Sunday, September 7, 2003

I got the cannibal blues I ate my steak and chopped my noose. I got the baby blues I'm feelin crushed. My bones are achin like a crutch.

cannibal blues
cannibal blues
walk along walk along
the way you sing is coloringme with crayons
the green is like grass ihate watching itgrow it's so slow
wheres thesharpner yourcrayon is dull
the way you sing is coloringme with crayonsthat are unsharpened
give themsome glam colorthem with green grassandbrown sand
make themcrayola and instant likesulking hands

we usedto fly like peterpan
all the children flewwith us and came to never never land
where they nevergrew up and they never had problems
all they had werecoloring books and crayons
and with them they all made pictures of childhoods
they all lived like they should
all the children lived withus up in never never land

but what's this
what's this
we eat
babies
we eat
babies

we eat babies
we eat babies
we eat their crackled bones
we eat their petite cracker toes
we make them wear fancy clothes

we make them grow to grow
the crayons are thrown away in the garbagebasket bin
we make them eat their bones
we eat them and make them eat their own
cannibals thatused to color with crayons
used to make themcrayola and instant likesulking hands

but what's this
what's this
we eat
babies
we eat
babies

we eat babies
we eat babies
we eat their crackled bones
we eat their petite cracker toes
we pickle them in jars with dill and cloves
then we cocoon them in their heads
maggot their arms in seeds
let them fester until they bleed

all you can do you small baby is have the blues
all you can do you grown weed is have the blues
all you can do is walk along walk along
keep singing that song its coloringme with crayons
keep singing that song
and sulkwith me
grabbing my hand

we got the cannibal blues baby you and me
we got cannibal blues we sing for release
keep singing that song its coloring me with crayons
keep singing that song
and sulkwith me


baby bones
at church we worship our lord jesus on the cross
we cup our hands and eat his bread and wine
tasting the mechanics of divinity that is divine
then we all take our black goats and kiss them on the head
we eat the babies until they are dead

baptized little barbarian in his chains
came to the pool at the crucible of the church to pray
brought by mother and father today
brought to be accepted the tribal way
the chrism oil will cover you it is fragrant
you have just been born from your womb to stave
welcome baptized little barbarian in chains
at this church we worship our lord jesus on the cross
don't believe? just read the bible and its marching scribes
the marching of the pigs will eat you up in time

babies have wide eyes and know nothing
they cry at their mothers and fathers when they want
they are selfish and brats they deserve depravation and seclusion
tender hearts and brains are so easily allusioned
so easily pollutioned

we eat babies until they are dead
humping riding we give them life instead
the nature is our answer because lord jesus said
the nature is our answer because god gave us
and for him we bled

the marching of the pigs will eat you up in time
you sweet fragile meticulous chiseled swine
it is too bad that the jaws will hug you and gnaw you bones
too bad you will emerge engorged with fear and dread
they expect you to be dead

we eat babies until they are dead
humping riding we give them life instead
the single cells augmenting skeletal shred
when they grow too big to breathe young and small
we eat them and gnaw until they are dead

the new maggot that emerges has no wings
the new maggot that emerges has no skull
it is bare with its snout and tooth
it is bare with its empty head and alone

jesus will deliver you when you are grown
when you grey and rot to dilapidated drones
then the plastic earth will eat your bones
and through them the single cells
will augment a new skeletal shed
and through them
you will be dead

the marching of the pigs will eat you up in time
you will realize how meaningless it is to survive
and that the best thing there is to do as a human
is to stay alive

my baby bones are achin down the lines
my baby bones are achin all over my eyes
oh catch me from the storms
my baby bones are achin down the lines
my baby bones are achin all over my eyes

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Saturday, September 6, 2003

Fake

The green plastic watering can
For a fake chinese rubber plant
And fake plaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssssstic Earth

That she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber plans
To get riiiiiiiidd of..

It wears her out
It wears her out
It wears her out
It wears her out

She lives with a broken man
A crackpot of a styling man
Who just cruuuuuuuuuuumbles and burns
He used to do surgery
For girls in the eighties
But graaaaaaaaaaaaaaaavity alwaaaaaaaays wins

And it wears him out
It wears him out
It wears him out
It weaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrssssssssssssssssss

She looks like the real thing. She tastes like the real thing. My faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkkke plaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaastic looooooooooooove.

I can't help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If i just tuuuuuuuuuuuurn and run

And it wears me out
It wears me out
It wears me out
It wears me out

And if I could beeeeeee..
Who you wanted

If I could beeeeeeee...
Who you wanted
All the time
All the time


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Creep

You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world

I wish I was special
You're so fucking special
But I'm a creep
I'm a widow
What the hell am I doing here
I don't belong here
I don't give enough

I wanna have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice
When I'm not around

You're so fucking special
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep
I'm a widow
What the hell am I doing here
I don't belong here

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so fucking special..
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep
I'm a widow
What the hell am I doing here
I don't belong here

I don't belong here
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Bow down get on your knees worship the machine bleed the freak.

i got my head but my head is unraveling
can't keep control can't keep track of where it's traveling
i got my heart but my heart's no good
and you're the only one that's understood

i come along but i don't know where you're taking me
i shouldn't go but you're wrenching dragging shaking me
turn off the sun pull the stars from the sky
the more i give to you the more i die

and i want you
and i want you
and i want you
and i want you

you are the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug
you are the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug

you make me hard when i'm all soft inside
i see the truth when i'm all stupid-eyed
the arrow goes straight through my heart
without you everything just falls apart

my blood wants to say hello to you
my fears want to get inside of you
my soul is so afraid to realize
how very little good is left of me

and i want you
and i want you
and i want you
and i want you

you are the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug
you are the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug
you are the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug
you are the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug
you are the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug
you are the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug

you are the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug
you are the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug
you are the perfect drug
the drug
the perfect drug

(take me)
(with you)
(take me)
(with you)
(take me)
(with you)
(take me)
(with you)
without you (take me)
without you everything falls apart (with you)
without you (take me)
it's not as much fun to pick up the pieces (with you)
without you (take me)
without you everything falls apart (with you)
without you (take me)
it's not as much fun to pick up the pieces (with you)
(take me)
it's not as much fun to pick up the pieces (with you)
(take me)
it's not as much fun to pick up the pieces (with you)
without you
without you everything falls apart
without you
it's not as much fun to pick up the pieces
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Friday, September 5, 2003

The Return of the Screams.

Today as often as every other day I was sitting down minding my own business.

I was sitting down on my wooden log that somehow at my school passed as a "lunch chair," and upon this lunch chair was placed an even larger log for my "lunch table."

Perhaps it was that my school was tight on its budgets, who knows.

I stared absentmindedly around, thinking just that, as I sat on my log and it barked up my butt.

Taking the plastic (it was more like teflon) fork, and my plastic (also more like teflon) spoon, I began digging into my potatoes and mashing them in my mouth like they were made of diamonds.

In my mind I imagined a

Crunch CRUNCH CRUUUUUUUUUNCH

but there was only a small little noise, mostly me wrapping my tongue around each morsel and tasting it.

The potatoes also tasted like crap. It was like another bark shoveled into my butt and endlessly poking me as if I needed some Preperation H.

So I ate those potatoes, without gravy (the gravy tasted like baked paper. I hate it, so I never get it.)

As was usual, no one was sitting beside me in my little nook. Nobody but me.

As I finished my potatoes and finally opened my milk, I began to hear some one coming over.

I could hear their little footprints pat patting on the ground. I looked up and stared.

I was silent.

The came over and sat down right next to me. So close that I actually felt that for once tehre was some bark going up my butt and that the potatoes tasted like crap and that my plastic and spoon looked more like teflon. All I could think or see was them.

"Hello," the girl said to me. I looked over at her, just stared.

She had wings.

Not just regular wings, either. They were big and full and painted. They were white as paper.

I was almost speechless, but somehow I was able to remain cool. For some reason they were doing that to me.

"Hi," I said. I thought I sounded like a robot.

She looked at my now empty spot where my potatoes had been on my tray.

"Tasted like crap?"

I nodded. I began sipping my milk again, trying to act casual. Then I couldn't stop myself. I just had to ask. Had to.

"Uh, don't take this the wrong way, but why do you have wings?" I kind of just looked at her, somewhat stupidly. Somewhat like I wished I hadn't asked my question.

She looked at me like a perky cheerleader finally coming to the realization that she had just done some crazy flip and that she had just did something great. It was all ditzy.

"Why, uh, you see..." She stopped. I just continued to stare, continued to try and understand what in the hell was happening to my regular day of nothing going on.

"What?" I said, tried to beckon her on.

She looked at me closely, then rolled her eyes like I was such a dork. "Well, I'm uh...I uh am part of...don't you know?"

This was really strange. I looked at her like she was some crazy person, and then I looked at her wings and even thought she was more crazy.

"Don't I know what?"

But it was too late. She had disappeared into thin air. One moment she was there, and the next the seat was completely empty.

I stared around, I began to stand up. I looked around at everyone else. They looked like they hadn't seen a thing. Hadn't seen some crazy lady wearing wings like a wig.

Very confused, I walked over to some of my fellow classmates who I was familiar with.

"Hey, uh, hey Abe," I said. "Did you see anything weird?"

Abe looked at my through a cocked unibrow.

"Anything weird? What do you mean Alexander Bolltan Vanter? Anything weid...why, no."

I stared at him with an even more confused look. He had never ever known my entire name, he had also never even known my last name enough to even keep it in his short little memory which consisted of mainly pointless Star Wars information.

Beside him, Abe's friend Dane let out a funny little squiggle face.

It probably looked a lot like mine.

Extremely strange story which I am going to let stay where it is until my next post...
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Thursday, September 4, 2003

Deus Ex Machina

I have recently become the parallelistic follower of two cultists which I find to be the upmost of intelligencing and fluent perdition.

They are my new Gods. They stand before me as transitioned mortal beings that are just as me, bleed as me, and have an idealistic approach to the workings of the rules.

These Gods, of course, have founded their steep steps upon me in the only way that is best to let out opinionated drivel these days: music.

If it would not be for them and their music, then I would strive further for a true and almighty God. I would pray in recollection further for an endless answer to the spiraling mockingbirds that are labeled as divine, sly, and everlasting. I would still be searching for the truth that endlessly plagues us and endlessly grapples us in its unformless aberrations.

But I have found the abnormal terrestrial which is said to be sublime and to live about and above us upon his royal ethers. Who sits upon his royal throne conversing and drowning himself for us below.

I have found that through the ghostly bondage upon my arms and head and mind has been created two for me that appeals to my masses. I have found from within the pretty hate machine a hate pretty machine. A mechanism which throbs into my ears in bleeding elation about the things which encumber me down and convulse like a bleeding heart to me.

And that is what I am to be said to be. I am a bleeding heart.

I openly strive for something to fill my ceaseless bleeding. I try to well up the holes from which I bleed and cover them. I even try to eat my own dead tissues, and other's, to recycle it into a nexus of life. But still my heart is too convulsed and shaken. Still it tastes too much poison day by day.

Then there is a symbolic symbiosis which holds me head and fills its holes and holds my heart and fills its craters.

It is the artist.

The bleeding heart and the artist. They are one in the same exempting one important factor: one cannot beat without the other. Without the artist there is no bleeding heart, there is nothing upon which to base the drippings other than pure drivel and meaningless holes. Without the artist there is no bleeding heart which has its throbs inducted through the artist.

And I have become one such follower. I feel almost catatonic when my God's voices speak to me. It is like Devil Gods speaking to me about that which is right and that which is wrong. It is like a masochistic sex doll for me to continually lust on top of.

It is like being conceived over and over again, continually a small child in a small womb feeding its self and gorging upon the blood that pumps his veins to dilation and rage. It is quite eloquent, like looking at a setting sun as it drains away past the horizons.

I worship my Gods daily. I stand alone and as I listen to their written songs and their instrumental shakings. I sing along with them. I learn every crack of every corner in their words. I find my meanings through the meaningless.

As I close my eyes now in soft whispers and recollect their faces and their bibles I see a bigger picture. I see a picture that has no meaning, that is painted with maggots that traverse across muddy pools of dried tar and eat that which has already died so that they one day can die too.

I see them. Right now. I even hear them. I can hear them wailing this nearly same message in the driveling beauty in which they do it.

Thom Yorke I am sure knows that he needs to give me nothing for my constant worship and prayer to him. I'm sure he's just as oblivious to the amazing intricacies which happen between the bleeding hearts and the artists. But I'm sure that he smiles in some numbing way that is too vague in his mind to really mean how profound it is.

And Trent Reznor I'm sure is smiling too. Because he knows as well as Thom how great the bleeding hearts and the artists are. Yet too it is in a blurred sensation that is too small in his mind to really mean how profound it is.

All they can do is hold their crosses of their sufferings and instead of rotting and dying from it like Christ let it rot and decay on a piece of blank paper and on their voices.

That is what will make it all worthwhile.
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Staring at the laws/ Looking at the cross/ Nuthin but a hole/ To live without a soul.

You got a head like a hole
I shot it full of fire and hell
And now we eat our bones

The pretty hates in our machines
Make me want to slice the cross you bleed
The pretty hate machine that is all over us
Makes me want to die a death that crushes my ribs

And I still look at all the people
going insane
I can show you why it's going to never change
But I can't tell you why I am slaved

Happiness in slavery bring the whip to my name
Make the pretty hate machine a pony that is tame
Happiness in slavery bring the whip to my name
Make the pretty hate machine
A wound that is skeletal like steel chains

You got a head like a hole
Like a bullet died alone and hit you
And your halo is gold
So tell me why are you so alone
Why do you pray and believe you are lost
Tell me why you bleed for this cross

I can't tell you
why people are insane
I can't show you
how you can do the same
I can't tell you a thing
I am chained

My ribs are cracked
my hair is all over me down to my knees
The brutish ways breathe into me
I breathe them in my lungs and choke

My head is like a hole
Just like you it's so empty and alone
And I can't tell you why
the people are so insane
I can't tell you to do the same
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...Just.

Eh. Yeah.

I am sort of beginning to think that no one really takes the time to read much that I post lol.

Do I come off as too smart, or what? Or is it just over your head?

Bleh.

If it's any of those, it shouldn't be like that. I'd like to hear what people think of the stuff I post in here. Well, mainly the writing stuff...but yeah. My writing has to stir something in you, or make you feel some opinion...doesn't it?

So post! Post you currs! You harlots! You...you HEAVENS CLOUDS.

Heh. I really have considered taking him up on making this thing about him lol/
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Wednesday, September 3, 2003

The Way We Walk When We Are Dead

The way we walk when we are dead
is as the world spins on our heads

and we as chesire cats dream
as the wooded within us scream

"Watch as I take off my head,"
and so the chesire cat takes off his neck
and there he walks when he is dead

when is the place where you were conceived
is it within you to forget to breathe
when is the place where you were achieved
is it within you to forget that you bleed


and there in the open fields
we as chesire cats dream
as the wooded within us scream
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Interpol

This album is pretty damn amazing. Perhaps I'll have to do an in-depth review of it...for now, you have this.

I highly recommened it, though. Definitely worth hearing. Very much so.

Untitled

Surprise, sometimes, will come around
Surprise, sometimes, will come around
I will surprise you sometime. I'll come around
Oh, I will surprise you sometime. I'll come around when you're down...


Obstacle 1

We can cap the old times make playing only logical harm
We can top the old lines clay-making that nothing else will change.
But she can read, she can read, she can read, she can read, she's bad
Oh, she's bad

It's different now that I'm poor and aging, I'll never see this face again
You go stabbing yourself in the neck
It's different now that I'm poor and aging, and I'll never see this place again
And you go stabbing yourself in the neck

We can find new ways of living make playing only logical harm
And we can top the old times, clay-making that nothing else will change.
But she can read, she can read, she can read, she can read, she's bad
Oh, she's bad

Chorus

It's in the way that she posed.
It's in the things that she puts in my hair.
Her stories are boring and stuff.
She's always calling my bluff.
She puts the weights into my little heart,
And she gets in my room and she takes it apart.
She puts the weights into my little heart,
I said she puts the weights into my little heart.

She packs it away

It's in the way that she walks
Her heaven is never enough
She puts the weights in my heart
She puts, oh she puts the weights into my little heart.


NYC

I had seven faces
Thought I new which one to wear
But I'm sick of spending these lonely nights
Training myself not to care
The subway is a porno
The pavements they are a mess
I know you've supported me for a long time
Somehow I'm not impressed
But

Chorus

New York cares
(Got to be some more change in my life)

The subway she is a porno
The pavements they are a mess
I know you've supported me for a long time
Somehow I'm not impressed

It is up to me now, turn on the bright lights


PDA

Yours is the only version of my desertion that I could ever subscribe to
That is all that I can do
You are a past dinner, the last winner, I'm raping all around me
Until the last drop is behind you
But you're so cute when you're frustrated, dear
Yeah, you're so cute when you're sedated, oh dear

Sleep tight, grim rite, we have two hundred couches where you can...
Sleep tight, grim rite, we have two hundred couches where you can
Sleep tonight,
Sleep tonight,
Sleep tonight,
Sleep tonight.

You are the only person who's completely certain there's nothing here to be into
That is all that you can do
You are a past sinner, the last winner, and everything we've come to makes you you

But you cannot safely say that while I will be away, you will not consider sadly
How you helped me to stray
And you will not reach me I am resenting a position that's past resentment and now
I can't consider, and now there is this distance, so...

Chorus


Say Hello to the Angels

I want your silent parts
The parts the birds love
I know there's such a place

I had my back turned
You didn't realize
I'm lonely

You lack the things
To which I relate
But I see no harm

Come wait, come wait, come wait
It's over.
One...two...three...do me

When I'm feeling lazy, it's probably because,
I'm saving all my energy to pick up when you move into my airspace
You move into my airspace

And something's coming over me, I see you in the doorway
I can't control the part of me that swells up when you move into my airspace
You move into my airspace

But each night, I bury my love around you...
You're linked to my innocence

This is a concept
This is a bracelet
This isn't no intervention

This isn't you yet
What you thought was such a conquest
You're hair is so pretty and red
Baby, baby you're really the best...

Can I get there this way?
I think so

We should take a trip now to see new places
I'm sick of this town
I see my face has changed.

Say hello, say hello, to the angels.


Hands Away

Will you put my hands away?
Will you be my man?
Serve it up, don't wait
Let's see about this ham.

Oh, what happened?

Home spun desperation's knowing
Inside your cover's always blown


Obstacle 2

I'm gonna pull you in close
I'm gonna wrap you up tight
I'm gonna play with the braids that you came here with tonight
I'm gonna hold your face, and toast the snow that fell
Cuz friends don't waste wine when there's words to sell

I feel like love is in the kitchen with a culinary eye
I think he's making something special
And I'm smart enough to try
If you don't trust yourself for at least one minute each day,
Well you should trust in this, girl, cuz loving is coming our way.

If you can fix me up we'll go a long way
If you can fix me up, girl, we'll go a long way.

(Take my love in real small doses.)

I will stand by all this drinking if it helps me through these days
It takes a long time just to get this all straight.
I'll showcase on Route 7 when I find the right place
It takes a long time just to get this all straight
In my mind, this is my free-time
Cuz friends don't waste wine when there's words to sell.

(Take my love in real small doses)

I will stand by all this drinking if it helps me through these days
But I've spent a long time corresponding in my own way.
I'll showcase on Route 7 when I find the right place
But it takes a long time just to get this all straight
In my mind, this is my free time...

To let it all away
Spend it all today
Spend it all today
It took time then I found you.


Stella was a diver and she was always down

When she walks down the street,
She knows there's people watching.
The building fronts are just fronts
To hide the people watching her

But she once fell through the street
Down a manhole in that bad way
The underground drip
Was just like her scuba days

Days
Daze
Days
Daze

She was all right because the sea was so airtight, she broke away
She is all right but she can't come out tonight, she broke away
She was all right, yeah the sea was so tight, air tight
She broke away, broke away

At the bottom of the ocean she dwells
At the bottom of the ocean she dwells
From crevices caressed by fingers
And fat blue serpent swells
Stella, Stella, Stella, Stella I love you

Chorus

Well, she was my catatonic sex toy, love-joy diver
She went down down down there into the sea,
Yeah she went down down down there, down there for me, right on

So good, oh yeah, right on

(There's something that's invisible,
There's some things you can't hide,
Try detect you when I'm sleeping,
In a wave you say goodbye...)


Roland

My best friend's a butcher, he has sixteen knives
He carries them all over the town at least he tries,
Oh look it stopped snowing
My best friend's from Poland and, um, he has a beard.
But they caught him with his case in that public place
That is what we had feared

He severed segments secretly you like that
He always took the time to speak with me
I liked him for that.
He severed segments so secretly you like that
He always took the time, he always took the time

My best friend's a butcher, he has sixteen knives
He carries them all over the town at least he tries,
Oh look it stopped snowing
My best friend's from Poland and, um, he has a beard.
But they caught him with his case in that public place
That is what we had feared

He severed segments secretly you like that
He always took the time to speak with me,
I liked him for that
He severed segments so secretly you like that.
He was growing on me.
He was growing on me.


The New

I wish I could live free
Hope it's not beyond me
Settling down takes time
One day we'll live together
And life will be better
I have it here, yeah, in my mind
Baby, you know someday you'll slow
And baby, my hearts been breaking.

I gave a lot to you
I take a lot from you too
You slave a lot for me
Guess you could say I gave you my edge

But I can't pretend I don't need to defend some part of me from you
I know I've spent some time lying

You're looking all right tonight
I think we should go


Leif Erikson

She says It helps with the lights out
Her rabid glow is like braille to the night.
She swears I'm a slave to the details
But if your life is such a big joke, why should I care?

The clock is set for nine but you know you're gonna make it eight.
So that you two can take some time, teach each other to reciprocate.

She feels that my sentimental side should be held with kid gloves
But she doesn't know that I left my urge in the icebox
She swears I'm just prey to the female,
Well then hook me up and throw me, baby cakes, cuz I like to get hooked.

The clock is set for nine but you know you're gonna make it eight.
All the people that you've loved they're all bound to leave some keepsakes.
I've been swinging all the time, think it's time to learn your way.
I picture you and me together in the jungle it will be ok.

I'll bring you when my lifeboat sails through the night
That is supposing you don't sleep tonight

It's like learning a new language
Helps me catch up on my mime
If you don't bring up those lonely parts
This could be a good time
You come here to me.
We'll pick up those lonely parts and set them down
You come here to me...

She says brief things, her love's a pony
My love's subliminal
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