Blue balls and a hangover

All the liquor in the world down my throat
Dried and parched
Can't sing a note
Waiting for my head to clear
Fighting the desire for another beer
Questions of what, where, why and who
Seem to drain all I thought I knew


All the ass in the world down my pants
Wanting I think to give romance
Not sure of my need
Reacting again to my greed
If I take      I need to give
If I give      I need to have
Perhaps the crystal cathedral
The prayers of old dead men
Placing uneven pressure upon my soul
Forgivness and understanding
Never the word no

what you doin tommorrow triple p?

don';t know
don't care
don't try
don't think
don't matter

149 149 149

149 149 149
These numbers are representative
oF THE DIVINE AND FINE
lISTEN TO 149
For clear direct mine
Repeat 149 149 149
LISTEN UP

The Pain of Memory

im in a digital land, i dont need a hand

i am a night hawk, watch me walk

i am a daytime owl not one to howl

Big Rock Candy Mountain Rainforest

Mountain tops and curly rocks and prostitutes for free
with Idiot pleasures there are no measures for he or she or thee
machine gun raffles and daisy rainbows together in harmony
ride the rails tell your tall tales and eat endangered species
ice cream bark and cinnamin larks and whisky farts all day day day day
for he or she or it or thee it is a place to be
electric totem poles and not a grumpy soul
the land of one forty nine comes free
come inside and do not hide for hell runs deathlessly

SNL 149



Aunt Gemima Stirs On

Aunt Gemima stirs on
Tesla's gamma ray envelopes the syrup
The burning smell of pancakes
the burnt smell of pancakes
why did you do it robert lee
LYNCHEM BURNEM FUCKEM
alabama moved on why dont you

THE JOURNEY BEGINS

THE JOURNEY BEGINS


Clyde was an interesting man who had spent most of his life consumed by the contents of liquor bottles.  Yet he was able to maintain, what appeared to most a somewhat strange but basically normal existence.  Locked deep within his gray matter were secrets that had been kept from the human race for eons.  Time travel had brought Clyde into his physical human form, unknown to himself till today, Sitting in his room pen in hand thoughts seem to call out to him from within the walls, there was a gargling sound commentating from the kitchen sink.


Held close to seemingly endless conclusions
                                  thoughts raced from his mind
the shunting of freight trains
                                 'the howling of the midnight whistle
the thoughts of his past family
                                  riped from sight by a cruel
ending of a rainy crash
No one left to love
no one left who cared for him

This is the story Clyde, his search, his music, his art, and his thoughts

Creation of Man