Lyrics:
Spitting in the Face of an Angel
Dreams from Purgatory --
Part 1: Get them while they're young
Part 2: The Sales Pitch of your Soul
Part 7: Post Tripping Reflections on God, Love, Boring People, Blue Skies and Infinity
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us.
We are only the smeared shit
Across the sand paper tissues
left in the trash
of a dirty bar room crapper
Discarded by a man too impatient
to stay and finish
or for that matter flush
To be a man
is to be proud and stupid
To be an intelligent man
is simply to realize this
Do not trust the Gods
for they are just older versions
of proud stupid men
Neither young women
nor old whisky
provide any real comfort
but the combination
can get you through the night
You should have more pride
when you fart
then you do in your art
for the fart is the souls method of laughing
and unlike your art
it succeeds in its quest
The joke of life
is easier to swallow
if youre already laughing
death is a cruel punch line
I wake
to ashtrays filled with half burned regrets
and the sent of stale sex
I stumble
over empty bottles
from empty nights
with empty people
I think of Her
Her
Her with a capital (H)
There is always a (Her) in a poem like this
She is with him now
I guess theres always a him as well
we can use a small (h) for him
He was always there
he just waited around until he could pick up the pieces the rest of us
left behind
A better man then me?
Well if you believe in that fairy tale bullshit
When she left is when I first began swimming in
bottles of quickie death
Quickie Death is a lot like wine
only three times as strong
three times as deadly
and three times as quick
a slow suicide at best
slower then what?
a bullet I guess
but not by much
She is happy now
and I have a jack hammer in my head
as I lie in an empty bed
Thinking of Her
Her
Her
Her with a capital (H)
Peanut Butter and Jelly Kisses
A shiny star
beautiful
beautiful
beautiful star
a beautiful shiny star
has fallen on a dark lonely planet
fallen to bring light
fallen to bring love
fallen to bring a smile
fallen
fallen
Fallon
my secret wish
my happy dream
my magic place
the memories we hold
the memories we make
secret
happy thought simple joy
pure
love
you make me pure
you make me smile
you make me dance
oh angel of all the light
come and dance my silly daddy dance
come and play our silly games
daddy lion roooooooar
Fallon lion roooooooar
bounce Fallon bounce
spin Fallon spin
run to Daddy
run to the door
run to daddy
peanut butter and jelly kisses
climb on Daddy
jump on Daddy
oh angel of all the light
sing me your special songs
tell me your special dreams
make the bad day fade away
kiss the moon
touch the clouds
Fallon lion goes rooooooar
Daddy lion goes roooooar
listen to my words
love
joy
warm
family
always home
home is in your eyes
and peace is in your smile
oh angel of all the light
I would slay a hundred dragons or more
make all the monsters disappear
kiss the frogs and eat the dirt
walk across ceilings
and dance on top of traffic
swim in the goo
roll in the mud
save the world and burn it as well
roar at the lions and laugh at the angry
I would steal a world of joy
wrap it in a box
and give it to you
just to see
to feel
to make
you smile
Woodstock has been burning for years now
we only showed you where the flames were
Megadeth kicked the peace salesmans ass
who would of thought that Dave Mustane had their number all along
"Peace sells, but whose buying?"
Sure they sold peace
but we sold Anarchy
Im not sure which is worse
I still have punk rock on CD
but I dont play it anymore
because when I do
it makes me cry
when you can no longer bang the cell bars
slam that tin cup as hard as you can
but no sound will come out
that is when you know we all sold our souls
the last drop of truth has at last returned to the
soil
out of the hole in Wendy O Williams head
(A frighteningly true story.)
We were on two hits each and the shit was strong. It was the kind of acid that made it impossible of doing anything other than listening to long ass African drum music. Which is exactly what we were doing. Boom! Bang! A boom! Boom! Bang! Went the sacred stereo speakers as we sat in the darkness watching time loose its balance.
We were three hours into the trip when it hit me. Like a life-changing message of cosmic proportions, an overwhelming need to be alone had come over me, not alone in the sense of being by ones self but alone in the sense of being in ones own chosen reality. Magic place where all dreams, desires and hallucinations come to play with you. Place without Kings, Queens or Gods. Place where the ugly are beautiful and the evil kind, the poor are rich and the prisoners free. Place void of inferiority, a great orgy of equality: freedom, pure and simple. I call this place Magic Land and I was determined to get there.
I knew the only way to find this place was to leave the others. So I stood up and cleared my throat. "Im going," I announced as I walked out the door, hoping that there would be no further discussion.
"What the fuck do you mean - youre going?" Angel protested.
The Idea that someone would actually leave in the middle of a trip is unheard of. There is a connection that comes with tripping together that is as strong as love, well at least for eight hours or so. Breaking this seemed like blasphemy. The connection was even stronger between Angel and me, because we were what you would call trip partners for one another. We had danced along the edge of sanity in Coply Plaza. We had found where the buildings became flowers and the flowers became buildings. We had found the Garden of Eden imprisoned by Scientologist. Its there Ive seen it, and the bastards are not letting it go. Angel was my babysitter for my heavy apocalyptic trip. I almost didnt come back from that one. I guess that is why she was afraid to let me go. "You cant go outside like that, its not safe."
"Let him go!" Morris spoke up. "He needs this." Somehow that satisfied us all and I was allowed to leave.
I walked out the door unquestioned and stepped into the madness. The moment you hit the outdoors when youre tripping is a simultaneous dance of joy and fear. The fear only seems to fuel the joy. When youre tripping you have a heightened awareness of the size of the planet and the unlimited potential to be found outside that door. You can look up into the stars and realize you are looking at infinity, and you can understand what that means. I began my one-man expedition, my plan was simple find a hallucination and follow it to Magic Land. Along the way I stopped under each streetlight in an attempt to take in that power. I figured this way when I was in the dark areas I could glow, and I would still be able to see because I had brought the light with me; brilliant, isnt it?
Oddly enough I was not seeing any hallucinations to follow. Even when Im not tripping I can see severed heads out of the corner of my eye, but now there was nothing. Who would of thought that on two hits I wouldnt see anything. I was expecting that Toucan himself would come running along screaming "follow the nose, it always knows." Instead there was nothing. I wondered if the trip Gods were saving me up for the big one this time.
I walked for a while and found myself at the Lawrence-Methuen border. Like the clam flats it is neither land or water just a great pile of fish shit. There I was swimming in the shit when it arrived. It began as a car that appeared to be moving in slow motion. Something seemed wrong about it. Actually, that isnt correct, there was nothing wrong about it, but there was something that was not quite right. At first, I couldnt make out what it was, but something was hanging out of the drivers door. It was white, I was sure about that. In fact, it was glowing white. Still, what it was I couldnt say. I looked at it hard trying to find out what it was. I looked at it so hard that I didnt notice that the car had stopped.
At last, I looked up and noticed who the driver was. He was there waiting for me to see him. He was there shinning with a light that was brighter than my own. He was there with the aura of history and fame. He was there with the presence of a king. He was there with all the glory and the subtext. He was Elvis!
Elvis in that white jump suit from the Hawaii show. His cape was stuck in the car door. He must have forgotten to pull it in when he jumped into his Monte Carlo to come get me. Why not a Cadillac, I dont know. But why argue with the details, this was Elvis.
I understood this all. I knew what it was; divine madness. Elvis was to be my chauffeur to Magic Land. How perfect, I thought, Elvis and I dancing in a world of legends and lunatics. Where leprechauns and naked nymphs will bring us margaritas and chocolate covered cherries all day long as we listen to Janis Joplin singing the blues with Hendrix, and Marilyn Monroe does a strip tease for the Pope. Guilt free gluttony, angels and demons having an orgy in mud and honey. It would be a place where everything was real. Scenery by Dali, and a screenplay by Dr. Seuss. It will be perfect freedom.
Elvis gave me a knowing wink and then nodded his head and smiled. I nodded my head as well and gave him an even bigger smile back. He drove the car around so the passenger door was facing me. He leaned over opened the door and padded the seat motioning me to get in.
I was just about to get in when the horrible truth came up and hit me. (Wham!) It was at this time when I realized my situation. This was not a hallucination, and that was not Elvis. This was some fucked up guy dressed as Elvis, and he was trying to solicit me for sex. That is what all this was about. This fucking guy was some perverted Elvis fan from hell trying to have sex with me.
I ran! I ran as fast as I could. I ran faster than I have ever run in my whole life. I ran blocks and miles. I ran all the way to my house, locked the door and hid under the bed. There it was all of it. Elvis! The subtext was not lost on me. Elvis! The hero of my parents generation! Elvis! The king of all things plastic. It was all there, and it all wanted to have sex with me! Elvis wanted to fuck me! I cried holding my eyes shut, trying to make it all go away.
There is a moral to this story, boys and girls. Before you try and play with a hallucination, you better make damn sure that it is a hallucination!
Pick up the sacred stones and throw them through the glass house
a life is lost a life is lost
ask the lost and found at your local department store
they know
they know it all
Nietzsche lost his notebook there
they kept it
the bastards!
ask them
ask them
God is not dead
but he is in retirement
do not fear death
it is only the sequel
we always have reruns
where is it
where is that thing I lost
I lost it before I could name it
I asked the guys at the department store
but they said "If you cant name it, you cant get it."
that is how they tricked Nietzsche
I think I lost it somewhere between the Garden of Eden and Boston
The world didnt end that night
somehow that was a let down
I feel that the people in Waco were lucky
because I bet when they saw those flames
they thought it was the end of the world
imagine dying convinced that you were right
Spitting In the Face of an Angel
Working the streets she said
been gone, gone again
gone are the days of love
youth
trip parties
losing are minds in Boston.
THEY STOLE THE GARDEN OF EDEN!
Ive seen it,
looked away.
Imprisoned by Scientologist,
life is a con
my poor Eve.
What have they done to you?
I was the fool in the garden,
like you had said.
It was warm there,
its cold now.
Cold hell
cement prison.
All that green,
that lovely green,
where has it gone?
Eve my angel,
lost behind those eyes.
The windows are dirty,
the focus is blurred.
Life through screen windows,
After a while
you cant see those little metal lines.
Look long enough
you will forget they are there.
Look long enough
and you will believe you are free.
Free to touch the outside,
the warm air.
Wipe clean those eyes dear,
those angel eyes.
I remember when I first noticed them.
The sweet angel in black,
wind blowing your hair.
I can still smell that moment.
scent,
an actual scent,
thats how real it is to me,
the moment I saw those angel eyes,
and the eternal smile.
I still see it now
through the scars and pain,
through the bruised arms
and dirty secrets.
Cocaine stripper,
heroin whore,
I still see the angels eyes,
looking for answers,
asking me why?
Why?
Why?
I should have loved you.
I was afraid of you,
I didnt feel I was worthy,
I could not allow myself such happiness.
You were so fucking beautiful.
Perfect beauty
smile
angel eyes
cry
Tears of the fool
the fool in the garden.
I failed you,
I failed my Eve,
and now they have the garden,
and you have bruises on your arm.
I was too busy
trying to go mad
for fashions sake.
Insanity was very in that year.
pathetic unknown artist
of no art.
fool in the garden
afraid to love.
I let the snakes have you instead,
I felt them more worthy than myself.
Damn the snakes!
Damn the cars!
Damn the pavement prisons,
Stone walls of expression,
fools gold.
End construction,
the city is never done
always under repair.
The planet has bruised arms
pavement is like cheap makeup,
for the battered whore.
Hell is a vacation from this.
from life
What life have you?
What happened to the angel.
Roll over,
its time to fuck the other side.
Failed fool of no art,
son of a bitch.
wasted
time is.
You had the power to freeze time.
You were timeless.
Working the streets she said.
I wish that could mean something else.
Maybe shes a street vendor.
Dirty hot dogs for ignorant bankers,
bag of potatoes and salt,
can of bubbly piss.
maybe
or maybe not
Dont say it anymore.
Dont tell me shit
I want to explode into the sun.
Fuck the world!
and Fuck man as well!
What has happened to oue Eves?
Where did we go wrong?
Fuck me!
My ego
I actually think I have something to do with it?
As if I could stop death,
slap it in the face,
Tell it to get the fuck away from my Eve.
I pity myself still.
Fool dying every time I trip.
Trying to reach heaven through insanity.
float away
away from the real heaven,
away from the real truth.
Bruised arms of my love,
caution me not.
Im the everlasting fool.
Softly I whisper my sweet.
Touch is not a dirty word,
and feel is not a fantasy.
Touch
Feel
Love
I want to live behind the eyes of angels.
I want to hide in your smile.
Curl up in a ball.
I would love you.
I would grow old with you.
I would melt into a sticky puddle,
and live under theatre seats with you,
grabbing at the bastards feet,
Make them stay for the next show.
Youre a movie,
an after school special,
a picture for the world,
"DONT DO THIS"
it reads
crawl through the muck of the streets.
I want to kiss those bruised arms,
suck the sickness out
suck out the venom.
I want to steal you away,
lock you in a room
until you are well.
Hide in the trees,
go to the trees.
Leave the cement.
Why do you reappear?
What do you want me to do?
What are you waiting for?
I cry my sweet.
I cry because
I cant write what I feel.
I cant say it either.
Angel eyes,
Let me drink your tears.
We will get drunk off of each others pain.
Swim in ecstasy.
Flesh will become liquid.
If I could make love to you right,
I would split the seas,
and free your enslaved soul,
liquify our very being,
show you lust and love,
sweat in rain.
Soft is my voice,
soft is my thought.
Tears for the whore.
The angel pretending to be a whore.
You are an angel for Gods sake!
You are love.
You are life.
You are so easy to love.
It seems to me now,
that is all you really wanted,
and I am the fool.
The fool that was given a second chance.
I was kissed by an angel,
but still stayed a toad
out of fear.
I thought you too good for me.
That is why I couldnt make love to you.
Its true,
I thought myself too pathetic
for love.
Self pity is my drug,
and I overdosed years ago.
You are still an angel to me.
The most beautiful angel Ive ever seen.
I want to kiss the bruises on your arm,
softly,
just two short pecks,
and say
pain go way
pain go away.
Get Them While Theyre Young
The screaming yellow arches
Rose above the constructed horizon
Like a mourning sun
Deep down in the belly of the beast
Children play with plastic movie advertisements
While supplies last
Singing
I am happy, because Im programmed to be
The Sales Pitch of Your Soul
Poo diddle Cola is the best cola you can buy
Poo Diddle Cola is a sexy cola made from sexy ingredients for sexy people
like you
Poo Diddle Cola is the best part of your generation
In fact it is the single distinguishing characteristic of your generation
It is what separates you from the losers
It is the proof that youre not just a follower
You belong
Poo Diddle Cola is the reward you deserve for the work that you do
It may be the only reason you work at all
Go ahead have one
Have two
Hell buy a whole case
Youve earned it
Poo Diddle Cola is America
It is freedom
It is youre wholly God given right
To drink as much if not more then you want
Poo Diddle Cola is heaven in a bottle
You should buy six or seven cases of it right now
Fill up a bathtub
And bath in all of its sticky goodness
Youre a good farther
A loving husband
A fine member of society
You deserve a cool cold glass of Poo Diddle Cola
Share a glass with your son
Thats what all the good fathers do
Show the little tike what it means to be alive
On second thought fuck your kid
And fuck your wife as well
What have they done for you lately?
You dont need them
All you need is Poo Diddle Cola
You should buy truckload of the crap right now
Drive off to somewhere secluded
And drown yourself with our handy single serve kegs
Poo Diddle Cola it may taste like shit
But it goes down smooth
Dreams From Purgatory part 3
Under a neon sun
The dead do not sleep in this town
They walk around all day bumming change from you
And stealing your car radios at night
The dead are a great annoyance to the living
And they are beginning to out number us
Sucking away at what little soul this town has left
The dead are artist that do not create
Instead they just feed off each other
Praising one another for their nothingness
The dead are walking voids
Black holes
That will suck you in if you get too close
Soon this town will be empty yet full
Infested with nothing
For we are all dead or dying under the neon sun
Dreams from Purgatory part 4:
Pop Art
Imagine a machine
A machine that could write music
Perfect music
A machine that would break down
The mathematical
technological
Rhythmical
Factors
of every popular song ever written
then it would use that information
to analyze
criticizes
and commercialize
music
perfect music
from a machine
people would love that machine
people would literally love the machine
or maybe
they would love the man that built the machine
fifty thousand fans or more
fifty thousand fans or more
fifty thousand fans
will pack arenas
with lighters up
groupies
oh yea groupies
groupies would walk throw miles
of mud and filth
go down on several
dirty unwashed
security guards
with questionable sexual back grounds
just for a chance
just for that mer chance
that they might be able to flash him their tits
fifty thousand fans or more
fifty thousand fans or more
fifty thousand fans
will pack arenas
with lighters up
and there on that stage
in front of fifty thousand fans or more
that man
the man that built the machine that could write perfect music
that man would walk out to the center of the stage
and he would turn on his machine
Dreams From Purgatory part 5:
The Birth of Hate
and the sun in her wisdom choose to rise
bringing light faith and warmth to the world
man looked around at the magnificent beauty of nature
and felt content and safe
and night in reaction to the sun fell
bringing darkness doubt and cold to the world
man looked around at the vast terrifying endless void
and felt uncertainty and fear
so man in defiance of the night built machines
bringing artificial light and warmth to the void
and he felt strong and victorious
and the sun returned and roes again
bringing light to the ugly world
that man built out of fear
and man in his wisdom
learned to hate the sun
Dreams from Purgatory part 6:
Pick a Tree
7.
Death does not interest me now
I do not believe in endings anymore
To climax
To peak
to splat
Shutter to think
This or that
6.
Never stop climbing
realize infinity
mock your anger
for it mocks you
mocks purpose
or the pleasant lack of
4,
Swimmers are a fool
they fight the current
that is only mothers pleasant caress
why fight her love
3.
Are these my words
or theirs
it would be better if they were yours
2. part 1
Safe in words
are minds
2. part 2
Free love
share
1.
Peace
Dreams from Purgatory Part 7:
Post Tripping Reflections on God, Love, Boring people, Blue Skies and Infinity
I amazed how after all of the hate waste and greed
in this world the ski still manages to be blue.
Sure it has its off days with smog, fog and byproducts of way too many
things that we do not need,
But on some days it is the glow of a soft colored kiss.
Dawn or dusk, light or shade, beautiful brilliant blue.
Here comes the sun. John said, or was it Paul?
It doesnt really matter.
Something
Something is gaining momentum you can feel it, taste it in the air.
Coming on the big finish!
Fear of life
Fear of zeros
Time is so fucking relative.
I think
I feel
I sense
A million boring people getting bored.
They stopped wondering what it was.
They stopped caring
Stopped thinking
They forgot that having nothing to do is a good thing.
Rest
Meditate
Nap like a cat.
Instead theyve grown bored and tired.
It is time for change not death
People seem too ready to die.
It is sad.
The world is going through a midlife crisis.
People will lie down and end.
Cease.
Not by bullet
Blade
Rope
Or pills
Just nothing
Void
Just plan stop!
You know what I hope?
What I pray?
What I believe?
Truth
My truth is that there are others.
Who do not fear life.
Who want love, and enjoy loving.
Love
Peace
Sharing
All that wonderful hippie bullshit.
No hate
No envy
No pain
Only love
And life
Dancing
And playing
Under the beautiful,
Brilliant
Blue skies of infinity.
Dreams from Purgatory
Infinity
The ancient myth
Heaven
Hell
Purgatory
No talk of earth
Earth?
Earth?
Earth is only the simultaneous dreams from Purgatory
We are the leftovers of life.
We just couldnt get it right
Time to choose
Love or hate
Pain or joy
Life or death