FAPT - Rewrite w/ Samus

Well I'm the selfish animal
Diseased, the fever, got it all
Undressed, my willful, seething skin crawls

My lungs are blacker than my soul
Don't ask me why, 'cause I don't know
Just hope I die before I'm old, YEAAAAAAH

Well I'm unclean, a libertine
At least I'm more than a machine
Cruisin' in my lust patrol
Got my gun, I've lost control

So no one knows you like I do
Tragic tongues and words all true
Guess we didn't think this through too well

Got some pills, I'm on the run
Three shades of plastic, had my fun
My shock machine is set to stun again

Well I'm unclean, a libertine
At least I'm more than a machine
Cruisin' in my lust patrol
Got my gun, I've lost control

Yea, I'm unclean, a libertine
At least I'm more than a machine
Cruisin' in my lust patrol
Got my gun, I've lost control

So fuck you mom and fuck you dad
No wedding bells to make you glad
And bigotry don't make you mad no more

And this is for all poison tongues
And all your drowned and broken lungs
And all the songs we've never sung again

Well I'm unclean, a libertine
At least I'm more than a machine
Cruisin' in my lust patrol
Got my gun, I've lost control

Yea, I'm unclean, a libertine
At least I'm more than a machine
Cruisin' in my lust patrol
Got my gun, I've lost control

- - - - - - - - -

Apparently we're too old to sing /completely/ vulgar and immature punk rock songs now. I don't know when this happened. I'm not sure how I feel about it.

F.A.P.T.

Well I'm the selfish little whore
Who keeps you screaming back for more
Wake up naked on the floor, yeah

I know I'm not the perfect son
But we fucked this up from number one
Hey, at least I've had my fun, yeah

Fucking for virginity
Abstaining for sodomy
Praying for damnation
And thinking for lobotomy

Well know one knows you like I do
And son of a bitch, every word is true
Guess we didn't think this through too well

But I got some pills, I got a gun
Three shades of plastic, on the run
My shock machine is set to stun again

Fucking for virginity
Abstaining for sodomy
Praying for damnation
And thinking for lobotomy

Fucking for virginity
Abstaining for sodomy
Praying for damnation
And thinking for lobotomy

Well fuck you mom and fuck you dad
'Cause it sure gets me pretty sad
That bigotry don't make you mad no more

And this is for all poison tongues
And all your drowned and broken lungs
And all the songs we've never sung again

Fucking for virginity
Abstaining for sodomy
Praying for damnation
And thinking for lobotomy

Fucking for virginity
Abstaining for sodomy
Praying for damnation
And thinking for lobotomy

- - - - - - - - - - -
These lyrics are old as dirt, but they still mean something very important though completely different than when I wrote them. I'm rather proud of them in a way.

A Year Underwater

One hundred days now long undone
Eyes long cold, warmed by the sun
Through mist and shadow, cloud and shade
Stumble forth to the ends we've made

My jar of karma
Gathers dust on the sill
Contents ripened in the sun

A year underwater
Has not drowned my will
Yet I'm built and destroyed at a touch

And this place has never been home
Here my balance is fragile
Sometimes we believe we're alone
And forget we're entangled

When will we be here again
At this crossroads of summer tides
Oh, please don't pretend
That you don't feel this alive

And she's not afraid of me
Though I could consume her so quickly
And I'm not afraid of her
Though she could break me with a thought

Through whispers of storms by streetlights and bonfires
I've held her up
As a rock, a pedestal, a pillar of salt
I've derived a bare sustenance
From the scraps of glory fallen to earth

But when we will meet here again
At this crossroads of summer tides
I'm begging you, please don't pretend
You don't feel this alive
When will we be here again
At this crossroads of summer tides
Oh, please don't pretend
That you don't feel this alive

The last time
That our planets eclipsed
We were consumed by darkness;
we consumed the darkness
We woke up shattered
Through these years
I have gathered the pieces
Done this penance
Sought this redemption

Fall into place
Close your eyes,
Cross my fingers

Shed this disgrace
Place your hand on my heart

Run through these veins
With this page
As my witness

Feel this embrace
You are mine
Vict'ry is ours

But when we will meet here again
At this crossroads of summer tides
I'm begging you, please don't pretend
You don't feel this alive
When will we be here again
At this crossroads of summer tides
Oh, please don't pretend
That you don't feel this alive

inside-out and underground

through outer lines he crawls
it crawls within my mind
-dissociate, evade evicting walls-
for the mind reels; passion in foreign facility
haunting hindrance
here prevails, yet
no further can we go
building silent pressures
perpendicular to the "real"
the ring in reverse;
the acrid, furious buzz
turned inward, now a calming drone
bring the pieces back together
turn around and rediscover...

to be unmade
to dream, or be a dream
is it not the same to be outside yourself
as without yourself?

"I and I" (a poem and a half)

multifoliate gods reflected

coexistant within

shrouded even from our own eyes

outside ourselves

without ourselves

within and passing through you lying there

so scared

wondering whether something's been going wrong

for so long

we've been sleeping every second

we've been stealing every second

ray of sunshine off of

someone out of love

we've been stealing ever second

we've been sleeping every second

bloody sunday

in the rain

but my tattered old umbrella

is no match for the torrential dance

of silver thoughts and memories

raining like stones

and reigning in stone

cold eyes set in hard faces

at once victims and victors

through constant metamorphoses

the human syndrome

a symptom of life

a sign of the times

blessed are we to live in these days

where all things intermingle

arbitrary lines drawn by weak minds

have been but shackles on our wrists and veils upon our eyes

and now they are broken and cast them down

we stand up straight amid this maelstorm of the mundane

we are not bound, nor do we bind

and in this acceptance, this knowledge

liberation from acceptance and knowledge

from false dilemmas and black and white

we rise

we are one and many

boundaries between man and man and woman and woman and god and planet

between mind and mind, body and body, soul and soul

between mind and body and soul

all these things are false

but we are true

feast

you cultivate me
harvest all my intuitions to blind disaster
i am the last of the great-great-great
the porcine shape in sterile suspension
cursed are these figs you bring to my lips
and the soft lies i tell myself

"this is all just a machine"
and i am a brass nightingale
a reminder yet to courtesans and cattle
that a line in the sand displaces a million grains

i am eating myself
encased in glass and rarer air
i preside as my organs are carved and allotted,
lifted steaming from silver platters to fine china
into the mouths of my esteemed guests
--the queen, the good doctor, and the elephant man.

Ah, the marvels of modern medicine!