall through the ceiling,
Kids,
All too revealing,
Smile,
You leave,
This place for tonight,
And then you go to graze,
Oh such a lovely, modern phase.
Stars,
Why do you seek them,
Prey,
Why do you need them,
Bo Peep does,
What Bo Peep wantss,
But she never gets,
Her full-paid funds,
And everyone,
Stays up to have some fun.
Faith,
Is like decisions,
Faith,
Will be your leisure,
Don't,
Suffer a lesion,
Stop,
They're burning pigeons.
They don't have to burn the books,
They just have to tell you not to look,
Making rockets like a pyromaniac cook,
If they give you food,
You let them,
If they give you feud,
You beg them.
Nah,
Somebody's watching,
Eyes,
White metal shillings,
If they close them,
You'll just be like me,
And have no friends,
Love authority.
Maybe,
You wait,
Maybe there's a cage,
Freedom,
Is a bigger prison.
Take,
The only medicine,
Pills,
It's make-up season,
When it's fall,
And,
You just call in,
The thieves with their hearts on their sleeves.
Fair,
I'm just a seeker,
Fare,
Bus ticket's cheaper,
Cool,
Just like the icebergs,
Hot,
Don't sleep in the fire.
Because the sound of music is a lyre,
To the bullets of paychecks and wires.
For why do you see,
The pixels in seeds,
Hypnotize by numbers,
Forget what it means.
I can't confront you,
Because you're not here,
But if you were beside me,
I'd boycott you, my dear.
Sometimes it hurts,
That preachers don't work,
And teachers don't lurk,
Like policies in smirks.
Well I see the cancers in the eyes,
Of blindness under shirts,
And the Machiavellian lice,
Cause you just don't care,
How's your hair,
You just care,
That it's fair.
Oh, darkness is bare,
Yellowing scares,
And brown is everywhere.
Is a religion,
Can't see,
What's in your region,
Plates out,
Glass eating manger,
You fool,
And doubtful,
Priest.
Gods,
Fall through the ceiling,
Kids,
All too revealing,
Smile,
You leave,
This place for tonight,
And then you go to graze,
Oh such a lovely, modern phase.
Stars,
Why do you seek them,
Prey,
Why do you need them,
Bo Peep does,
What Bo Peep wantss,
But she never gets,
Her full-paid funds,
And everyone,
Stays up to have some fun.
Faith,
Is like decisions,
Faith,
Will be your leisure,
Don't,
Suffer a lesion,
Stop,
They're burning pigeons.
They don't have to burn the books,
They just have to tell you not to look,
Making rockets like a pyromaniac cook,
If they give you food,
You let them,
If they give you feud,
You beg them.
Nah,
Somebody's watching,
Eyes,
White metal shillings,
If they close them,
You'll just be like me,
And have no friends,
Love authority.
Maybe,
You wait,
Maybe there's a cage,
Freedom,
Is a bigger prison.
Take,
The only medicine,
Pills,
It's make-up season,
When it's fall,
And,
You just call in,
The thieves with their hearts on their sleeves.
Fair,
I'm just a seeker,
Fare,
Bus ticket's cheaper,
Cool,
Just like the icebergs,
Hot,
Don't sleep in the fire.
Because the sound of music is a lyre,
To the bullets of paychecks and wires.
For why do you see,
The pixels in seeds,
Hypnotize by numbers,
Forget what it means.
I can't confront you,
Because you're not here,
But if you were beside me,
I'd boycott you, my dear.
Sometimes it hurts,
That preachers don't work,
And teachers don't lurk,
Like policies in smirks.
Well I see the cancers in the eyes,
Of blindness under shirts,
And the Machiavellian lice,
Cause you just don't care,
How's your hair,
You just care,
That it's fair.
Oh, darkness is bare,
Yellowing scares,
And brown is everywhere.
Monday, January 12, 2009
When I Go
If we're both not married by 22,
Could I be so bold, and ask you,
If we're both not married by 23,
Will you, make my year,
And ask me.
If we're both not married by 24,
Will you pass me those kneepads,
And I'll get on the floor,
If we're both not married by 25,
I hope that the sound childish sparks,
Still alive.
Cause there are so many lessons,
That I just never get to learn,
And there are so many questions,
That still burns,
Like will you hold,
My hand
When I go.
If I get to 30,
And I don't have a wife,
I'll ask you nicely,
But I won't ask twice.
If I get to 40,
And I don't have a spouse,
I'll fashion you a letter,
And I'll send it to your house.
If I get to 60,
Will you slip away,
Into an armchair for
The rest of my days,
Cause you've got your family,
And I've got mine...
Willed love will be shared,
For another time.
Cause there are,
So many lessons,
That I never got to learn,
And there are so many questions,
That still burns.
Like will you hold,
My hand when I go?
Could I be so bold, and ask you,
If we're both not married by 23,
Will you, make my year,
And ask me.
If we're both not married by 24,
Will you pass me those kneepads,
And I'll get on the floor,
If we're both not married by 25,
I hope that the sound childish sparks,
Still alive.
Cause there are so many lessons,
That I just never get to learn,
And there are so many questions,
That still burns,
Like will you hold,
My hand
When I go.
If I get to 30,
And I don't have a wife,
I'll ask you nicely,
But I won't ask twice.
If I get to 40,
And I don't have a spouse,
I'll fashion you a letter,
And I'll send it to your house.
If I get to 60,
Will you slip away,
Into an armchair for
The rest of my days,
Cause you've got your family,
And I've got mine...
Willed love will be shared,
For another time.
Cause there are,
So many lessons,
That I never got to learn,
And there are so many questions,
That still burns.
Like will you hold,
My hand when I go?
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