Morning caught me with the stun gun set on bedhead so my hair is on the run
have bedbrain to boot so i proceed to water my roots bringing trees down, examining stars from stable ground
when the pimples come home i apply the foundation
this is stressful, i swear (that's why i'm sleeping with women on the brain)
ask the mirror for advice and he replies,
"you're just the same...as you break into asylums they're letting everybody out. and just because you're loud doesn't mean you need therapy. you bought new keyboards instead of bedboards, that's why you sleep lightly---"
and shower quickly, else i wash away my thinks.
clearing out my temple when the mucus hits the sink forgetting what it was that took me 21 years and forty winks
walking to the park with mister lumas and a disc trying to integrate sport with a career of doing
this unknowingly putting myself at risk for being at rest and seeing the grand scheme
(i can never keep the game clean!)
seeing monsters as machines like watching the quest from end to beginning
wondering why i'm singing not screaming
morphing for the masses would get me out of this metaphoric state
seeing symbolism on my half empty plate
knowing my best thought is a crumbled up piece of paper in emerson's garbage can
and there are bands out there that reduce grüvis malt to a garage band
dazed by mortality, i must refrain from writing existential poetry
and give purpose to little me
throwing thought instead of frisbee
(it's all lima beans to me)
Mapping out new territories to get lost in
and lost in the map-making process
but i know it well
twelve steps to the gates of confusion
only attracted to those things that make me go ------
my theories get eclipsed by human nature slash condition slash comedy
i try to laugh to keep from throwing up
but i always nod my head politely
fighting the urge to understand anything that might be detrimental to my blissful ignorance
so i know everybody's shoe brand and nobody's name
color me confused and sign it "female"
the "bitter half" nation's got built-in nonsanity
with sex in their pockets, and spite up their sleeves
Like i would believe this to be depth in disguise
writing curly q letters with heart over the eyes (i's)
so i wave my white flag, sound-tracked by white noise
working out my theories to get eclipsed by the dark
somebody turn the light on i can't see through this mess
confusion sets
when logic shows its head it wears red letters on its breast
confusion sets
now i'm caught between emotional motion and physical stress
confusion sets
rising in the east, confusion sets in (the west)
confusion sets
Who are you? sent to divide it slides over the sink's inside
spilling over in time
who let you in? you're on fire
climbing up on the side that confusion's burning down
suspended by disbelief
how could you be alive?
climbing up on the side that confusion's burning down
breathe a sigh of relief
no more worries
fools we run out of time easily hypnotized
one eye on the present time one used to fantasize
We come so...difficult to decipher
that after translators and lyrical sheets explanation is in order
you can chase our tacky techniques over oceans of metaphor and still miss the boat---
i mean the point---
i mean both.
mais enonciation est' ennemi. si je voulais me te faire comprendre je te parlerais en ta langage.
if you don't get the message let your ears be massaged
and consider yourself successful 'cause all purpose has been dodged
was it good for you? lost inside yourself without a clue
you can't fathom the idea of something new (like bitches brew)
miles ahead in self-confidence and humor too
watch we pursue the future while you pursue the clever rues
remain confused
still muttering retorts days after they're due
somebody turn the lights on i can't see through this
mee eee esssss sssss sss