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New America '76: 2. Clear Liquid

  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.
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New America '76: 1. Temporary Gut Check

  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.

Paraphrasing Nikola

  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

  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?

Mr. Coffee

  What ever happened to Mr. Coffee, hope he's doing swell. Standing in line at the Starbucks station, think we're 'bout to bail. Do we really need these Macchiatos, first thing that we drink. Get a bucket of pure Columbian, Mr. Coffee's all we need. *A JingleHut creation .

Too Tolerant

Say what's that you say. Can't walk outside on this sunny day. Can't have a smoke in the sun rays. Can't throw the King any shade. Too tolerant. Of our parliament. Of our occupants. Those that represent. Say what's that you say. Can't walk outside on this sunny day. Can't have a smoke in the sun rays. Can't throw the King any shade. EA EDD7 EA D7AE AEx3 D7AE

Knock A 7

  At least I'll knock a 7 close. At least I'll hit one nice. Prolly smash a drive or two. Might cure my ancient slice. Big trees and bumble bees. Ivy that'll poison your skin. Creek cliffs and smoke sniffs. Smoothly hunting pins. Should I hit my seven. Should I hit my three. Think I'll lose my mind. If I hit that fucking tree. Focus on the mental game. Keep it all to myself. Listen to Uncle Tupelo. Music's good for my health. Keep it in the fairway, man. Best not rely on luck. Swear golf makes us swear. 'Damns' & 'Hells' & 'Fucks'. GC DCG CGx3 DCG