No resolution.
Rock back and forth.
Get some evolution.
Come back for more.
It's still fantastic.
Yes, this life is swell.
Don't be so drastic.
Only time will tell.
'Til then I'll wander.
And wonder, too.
Might even ponder.
Gonna shake the blues.
Echoes of Zappa.
Apostrophe.
Jiving and laughing.
Cosmic debris.
"This is a dog talking now."
"You can't say that."
And it did.
Yes, it did.
Oh, yes it did.
G.C.G./DCG
DC/GC/DC/GC/DCG
The loopy, the droopy, the sad, the mad.
The unfortunate brains, stained and in flames.
With no hope, just mope, no laugh at a good joke.
Signs and rhymes, and vandal crimes.
Put 'em in the cuckoo's nest.
Hey! Send 'em my best.
Sleep it off, get some rest.
'Til you leave the cuckoo's nest.
Take a key, or a knee, fuck up a Model 3.
Chant 'oligarch' in the dark, 'kill the rich', crazy bitch.
Old slurs, irrelevant birds, financed by a bag of dirt.
It's a mirage, this fake mob, from the king of the island massage.
EmAmDAm
Em
AmEm
Left in a puddle of petty vandalism and high pitched insults of the last century kind. These are desperate people. Desperate for protest, desperate for rage, desperate for meaning, any meaning. The signs arrive on time, the chants are sad. Old pale people are everywhere, the Boomers are so predictable, mentally abused for decades, reliabley outraged upon command.
Nothing about them matters, bitterness will kill the bitter quick. Cheer up, I say. This ending of waste, war, and wackos is a positive development. The benefits are beyond the most optimistic assessment. Way less fools.
Avoidance seems the best approach, let's see if the vandals stick with it. The video evidence is amassing, the Ai is crunching, cross-referencing, and identifying at record pace. Chuck 'em in jail, chuck the key, they can pick up our highway trash for the next 20 years. Their anarchy has no place.
They do not matter to society.
The end is always shocking, whether they saw it coming or not. There's is no compassion in cutting costs. Start with the unneeded, the liaisons, the relationship officers, the assistants to the assistants, and most of the assistants. Anything like that must go. Tears are tears, tissues are tissues, you're not needed or wanted anymore.
The gig's up, as American as it gets. Irresponsibility gets you nowhere in business, take it to the bones and muscles, lean and clean and full of steam. Happens all the time, usually the 2nd year when the loan runs dry. But, sometimes there is magic. The market takes over, and the wise and lucky win.
Delayed gratification is a doomed idea. There's only time, and time does not delay. Every day is meant for joy. Timelines are absurd, as if tomorrow will occur. As if we decide.
(Chorus)
I'm a popcorn warrior,
holding my phone.
While people in Ukraine,
getting killed by drones.
Look at the bright side,
not losing our boots.
And our bomb factories,
making lots of loot.
Me, I remember,
I remember the "Wolverines!"
Red Dawn and Rocky 4,
Drago killed Apollo Creed.
Chorus
Peace is for the suckers,
can't let the Russians win.
What's a million more dead,
Get on board, my friend.
Got my T-shirt ready,
Avatars all looking fly.
Microwave set to popcorn,
Gonna watch some war tonight.
Chorus
CG
DCG
The day was so very bright.
The day we stopped the weary fight.
When the war just made no sense.
When the war became past tense.
Don't be afraid of peace.
Feel it's peaceful calm.
We got lives to live, honey.
Ain't got no time for bombs.
Put your mind on your music.
Get to where you bout to loose it.
Write it down if you need to.
It's all about your attitude.
The hate must be channeled, it's the best way to move it out. Like a river to the sea, like smoke to the atmosphere, like migrating birds, in a way. Go south, go north, down the topography, through the geography, 'til it stops. Anger is an awful state, it should be simmered down, covered, and cooled. To be disrespected like that is rough.
Lied to, made a fool, duped, dinked, and dumped. Their heroes skipped out, lawyered up, and got shut down. The meat chopping is going well. Saw it to the bone, like draining the lakes for a clean up operation. Drudging, I think it's called.
Never dug something so much, the squeaks of the robbers, the squeals of the lulled, the drones of the superiors. The positions they take are farces, rooted in shame or envy, or both. The whole city is a failure, of course. To let this happen. To let this occur.
Guess I'm just irrelevant.
Used to be consequential.
Now I'm nothing really special.
Working on my fundamentals.
Listen up, what I'm really saying.
Interested in rock formations.
Still dig human relations.
Kinda bored with legislations.
Don't go to demonstrations.
Ready for tire deflations.
Miles with some jazz creations.
Another jigsaw sensation.
Give me something biological.
Hit me with some diabolical.
Try to make it hysterical.
Do your best to make it lyrical.
Ooooo, ooooo, say, ooooo, yeah.
Ooooo, ooooo, say, ooooo, ahhh.
Ooooo, ooooo, say, ooooo, yeah.
Ooooo, ooooo, say, ooooo, ahhh.
EA7
Stole our moments.
Stole our memories.
Stole our future.
Coulda had more rings.
Now you're trashing.
Our dude under your bus.
What you say when he's flashing.
His smile for Mrs. Buss.
Stick it up your casino.
Put your money in your slots.
Rather watch the Pony Express.
Than give you another shot.
Stole our moments.
Stole our memories.
Stole our future.
Coulda had more rings.
(Spoken)
I don't care about the NBA.
Care more about my new vinyl.
Now that Luka's in Ho77ywood.
Maybe I'll watch the Finals.
EmAmx3
DAmEmx2
A bag of mayonnaise.
Put me in a haze.
Stole my home base.
Took it all away.
"I grew up on a mayonnaise farm. One day, my face caught on fire. My dad put it out with a rake. That's why my face looks this way."
A bag of mayonnaise.
Put me in a daze.
Stole my home base.
Took it all away.
GC
GD
CG
*Randy Quaid and Jerry Clower co-write credit.
How bout the Ace.
Such a pretty face.
Then the King.
The joy he brings.
I love the Queen.
She makes me sing.
But that dang ole Jack.
Think he tripped out the back.
Don't get in a rush.
Wait for the flush.
Don't take the bait.
Tough to get a straight.
Then the sublime.
Sweet four of a kind.
Gotta pay your dues.
With the Full House Blues.
Time to double down.
Make up some ground.
Put on your shades.
Don't give it away.
Take it to the end, friend.
The dealer's gonna win.
Don't you know,
The dealer's gonna win.
EAEx3
DAE
I ain't got no boots,
Ain't got no boots.
Going to Ft. Worth in my shoes.
Ye Old Bull And Bush,
Ye Old Bull And Bush.
Gonna bring my own food.
Then it's Billy Strings,
Then it's Billy Strings.
Gonna knock off the arena roof.
We'll get in the groove.
He'll take us through our moods.
We might get high.
We might get high.
I ain't got no boots,
Ain't got no boots.
Going to Ft. Worth in my shoes.
D
D7
CD
CG
CG
AmCx2
The passport line is jammed packed. Same as the drivers licence office, same as the registration office, same as all the other offices. Fees and taxes and stickers and take a number, the waiting room awaits. The chairs are hard and dirty, but the offices don't care. Lots of cranky people looking to bolt the country, evidently.
For reasons of disgust or fear, or both. Maybe it's the jolt they needed, the liberty roar of the rational people. We've been around. The death of hair metal, the rise of the walkman, the smartphone takeover, glowing social scenes. Lenny Kravitz.
It ain't over til it's over. Robots building robots, loaded with all of human knowledge. Softwired to learn. Fearless for space, brave and new. Looking up and staying busy, seeking technical improvements.
The flag has its proper place. Behind God, and family, and health, and good times, and sleep, and dreams. Behind friends, and food, and a good movie, too. Or a good book, nothing's better than a good book. Maybe a Grand Slam 5-setter is better than a good book, if Nadal and Novak are involved.
Looking for the perfect sentence. No way I could write it, but I'll read it somewhere, someday. It will come from a young person, the old are too worn. It will be spontaneous and true and short. It will stop any reader.
T-shirts will be made. Hats and koozies. This perfect sentence will change the world one letter at a time. All the flags of the world will hang like sad rags. The air will be still.
Like a surgery, there's no need to watch. The staff'll brief you in the waiting room when it's over, the victims can take visitors when the anesthesia wears off. One at a time, please. They'll be confused, ornery, and mean. Have patience with the patients.
None of it flys in the modern world, the ridiculousness, the mental excuses, the Poor-Ole-Me crowd, the justifications of deceptions. We hit the low already, around the time our intelligence was insulted by the intelligence communities. Only federal spooks crawl out a moving truck and march down the street like masked lunatics waving obnoxious flags around. Stir it up for the cameras, make a show. Lots of fine people injected with bleach having a bloodbath while insulting soldiers.
We're sitting in the waiting room, trying not to make eye contact. All the magazines are old and dirty, the time clicks away. The doctors are doing their thing. This is our own island, it's just us. Anything is possible now.
So touchy Old America was, lots of off limits words, lots of off limits humor. Feelings were being hurt at a record pace, a flood of tears, always tears. Anger, sadness, guilt, everything was tears. Except laughter, only snide jeers were allowed. Profiling lost its edge, the kind everyone knows is hilariously true, silently acknowledged by most.
Most know where to get good donuts, for example. Most are leery of a certain demographic of driver. Most aren't afraid to talk to Russians. Most aren't huffing the gas anymore. Let's bag on each other, but keep it funny.
The self-righteous wail either way, easily offended and quick to offend. Irony undetected, hypocrisy lost. Covered in shame, without pride. Loony, in a way, good for a chuckle. A sad chuckle.
Outsiders are in, insiders are out. Populism goes the people. Keep your bottle of red, keep your bottle of blue, we're going with the clear liquid this time. We want to see through it. No more roofies from the employees.
The lake must be dried, the bottom must be examined, the stumps must be cleared, the beaches must be combed. Get a rocket eye view, down with the tyrants. They'll go kicking, screaming, and changing the subject. Back to skin tint, ignoring skin thickness once again. Mock them relentlessly, bleed their sour cancer.
For laughs, of course, but also to save them. Their brains are confused and frightened. It's fight or flight or shave your head and join the Dry War. Their choices are dwindling. Hang in there, maybe they can get to Mars one day.
Of course, America was never gone for good. It was a temporary gut check, a look in the mirror, a decision. The slime still oozes, but not as much. The gas it still lit, but it's dimmer, it's flickering out. Sanity and it's clarity, rationality and it's reality.
Hilarious is what's left, wrecked minds of woe and depression. Go with acceptance, anger has no future, the shock was enough. Get back to whining and moaning, it suits the mushed brains better. The artists are triggered, finally we'll get some good music. More stick-it-to-the-man, less endorsements.
Change all the rules, talk to only a few folks, get it done. Debate nobody, the debate is over. Clear out old-timers, scram you greasers, so long bribers and blackmailers. The Light Lobby has arrived, the Sledgehammer Lobby is being formed. Demolition of the American kind.
Plasmoids.
Implosion versus explosion.
Supression of the models.
Open sourced.
The Maldives Lab.
Geometry was the key all along.
Frequencies of the elements.
Sacred geometry.
Donut shaped clusters.
Enormous amounts of energy.
Turoidal orbit.
Self-charging atomic batteries.
Mr. Bluecheck 79er,
Meet you at the diner.
We'll both go out and find her.
Before this night is through.
She said she was a lady,
Before she was my baby.
She said I made her crazy,
Swore I made her blue.
All night I've been glowing,
My eyes, they've been stolen.
You know what I'm knowing,
You know what I knew.
Now we got each other,
Two reluctant brothers.
Searching for my lover,
Disappeared, what can I do?