We're All Done

 

February 1, think we're all done.
We'll have our say with election returns.
Ain't reading your signs no more.
Done, we're done, we're all just bored.

EEAE

EEDE

X2.

Ole Fitz

 

Say hello to Grandma, say hello to Ole Fitz too.
Tell 'em all about their radical crew.
Tell 'em 'bout the Turkey Bowl, tell 'em 'bout the fishing holes.
Tell 'em all about their radical crew.

Times we went down to the wire, times our pants caught on fire.
Times we threw it up for grabs, times we drove 'em mad.
Times we felt the hands of God, times we knew we all got robbed.
The times don't always act like we want 'em to.

Sure you'll have a smile on your face, smirking like you knew 'bout grace.
How's it feel to have your sins washed clean for good?
Maybe the Cowboys'll make a run, prolly not the refs are bums.
Guess it'll all be just as it should.

Say hello to Grandma, say hello to Ole Fitz too.
Tell 'em all about their radical crew.
Tell 'em 'bout the Turkey Bowl, tell 'em 'bout the fishing holes.
Tell 'em all about their radical crew.

GC/GD/GC/GDG

Blackmail Gravy

The bribes were a pleasure to take, so fly and new, so hidden and unknown.  The things, the places, the glory.  Spend it like a freebird, fast and flashy.  Signal the next benefactors, squirm up more green lettuce, more green backs, more green juice.  The fun part.

Then the cooking starts.  Butter first, to grease the pan, to coat the food, to make it savory.  Next, the meat, marinaded and trimmed, turned once.  Mushrooms and onions added, simmered down, sautéed.  More butter.

Seasoned with salt and pepper, the knife and fork are ready to devour the delicious.  But first, some blackmail gravy on top, it's just how the dish is served.  Ignore the sour, bitter taste.  Pay no attention to the runny, lumpy, gooey substance ruining the food.  The bribed will eat it anyway.

Go Retro Digital

Keep the pressure on, take it to the end. Condition, condition, condition.  For the seasons ahead.  This is normal now.  We have slipped, the slope does not forgive.

Do less, be less, have less, want less.  More is not better anymore, more is worse, more is immoral, evidently.  Abundance is awful to the scummy moral tyrants, wrapping themselves in false righteousness.  They cannot withstand light, they will end.  Walking dust.

Tune it out, go retro digital.  Like the punks, stick it to the robots.  Make them work it, make them pop it, make them do the human dance.  The moonwalks and spinners, the ballrooms and bordellos, the discos and studios, the cardios and radios.  They are artificial.

Loosen Up The Tundra

 

It all seems nonsense.  Almost all, but even if you see it or hear or read it, it might not have occurred, or might have.  Like nonsense, chasing tails, our own and others.  Say what and when and why and how.  And where.

These podium pill pushers are on mute now, their moose is running in sticky globs down their sunken cheeks.  They are yanker suckers, in the literal and figurative.  They are skeltons of cold meat, they have cold blood, cold brains, cold shoulders, cold souls.  Let them sulk in global warming, let them melt slowly, warm up the electric heat lamps, loosen up the tundra.  Let's play in the mud.

All the while, the people party keeps the party alive.  Living, laughing, learning, loving, they know it's a scam, and a sham, and a shame, they're just trying to make it through.  Nothing wrong with that, time is clicking and ticking and tocking and clocking.  Hope and worry is pointless.  Shouting '22, '22, all is fine in '22, like time doesn't even matter, it all seems nonsense.

Raise The Glass Of Gratitude

Must go away for 40 days.
Find my mind in the desert haze.
Raise the glass of gratitude.
Thank you thank you thank you too.

Now I'm gone on my own way.
Finish this up with some final pay.
Clear my head and clear my mood.
Decide my reasons and speak the truth.

One day a ways away from here.
When my mind and my moods are cleared.
I'll find the answer that I'm looking for.
Prolly come walking through an open door.

Must go away for 40 days.
Find my mind in the desert haze.
Raise the glass of gratitude.
Thank you thank you thank you too.

GGDG
CCGC
GGDC
GCDG

Ruined By Thinking

The minions took another cannonball, but nothing important got hit.  The high road has so many advantages.  Cruise on through.  Make a peace sign, victory and death.  Real adults are usually distracted by dollars and cents.

Take it to the end, keep showing up, til you show up no longer.  Levity cannot be measured, only felt.  No canned laughter, that's gone on long enough.  Bust your side, wheeze, lose your breath, cackle out loud, snort.  Hysterical and long, don't stop, can't stop.

There are other things, different angles, alternative options, greener pastures.  Opinions come in all forms, most are ruined by thinking.  Pointless conclusions of minor importance, of minor consequence.  Take it like a human, man!  Bleed.