See also: "Outliars and Hyppocrates: a fun fact about apples", "Marsha, Thankk You for the Dialectics, but I Need You to Leave", and Untitled ('Good Old-Fashioned American Depression').
(Italics indicate spoken-word.)
Hey! Uh, it's the first day of SEDA. This is a song that, um, a couple of, uh, the melodies and lyrics had come to me before, but I didn't finish piecing together until, like, 20 minutes ago. Um, and uh, y'know, so bear with me if it's a- if it's a little bit rough around the edges. Um, hope you like it. *clears throat*
Did you know that the hole in the apple didn't come from the outside in?
It was eaten from the core and out to the skin, and that's why you'll never find a worm in it.
But a few bad ones won't spoil the bunch if they fall far enough from the tree.
So take a bite of me, and let me plant my seeds in your stomach.
Well this disease is defined by its treatment. You people make me sick.
Parlance of imbalanced cambia's been challenged at best. AstraZeneca's just theoretical.
Prints of your fingers in the Rorschach, and say you saw a treasure map.
Straightjacket and tie, psychiatric supply, why we tragically try to fit into a trap. But
Who'd choose to be human anyway? Those awful, soft, and crude machines?
Say, what made you come out that this way? Like freaks of nurture?
Well isn't it funny? Well not ha-ha funny but y'know, funny.
Baby, don't you get it? I ain't getting better anytime soon.
You know its true. Well did I, well did I, oh did I, didn' I warn ya'.
Baby, don't you get it? I ain't getting better anytime soon.
And I am you. Ohhh.
Jesus, please just believe us.
Like the way that we were told to believe in you.
We've undressed from our Sunday best, but no tailor's got no tools for no birthday suit.
So the least that you could do is return the favor.
Our saving disgrace is that we're the savior.
I am the shadows cast aside by gallows, and you the red-hot sky.
And if you're believers, then why would you grieve for the
Dead, let alone the devil that you never prayed for?
You become immune to the toxic fumes, my dose-dependent presence in your life.
Its all subjective, we're just one collective crazy mind.
Too weird to love, too scared to die. Too alien to take you home.
Horrified at the sight of my reflection in your eyes. I don't belong there
Its your conclusions that make mine delusions, well then I make you sane.
You can thank me later.
Baby, don't you get it? I ain't getting better anytime soon.
You know its true. Oh did I, oh did I, oh did I, didn' I warn ya'.
Baby, don't you get it? I ain't getting better anytime soon.
I am you. Ohhh.
Lover, why do you turn out the lights
If beauty's in the eyes of those beholding? Oh could you hold me closer?
We get dressed to impress, I guess, in layer after layer to get off our chests.
Its cold out now, we can take it off later.
Better safe than sorry and we both know the danger.
I, oh-oh-ohhh, oh-ohh, oh-ohh. Oh, oh oh oh, oh-oh-ohhh.
Who'd want to belong to anyone? I mean, what do people even do?
Well if you love me, let me let you go, my love. And I'll be no one...
When Chuang-Tzu awoke, he shot up almost choking, sa-spat out a butterfly and said "five more minutes, please?"
Baby, don't you get it? I ain't getting better anytime soon.
Oh, you know its true. How did I, oh did I, oh did I, didn' I warn ya'.
Baby, don't you get it? I ain't getting better anytime soon.
I am you. Ohhh.
Doctor, could you run another test?
Got a feeling that this time I may just pass it. Oh, could you raise the average?
We all sing when the bell curve rings in lyrics symptomatic of the way we think.
If our harmonies don't sync, we can change our voices. A chorus on condition of our diagnosis.
Thank you.
See also: "Tomcat Disposables."
(Italics indicate spoken-word.)
Let's see if this, right here, is worth anything. Lemme tell you, uh, trying to squeeze a song out every day, you're gonna get a lot of stinkers.
Show me colors that I can't name, paint my islands and map my veins.
Let me sink, dissolve, become the prayer bones forever.
If you reach it, you've gone too far. Shave the knife tree in your yard.
Coughing up the ghosts you caught from diesel whispers, swamp gas.
Oh I, my own eye, wait no I, forgot what I was gonna say-ay-ay.
Well if you love me, let me let you go. Put my innocence to the test.
And if I knew then I would let you know, before my citizen's arrest.
Thought I oughtta let you know.
Thought I oughtta let you know.
Thought I oughtta let you know.
Memories on a plastic sky. Squinting hard at the Magic Eye.
Put your head right through the drywall. Welcome home, how are you?
Evidence of intelligent design. Sinews, tissue, blood and brine.
All the complicated either window to your black hole.
Oh I, wait no I, wait no I, forgot what I was gonna say again.
Well if you love me, let me let you go. Put my innocence to the test.
And if I knew then I would let you know, before my citizen's arrest.
Thought I oughtta let you know.
Thought I oughtta let you know.
Thought I oughtta let you know.
I missed. Did you see that? I just straight-up missed. *plays correct chord* There we go. That's SEDA day two. Hope you dig it. And if you don't, too bad! I'm not writing another one today.
See also: "Cicada Days."
Greener grass grows where the wildfires fertilize
With ashes of sparrows, peppered moths, and butterflies
Ghosts of trees and termites bloom in the beanstalk
When you get lightheaded when standing too fast
Is it from shaking out the weight of phosphenes and pasts
Salt deposits on warm little rivers that burst from our words
And god knows crying ain't gonna change a thing
She said "take care," but I take more than I bring.
She said "It just feels inhumane to lose this much"
Cause when you leave, you know you take more than your love
And I guess that I must feel the same to pull and push
And I know it just feels inhumane to lose this much.
Our veins got tangled under plastic stars
Glowed-in-the-dark, hanging over queen-sized
Purple waves of ancient chemicals
Just whispered
And did you ever build with those endangered bones?
Well the ground looks soft enough to bury this now
Oh, please, oh no.
And my sponsor said "Do nothing. Nothing works."
And my doctor said "Don't do that if it hurts."
She said "It just feels inhumane to lose this much."
And when you leave, you know, you take more than your love.
I guess that I must feel the same to pull and push
And I know it just feels inhumane to lose this much.
Keep coming back, it works if you work it
It won't if you don't, you work it, you're worth it
One day at a time, tomorrow's too late, amen.
(Instrumental.)
(Italics indicate spoken-word.)
I'm breaking up to one day-
Fucking, what the fuck. Ragh.
So, the key of C is, like, the easiest key for me to play in, uh, but one of my worst keys vocally. So, uh, bear with me, 'cause this is like my eighth take now and I sound like Captain Beefheart.
The love isn't gone, maybe gone to sleep.
What day will he wake up, put on some makeup?
Breaking up so one day it'll meet the person that you become.
Well who do we have here?
Who appears near in my rearview mirror?
Who disappeared with my memories?
Well were you Persephone, hiding in Gethsemane?
From friends who will inevitably become bigger enemies
Than anyone we cheat on or cheat...
So be careful of the company you keep!
It takes a special kind of fool to wanna fall in love.
Have you tried putting any thought into it?
'Cause a fall implies an impact from a trippin' or a shove.
If something hurts, then why would I wanna do it?
But hold my hand, maybe we'll walk into it.
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
So now my suitcase is full, so what could you expect?
From a two headed dragon in a station wagon.
Okay, sorry to bother you, next.
Now my head's cracking open on the corners of your heart.
I could drive you crazy, as I am a baby,
And that's what I can offer you at best.
Sorry if it seems like I only just apologize.
And never get better, instead only beggin', "Let me try again."
Maybe you'll develop a callus.
Figure out if I make mistakes or malice.
It takes a special kind of fool to wanna fall in love.
Have you tried puttin' any thought into it?
Because a fall implies an impact from a trippin' or a shove.
If something hurts, then why would I wanna do it?
But hold my hand, baby, we'll walk into it.
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
So baby, get your hopes down.
It only goes to show how noone seems to know if it's a breakup or a breakdown.
I believe in love, I've tried it.
It's just that's not the word I use to describe it.
Oh, it takes a special kind of fool to wanna fall in love.
Have you tried putting any thought into it?
Because a fall implies an injury or shover from above.
If something hurts, then why would I wanna do it?
Oh, it takes a special kind of fool to wanna fall in love.
Have you tried putting any thought into it?
Because a fall implies an injury or shover from above.
If something hurts, then why would I wanna do it?
Oh, maybe we'll walk into it!
It takes a special kind of fool to wanna fall in love.
It takes a special kind of fool to wanna fall in love.
It takes a special kind of fool to wanna fall in love.
Don't you see?
To fall in love with me!
Fuck. Good enough.
See also: "'And If I Did, You Deserved It.' ('In case I make it,' Outtake)."
(Italics indicate spoken-word.)
I want a new pair of shades, get paid to wear shoes
Do what I say, don't say what I do when we're alone now
High up but a low down
You know I'm not the type of guy to turn my back on a knife
And that's why I'm still looking in the mirror
Oh, I want to be safe from the fame, be loved from afar
Get paid to write my name, can you airbrush my scars?
Get my good side. Don't get on my bad side.
You know I'm not the type of guy to turn my back on a knife
It's just my luck these motherfuckers talking smack on a guy
But I'm deserving every word they could begin to apply
Well, at least they know now
That I really don't care what you think or what you say
I'm a cancer, I'm malignant, yeah you ought to stay away
My hearts fucking empty, and I'm trying to fill it up.
But it's not big enough for the both of us
No it's not big enough for the both of us
I want no less than the best but the best I can do
Is do the worst thing first and leave the rest up to you.
I'm realistic, but everyone's a critic.
If I keep beating myself up, I'll keep on winning the fight and getting my ass kicked
I'm poisonous not toxic
I'll admit when I'm wrong, but just to be right
If it fits in the song I'll rhyme that with "contrived"
Don't meet your idols. Hey fuck you, I'm your idol.
But the only label that'll sign is in the DSM-5, cause my flaws are sorta on the pathological side.
Don't call me eccentric, call me mentally sick, 'cause I ain't sold enough tickets yet to be rich, and that's the only difference
I really don't care what you think or what you say
I'm a cancer, I'm malignant, yeah you oughtta stay away
My hearts fucking empty, and I'm trying to fill it up
But it's not big enough for the both of us
No it's not big enough for the both of us
All identities are equally invalid
All identities are equally invalid
All identities are equally invalid
All identities are equally invalid
All identities are equally invalid
All identities are equally invalid
All identities are equally invalid
And so is uh, so is, uh, uh, well, pretty much everything else I have to say for the rest of this song.
I really don't care, I really don't care, I really don't care what you think or what you say.
No, I'm not the type of guy to turn my back on a knife
It's just my luck these motherfuckers talking smack on a guy
I'm deserving every word they could begin to apply
Don't call me eccentric, call me mentally sick, 'cause I ain't sold enough tickets yet to be rich, and that's the only difference
I really don't care what you think or what you say
I'm a cancer, I'm malignant, yeah you oughtta stay away
My hearts fucking empty, and I'm trying to fill it up
But it's not big enough for the both of us
I really don't care what you think or what you say
I'm a cancer, I'm malignant, yeah you oughtta stay away
My heart's fuckin' empty, and I'm trying to fill it up
But it's not big enough for the both of us
No it's not big enough for the both of us
No it's not big enough for the both of us
See also: "Suburbia Overture / Greetings from Mary Bell Township! / (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally", "BlackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA", and "...well, better than the alternative."
(Italics indicate spoken-word.)
Good whatever, whoever! This is a song you may have heard if you tuned into an Instagram Live stream at the right time. It's a lot of fun to play, and it's even more fun to listen to! *laughs*
White picket fences. Barbed wire and trenches.
Trick or treat. Merry Christmas. Howdy neighbor. Thank you, Jesus.
What is he building in that painted lady?
A participation trophy wife or blonde, blue-eyed baby?
Wide-eyed and wired. The snap-crackle-pop of the Geiger.
Camouflage billboards and lead-lined Brooks Brothers. You elbow the jukebox and sing "Duck and Cover,"
And breed out our incisors, just drink white wine and Pfizer,
It don't look like survival, but buy now or die.
Suburbia. You're not alone. The lights are on, but noone's home. So welcome home.
Meyers-Briggs, OK-ULTRA, takes a village to fake a whole culture.
Your ear to the playground, your eye on the ball, your head in the gutter, your brains on the wall.
Home is where the heart is. You ain't homeless, but you're heartless.
Its the safest on the market, but you still gotta watch where you park it.
So give me your half-life crisis. I can tell you know where paradise is.
Where parasites don't care what your blood type is. Only pheromones and serotonin decide
If its true that a snowflake only matters in a blizzard.
Well everyone knows that nobody knows that everybody's all up in all your business.
Suburbia. You're not alone. The lights are on, but noone's home. So welcome home.
Suburbia. Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, woah-woah-woah-woah-woah woah-woah-woah-woah-woah.
The lights are on, but noone's home. So welcome home.
Chameleon peacocks are talk of the town.
Well word gets around on Hit Number Stations. He cums radiation.
The dog bites the postman while basement eyes dream.
Of a night at the drive-in with an AR-15.
See also: "Why?"
(Italics indicate spoken-word.)
Why? Why'd you do that?
You shouldn't have done that. If I told you once, I told you three times.
That you catch your punishment when you show me your crimes, and
It's not the spell or curse you put on me, or the way you make me smile so tenderly.
How I wish it was your temper you were throwin'.
Damn you for being so easygoin'.
I thought that time would tell. Oooh...
That my sins would provoke you, hey! To raise, raise some hell.
No... Not a chance.
Whatever happened to fiery romance?
I said, "How I wish it was your dishes you were throwing.
Damn you for being so easygoing."
Why? Why'd you do that?
Why'd I do what? I'm not doing anything, I'm just standing here.
Nah, see, that's just the thing.
Why'd you have to do nothing?
And I thought that time would tell. Oooh...
That my sins would provoke you to raise, hey! Raise some hell.
N-no... Don't give me that line.
Don't try to tell me inaction is not a crime.
Can't you see what kind of seeds you're sowin'?
Damn you for being so easygoin'.
*laughs* I give up.
See also: "2econd-2ight-2eer", "Coitus with Regulations", and "Heather's Big Break."
Disclaimer: This song is fast as all hell, wordplay-dense, and doesn't appear to have any transcriptions besides this, and as such, these lyrics are spotty in parts, and almost certainly riddled with errors besides.
(Italics indicate spoken-word.)
Tell me, tell me, baby boy, baby girl, lately I've been lettin' go of my breath.
Been waitin' on a chicken-wire noose to strangle, tangle me by the neck.
Lockin' the doors of perception, I been droppin' my jaw to the floor.
And poppin' it back into its sockets, tryna stop it.
My God, give me shock therapy.
Ready for the prescription to the addiction to have any condition.
And I gotta be fixin' to mixin' fiction and factuality.
When in actuality, I'm slippin' in and out of reality.
It's like LSD, like DMT, like CBT, not the therapy.
So tell me, tell me, baby boy, baby girl, lately I've been checkin' my pulse to inspect.
I been waitin' on a revelation, fadin' coincidence, cut from a different kind of flesh.
Glad to be meant I might be, my third eye's open and I like what I see.
Baby, I may be crazy, but I didn't lose it, oh I set it free.
God knows that's no fucking excuse to let the things I am just seem like things I do.
But I can lie to you to keep you true to me.
With my moral compass pointing south, going down. With no respect for reality.
You know I'm evil, babe, you know I cannot lie.
You know I'm all fucked up, and I deserve to die.
You know I'm evil, babe, you know I cannot lie.
You know I'm oh-oh-oh, uh-huh.
*mimics kazoo with mouth*
I'm a four-ton ?????? ?????? forty-headed hydra.
Nomophobic kind, but you know I'm not designed for this.
Some kind of borderline disorder, find it hot
That I can make you hate me by telling you my real thoughts.
Could be the personality disease- ??? ??? malady to fuck a tree.
Come on, suck it up, Eve-
Eat the damned granny green apple quickly.
Hope Jesus don't see me feeding you sweets.
Christ Almighty, I been speakin' in tongues, screamin' at the top of my lungs in the confession booth.
And who knew the truth was so loose?
Guess I better put on my good shoes, get used to
Prayin' for my luck, 'cause you're followin' the North Star.
Betcha bottom buck that you're fucked as a pornstar.
Tell me, tell me, baby boy, baby girl, whatever- am I gonna stay the same way forever?
God knows that's no fucking excuse to let these things I am just seem like things I do.
But I can lie to you to keep you true to me.
With my moral compass pointing south, going down. With no respect for reality.
You know I'm evil, babe, you know I cannot lie.
You know I'm all fucked up, and I deserve to die.
You know I'm evil, babe, you know I cannot lie.
You know I'm oh, mm, yeah.
*mimics kazoo with mouth*
You know I'm evil, babe, you know I cannot lie.
You know I'm all fucked up, and I deserve to die.
You know I'm evil, babe, you know I cannot lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie.
You know I'm evil, babe, you know I cannot lie.
You know I'm all fucked up, and I deserve to die.
You know I'm evil, babe, you know I cannot lie.
You know I'm oh-oh-oh.
See also: "Suburbia Overture / Greetings from Mary Bell Township! / (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally."
Do you know the difference between blazing trails and slash-and-burn?
Going against the grain and wanting splinters?
You hold up your Rorschach like a paint-by-numbers treasure map,
The ink upon your jigsaw piece traces you back to your fingerprints.
Well Lot, he had his lot in life, and you will too, I guess, and die.
The Lord looked down, said, "Hey, you're only mortal."
Giveth and taketh away 'til things come out a certain way.
Leave you wondering why they couldn't have been normal.
Leave you wondering why they couldn't have just been normal.
Do you know the difference between culture and reality?
The truth that lies beyond the lives we live in.
Think about it, what you are's defined the most by what you're not.
So where you belong best is where you don't fit in.
Like flowers from the ?????? ???, you from where the atoms clash.
The point is, there's no social grace, no morals.
First, consider there's no God. Next thing you know, all meaning's gone.
And that's the reason why you can't be normal.
And that's the reason why you can't be normal.
Next thing, note if nothing's real, then well I guess everything is.
Nothing's changed and yet, everything has.
Yet another song that ends where i find i got it wrong.
Oh well. That's the way it is.
Well Job, he had his lot in life, and you will too, I guess, and die.
The sky looked down, said, "Hey, you're only mortal."
Giveth and taketh away 'til you come out a certain way.
Leave you feeling sick and sad, and strange and abnormal.
Leave you feeling sad, sick and strange, and so abnormal.
Leave you wondering why you can't have just been normal.
See also: "Skeleton Appreciation Day in Vestal, NY (Bones)", "Fibrodysplasia Ossificans Progressiva."
(Italics indicate spoken-word.)
Good whatever, folks, and happy Skeleton Appreciation Day to y'all from Vestal, New York. I'm here, coming to you from Binghamton University, 'cuz I'm playing in downtown Binghamton tonight. Figured I'd stop by some old stomping grounds, and, y'know, play a little tune for y'all. Um, I- I tried setting this up in a more... not-this-place place, uh, but it's too indie for my skeleton. And, uh, and also for this thing. *gestures to fake plastic skeleton* Okay. *chuckles*
To cut down on my silhouette, my favorite foods are smoke and hearts.
My leftovers fret, forget stiletto-self vendettas, while my cracking backbone lacks but backs up my false starts.
All nightmares start as dreams and I hear my subconscious screamin'.
They say that beauty's just skin deep, so naturally, please show me your-
Bones, bones, bones.
Let me see your bones.
Well I don't wanna know if the feeling follows home.
Bones, bones, bones.
Hell, we're all alone.
If I come home, baby, will you show your bones?
Lumps in throats and petticoats, your baby teeth would pray for you.
A selfish book is always open, and some of the best liars, well you know they only want the truth.
All love starts as a scheme, so wake me up, I'm tired of sleepin'.
They say that beauty's just skin deep. So obviously, please show me your
Bones, bones, bones.
Let me see your bones.
Well I don't wanna know if the feeling follows home.
Bones, bones, bones.
Hell, we're all alone.
If I come home, baby, will you show your bones?
Ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh-ah.
Ooh ooh ooh ooh.
Ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh-ah ooh.
All love starts as a scheme, all nightmares start as dreams.
So give me all your LSD so I can feel my mind unweave again.
They say that beauty's just skin deep.
So Ana stands and rends the rancid meat from her
Bones, bones, bones.
Let me see your bones.
Well I don't wanna know if the feeling follows home.
Bones, bones, bones.
Hell, we're all alone.
If I come home, baby, will you show your
Bones, bones, bones?
I can see my bones.
Well I don't wanna know if the feeling follows home.
Bones, bones, bones.
Hell, we're all alone.
If I come home, baby will you see my bones?
Ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh-ah.
Ooh ooh ooh ooh.
Ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh-ah.
Bum-ba-bum-ba-ba-ba-bum bum bum bum bum.
See also: Untitled ('You Are Love').
(Italics indicate spoken-word.)
Hey, what's up everyone? I'm coming to you from HEAD in Asbury Park, bringing you the, uh, first song in the second half of the SEDA challenge, which is more like the SEDM challenge. Or, not that, m- more like a SED-SoM, -SHoM challenge? SEDSHoM. It sounds, it sounds Hebrew, but "Song Every Day in Second Half of May". Um, because it was gonna be, uh, 30 songs, 30 days, and then it was 30 songs, 60 days. 15 songs in 15 days twice.
So um, uh, anyway, I have a song for you folks. Sorry if I'm a little bit off-kilter, a little bit low on talent. I was up really late last night in the emergency room 'cause my heart was playing polyrhythms, and, uh, stopping repeatedly, um. They discharged me, said, "Go take it up with your primary care physician!", um, I think because they were just assuming that I was just some kid having a panic attack. Uh, but, y'know, um, I know what panic attacks feel like. I don't get them often, but when I have gotten them, they've never made my heart stop.
So, um, uh, I'll be okay, though, just, uh, a little low on energy. Uh, so here is a really low-energy rendition of a song that, um, I hope you like, and if you don't like, I'm really- I'm honestly so sorry.
Oh, as I navigate my tangled veins, make my way back from my brain.
Guess the roadmap to my heart was upside down from the start.
All the blood rushed to my head, 12-car pile up, 13 dead.
Oh, "my way or the highway" falls apart.
Baby, I know what you're thinking, 'cause I know I did no good.
Maybe we can begin again, 'cause I'm thinking woulda coulda shoulda,
Really woulda coulda shoulda, woulda coulda and should!
You're that warm tuggin' on my cheeks when I can't help but smile.
You're that picture in the dictionary, babe!
You're the only lover or no other that I'm dreamin' of.
You're the definition of, you are love!
Well an X-ray's only got it's use where the light behind shines through.
Now you read my skeleton between them lines you colored in.
Make a name like Edison, taste testin' this medicine.
A spoonful of your sugar, good as new.
Baby, I know what you're thinkin', 'cause I know I did no good.
Maybe we can begin again, 'cause I'm thinkin' woulda coulda shoulda,
Really woulda coulda shoulda, woulda coulda and should!
You're that warm tuggin' on my cheeks when I can't help but smile.
You're that picture in the dictionary, babe!
You're the only lover or no other that I'm dreamin' of.
You're the definition of, you are love!
You are love!
Baby, I know what you're thinkin', 'cause I know I did no good.
Maybe we can begin again, 'cause I'm thinking woulda coulda shoulda,
Woulda coulda and should!
You're that warm tuggin' on my cheeks when I can't help but smile.
You're that picture in the dictionary, babe!
You're the only lover or no other that I'm thinkin' of.
You're the definition of, you are love!
You're that warm tuggin' on my cheeks when I can't help but smile.
You're that picture in the dictionary, babe!
You're the only lover or no other that I'm thinkin' of.
You're the definition of, you are love!
You are love! You are love! You are-
Oh my God that hurts. Okay, thank you for tuning in. Um, I'll have another one for you tomorrow. See ya.
See also: "Vampire Reference in a Minor Key."
Yeah, I keep on turning over the same old leaf again
And if it weren't on my shoulders, I'd forget to bring my head,
And if it weren't for the everything then anything could happen.
If anybody needs me, I'll be in my coffin.
Well I guess you're just my style, girl, I dig you like a tomb
And I'm sorry for all the things I've done, all the things I ask of you but please
Squeeze it in rhythm, you can prevent my heart from stopping
If you still want me come and find me in my coffin.
If you need me, I'll be in my coffin
You could come a-knockin', I'll raise hell for you
Woah, if you need me, I'll be in my coffin
And I'll be up a-day-walkin', back from the dead for you.
Back from the dead for you.
If you need me, I'll be in my coffin
You could come a-kno-ckin' and I'll be back for you
Woah, if you need me, I'll be in my coffin
??? ??? ??? under the umbrella, tell 'em all we're day-walking back from the dead for you.
Now maybe I should switch up the style of my mistakes
The hearts or promises I t-tend to prefer to break
So stop the world, melt with me, Friday I'm in love again
But-but-but-but if you need me, baby, I'll be in my coffin
Hold my hands, we'll dance the 12-step on my grave
I'd kill the man I am for one more chance to be yours, babe
I'm not begging, love. I'm just saying, I'm an option
Don't let the latest be the last nail in the coffin.
If you need me, I'll be in my coffin.
You could come a-knockin', I'll be back for you.
Woah-oh-oh-woah, if you need me, I'll be in my coffin.
I'll be up day-walking, back from the dead for you.
Back from the dead for you.
See also: "SEDA Day 24", "That's Enough, Let's Get You Home."
Talk to me please. If my side of the bed is still empty, then I
Just wanna crawl back to it.
Listen to me. It sounds like a lovebomb, a useless apology
This time I'm willing to prove it.
Please don't disappear. Become a stranger at the most.
Grasp at the air, and hope to hold onto the ghost.
Do you still love me? Do you still love me?
Well the most that I could hope for is that you say that you're not sure anymore.
Love me like you used to love me.
Tell me that there's even half a chance you do, 'cause I still love you.
I still love you.
I miss the things that we used to smile about together.
I wish one song could say it all.
Now I've started to think we could use a little more forever.
And I wanna tell you, but I'm not sure you want to talk at all.
If we fall out of love, would you still hold me while we do?
I know I tend to ask too much, but "too late" just came too soon.
Do you still love me? Do you still love me?
Well the most that I could hope for is that you say that you're not sure anymore.
Love me like you used to love me.
Tell me that there's even half a chance you do, 'cause I still love you.
I still love you.
Please don't let me go. Can we please just go home?
Am I more than just a memory? Baby, please just let me know
Do you still love me? Do you still love me?
Tell me that there's even half a chance you do.
Do you still love me? Do you still love me?
Tell me that there's even half a chance you do.
'Cause I still love you.
I still love you.
See also: "Marsha, Thankk You for the Dialectics, but I Need You to Leave."
They could prescribe you any illness you'd like if you define the terms of your ailments.
You could sing a pretty malady like a black canary. But a crow don't know the smell of carbon monoxide.
How many years have you been on that couch? They could've quilt you in the throws by now.
You draw a line in the sand, where it ends and you begin. But the tide rolls in, so who knows? Oh well.
And a little identity never hurt nobody, oh, but lately you've been focusing too much on yourself.
So how many milligrams of you are still left in there?
'Cause back in my day we didn't need no feel-good pills and no psychiatrists.
No, we just drank ourselves to death, and god damn it, we liked it.
Who makes the call? What's a symptom, what's a flaw, can it be both? Well I suppose that's an answer.
Would you give up your humanity for just a touch of sanity? Cause God knows it's not like it's some kind of cancer.
And good news to the purists: they've discovered a cure for the symptoms of being alive.
Its a painless procedure with a low rate of failure. But very few patients survive.
And a little conformity never hurt nobody, oh, but lately I've been worried that you're losing yourself.
So how many milligrams of you are still left in there?
Cause back in my day we didn't need no feel-good pills and no psychiatrists.
No, we just drank ourselves to death, and god damn it, we liked it.
And a little identity never hurt nobody, oh, but lately you've been focusing too much on yourself.
A little conformity never hurt nobody, oh, but lately I've been worried that you're losing yourself.
But how many milligrams of you are still left in there?
Cause back in my day we didn't need no feel-good pills and no psychiatrists.
Back in my day we didn't need those people, all those goddamn nihilists.
I said, "Back in the days of lobotomies and shock therapies, I ain't buyin' this."
No, we just drank ourselves to death, and god damn it.
Ain't your you-dentity at stake, does aspirin kill you with the pain,
you're not your thoughts, you're not your brain, you're just a character you've made up in your head
down in your heart, what seem like separate body parts just come together to believe they're you and not just things that breathe.
It's not the way that you were raised, nor what the advertisements say.
Not what you pray for, what you pay for, what you want, or what you say-
And I see your tendency to redefine disease by what you need
And I'm afraid I can't prescribe the diagnosis that you seek.
And something tells me that you need, forgive me now if I misspeak,
But something tells me that you like and something tells me
That you need to be sitting there flipping through those old issues of People...
...Okay goodbye. Same time next week.
See also: "The First Step", Untitled ('Man, I Love Being Drunk').
(Italics indicate spoken-word.)
In celebration of the fourth anniversary of the release of Everything Is a Lot, here's a song from Everything Is A Lot mixed with a song that didn't make it to Everything Is A Lot, because... it was a lot.
*whistles*
You could say I'm plastered, 'cause I hit the wall.
I lost count after 21, in the college crawl.
I been a boozin' bastard.
They're callin' me Edward Forty-hands can't touch anyone.
With an enemy like me, who would need a friend?
Nevermind I'm drunk.
Well we've had enough power since the blackout started for an EKG for the brokenhearted.
I'd try to see the glass as half full, but I'd probably just drink that too.
Ba-ba-boo-ba-bap-bum, glass half full, I'd probably just drink that too.
Da-ah-doo-da-da-doh, ba-ba-ba-da-bum.
Well I'm the reason they call it an "Irish Goodbye"
And I hope I don't choke on my vomit tonight.
Well I bet that a bottle of brandy so bitter'd be better than bitin' the bullet and betterin' myself. Sorry if I slur.
Take my anxiety and my sobriety, I'll kill two birds with one stoner.
So if you see me please, take my keys, I don't wanna be an organ donor yet.
Well we've had enough power since the blackout started for an EKG for the brokenhearted.
I try to see the glass as half full, uh, but I'd probably just drink that too.
Ba-ba-boo-ba-bap-boh, glass half full, I'd probably just drink that too.
Da-ah-doo-da-doh-doh, probably just drink that too.
Well I'm going down and I'm taking you with me, oh yeah.
So I'm bringing the water to the horse.
Oh, oh-oh-oh, so bring me the hair of the dog that bit me, oh yeah
So I can clone it and have a little more.
I can't hold my liquor, would you mind if I held yours?
When I'm sure I've had enough, that's how I know I need more.
It's just the booze talking, and it's speaking Japanese. Konnichiwa.
I'm sure you heard me slur my words, could someone come and translate me?
Before I got into it, they called it some-cohol.
I'm sure that I'll rue it, but I'll still ruin it all.
When I'm a solid six drinks in, you'll be a solid 10.
These beer goggles they're prescription, 20/20 double-vision.
It's a brain cell genocide, get me a Hitler on the rocks.
Wake up on a stranger's floor, face covered in sharpie cocks.
*slaps face rhythmically*
I'm not sure why they call it a liver, 'cause I'm pretty sure mine's dead-er.
Pick up chicks, get whiskey dick, and say "Fuck it, I'm going to bed"
I try to drown my sorrows, but I'm the one who's sunk.
I always forget why I regret it, man, I love being drunk.
I'm pretty sure my BAC's higher than my debit balance.
I can't afford this anymore, I'm still on my parents' allowance.
And even Hurricane Sandy never saw blackouts like mine.
Officer, I'm good to drive, but I can't walk two straight lines.
I propose a toast, peanut butter-jelly toast.
To my sorry, sorry ass, a thousand cheers go down my throat.
I said, I try to drown my sorrows, I'm the one who's sunk.
Always forget why I regret it, man, I love being drunk.
So God grant me my serenity and some courage to chase it down.
'Cause I think my higher power's gonna buy us the next round.
Bum-bum-bum, well we had enough power since the blackout started
For an EKG for the broken-hearted.
We've had no higher power since the blackout started
To defibrilate the broken-hearted.
We had enough power since the blackout started
For an EKG for the broken-hearted.
I try to see the glass as half full.
Even when I'm empty, half full.
I try to see the glass as half full.
But I'd probably just drink that too.
*whistles*
Man, I love being drunk.
(Italics indicate spoken-word.)
This is a tune I like to call "The Borderline Personality Rag."
I hate you, I love you, I hate you, I love you. Don't you leave me.
I love you, I hate you, I love you, I hate you. Don't you leave me.
I hate you, I love you, I hate you, I love you. Don't you leave me.
'Cause I can't stand changing my mind anymore, so I guess I better break your heart.
For some time I thought that if you lost my heart, you'd lose your mind.
But now I find inside I couldn't live without you by my side.
And here I am, still hot and cold. Except this time, I'm all alone.
And even if I got you back, I still know how this song would go:
"I hate you, I love you, I hate you, I love you. Don't you leave me.
I love you, I hate you, I love you, I hate you. Don't you leave me.
I hate you, I love you, I hate you, I love you. Don't you leave me.
'Cause I can't stand changing my mind anymore, so I guess I better break your heart."
See also: "Prince Ali."
Disclaimer: These lyrics have not been cross-checked with the official lyrics, as I couldn't actually find any satisfactory official lyrics, but, again, I highly doubt anyone actually cares.
(Italics indicate spoken-word.)
In light of recent events, I'd like to dedicate this next song to the victims of the wicked acts perpetrated by the Walt Disney Corporation.
Hey, clear the way in the old bazaar
Hey, you! Let us through, it's a brand-new star
Oh, come be the first on your block to meet his eye
Make way, here he comes, ring bells, bang the drums!
Oh, you're gonna love this guy!
Prince Ali, fabulous he, Ali Ababwa
Genuflect, show some respect
Down on one knee
Now, try your best to stay calm
Brush up your Sunday salaam
Then come and meet his spectacular coterie
Prince Ali, mighty is he, Ali Ababwa
Strong as ten regular men, definitely
He faced the galloping hordes!
A hundred bad guys with swords
Who sent those goons to their lords
But Prince Ali!
He's got seventy-five golden camels
And purple peacocks, he's got fifty-three
When it comes to exotic-type mammals
Has he got a zoo? I'm telling you
It's a world-class menagerie
Prince Ali, handsome is he
Ali Ababwa
That physique! How can I speak?
Weak at the knee
Yeah, get up out in that square
Adjust your veil and prepare
To gawk and grovel and stare at Prince Ali
He's got seventy-five Persian monkeys
How many Persian monkeys? Let's see the monkeys.
And to view them, he charges no fee
He's got slaves, he's got-
He's got slaves. They- that's the lyric, they say "he's got slaves." That- that- that "love serving him, bow to his whim, they're just lousy with loyalty." Come on, Alan Menken. Alan Menken, or was it Tim Rice who did those words? Come on. I mean, I guess it's, I guess, you know, ancient- anci- a-ancient Arabian prince, probably would have slaves, I guess. It's just, y'know, like, definitely not gonna impress Jasmine by braggin' about how many slaves you got.
So, y'know, uh...
Prince Ali, amorous he, Ali Ababwa
Heard your princess was a sight lovely to see!
And that, good people, is why
He got dolled up and dropped by
With sixty elephants, llamas galore
With his bears and lions, a brass band and more
With his forty fakirs, his cooks, his bakers
His birds that warble on key
Make way for Prince Ali!
God damn it, fuck.
Her lips are, from kissing the wrist scars,
Still whispering, "It's far too late for bandages now."
And her eyes are, from hoping to find stars,
Still hiding behind skylights, floodlights drowning them out.
And if you tear the roots from trees, bum bum ba-ba-ba-ba bum,
And you follow them back to the seeds, bum bum ba-ba-ba-ba bum,
You STR the sap and count the rings, would you see?
How it's not you, it's me.
It's not you, it's me.
My mouth is, from cursing about all of this,
Not listening to how this small moment seems bigger than you.
And my ears are for you, can you hear?
Aren't you scared of the near-dark? I'm scared of the light.
And if you chance to fall asleep, *whistles*
With your head buried on the beach, *whistles*
And if the tide rolls in and drags you out, would you see?
How I swear, it's not you, it's me.
Oh, it's always me.
And if I sow more than I reap, ba dum doh-doh-doh-doh doh,
If it's a harvest, if they're weeds, no oh oh-oh-oh-oh oh,
If I spread out too thin for empathy, would you see?
How I swear it's not you, it's me.
Oh, it's always me.
It's just me.
I think one of the biggest obstacles any kind of artist can face is giving a shit. I know that sounds weird, but bear with me. Any time I've tried really hard to make something great, it's been terrible, and the harder I try to make it good, the worse it turns out, almost across the board. It just seems to be some kind of- I don't know, it's, like, some wu wei shit. Whatever it is, I've also found that a lot of times, when I remember, "Oh, I'm caring too much," I try too hard to not try, and then I end up with something that just sounds like I wasn't trying at all. The answer is, I believe, to- to- some kind of not care whether or not you even care. And so, when I realized that it was nine o'clock at night and I had nothing to post for the song-a-day challenge, I scrambled and put something together, and it took me, like, 20 minutes.
Now, don't get me wrong- I had some stuff already worked out. I was, like, rummaging through my brain, like, "Oh, this thing that I wrote while driving," and I shouldn't have done that, 'cause you shouldn't play ukelele while driving. But, um, I- this thing, I can turn this into something. And so, like, 20 minutes tops later, I had this horrible piece of shit. And I have the lyrics right here. I wrote it on the back of, uh, an e-mail somebody printed out because they were technologically illiterate. Um, oh, shit, people are here! Um, okay, they're going to come in, hold on a second.
Hey, I am-
Oh!
Currently in the process of recording a video for Patreon, so come on in and I'll socialize with you in a minute.
*inaudible*
No, take your time, dude. *laughs* Not in a rush.
*laughs*
Okay, alright, so, uh, here we go. Uh, now there are people watching this. And I was, like doing a whole thing, I was, like, giving an introduction to the thing I was going to post, so, like, there's a whole, like, episode here. Okay, let's just-
I don't want no apple pie, I want arsenic.
No cherry wine, nor cyanide, ah.
Nothing ever does the trick. Sorta stricken, and
I don't want no Thorazine, no daydream to believe in, no,
The fact of the matter is that I don't even want happiness.
Well a bottle and a ??? ??? ?????? ?????????
Fillin' up the bottomless pit with glitter.
If you can't stop vomitin', or poppin' Klonopin,
Better get a big bang for your bucket list.
I might seem like a masochist, but I think I'm getting the hang of this.
So you can kiss my gluteus maximus, 'cause I don't even want happiness.
I won't put my chin up high, no stiff upper lip.
It ain't like I'm the simple kind, It's just that I can't be bothered with
Keeping up with needs and wants, no need to dream or wish
'Cause nothing's ever amiss, if you don't even want happiness.
Wouldn't you be settling for less than anything,
Let alone the best, so I guess that's everything.
No demands if you lower your standards,
And I can't expect you to respect my candor.
I might seem like a masochist, I think I'm getting the hang of this.
Well you can kiss my gluteus maximus, 'cause I don't even want happiness!
Fuck, last chord!
*laughs* *claps*
See also: "SEDA Day 16", "That's Enough, Let's Get You Home."
(Italics indicate spoken-word.)
I finished this song, like, two hours before my show on Saturday. Um, so bear with me. I've got the lyrics on the floor right here.
Please talk to me. If my edge of the bed is still-
I finished writing this song, like, two hours before my show on Saturday. So, uh, bear with me. I've got the lyrics written on the floor over here. No I don't, fuck.
I finished writing this song, like, two hours before my show on Saturday. So, uh, bear with me. This is, uh, the latest draft of a tune I posted a few days ago. Uh, I was playing it on ukelele before, but, um, uh, I like it better on keyboard.
Please talk to me. If my edge of the bed is still empty,
Then let me rest my haunted head beside you.
Don't let this be like times that turn inside-out on your welcome mat,
Just to become someone new to say goodbye to.
Don't disappear. Become a stranger at the most.
I grasp at the air, and try to hold onto the ghost.
Do you still love me? Do you still love me?
Well the most that I could hope for is that you say that you're not sure anymore.
Love me, do you still love me?
Tell me that there's even half a chance you do, 'cause I still love you.
Do you still love me too?
I miss the things you like, oh, the things we used to smile about together.
And the faces you make, the clothing you dress in,
The things you express and the things you're expressin'. What have I done?
Sorry means nothing and I want to say everything, so for goodness' sake, please answer your phone.
If we fall out of love, could you please hold me while we do?
I know I tend to ask too much, but "too late" just came too soon.
Do you still love me? Do you still love me?
Well the most that I could hope for is- is that you say you're not sure anymore.
Love me, do you still love me?
Tell me that there's even half a chance you do, 'cause I still love you.
Do you still love me too?
Don't let me go. Can we please just go home?
Do I gotta be a memory? Baby, please just let me know,
Do you still love me? Do you still love me?
Well the most that I could hope for is that you say that you're not sure anymore.
Love me, like you used to love me.
Tell me that there's even half a chance you do, 'cause I still love you.
Do you still love me too?
A couple pretty shitty notes in there, but, um, it's too hot to try again.
See also: "The Song with Five Names, a.k.a. Soapbox Tao, a.k.a. Checkmate Atheists! a.k.a. Neospace Government, a.k.a. You Can Never Know (feat. Alex Nauth)"
Why, I can't see, that I am the "me" that I was born into.
And what's the source of you?
In your head, in your head, in your head.
And yet you believe it's true.
Like you do. Like you knew anything ever.
Never trust in yourself or anyone else. We've always all been wrong.
And we built these walls strong.
Even I might define, won't deny that I'm trying while my
eyes do defy and belie quiet liars as I
Say what I say any way I may be saying it but
I've been wrong before.
You can break a shovel when you break new ground. You dig dirt up when you dig deep down.
You should know better than that by now. It's not profound to know that you can never know.
You can never know. You can never know. You can never know.
Don't you forget that all you project is just to protect you from
the void within the form.
What we are is what we are not. אֶהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר אֶהְיֶה
What myths must make us man?
What is "is"? What is not? What is "what?"
What's up, party people? What?
What I wonder? Why I'm not "whatever."
What the fuck? 'Cause
You can break a shovel 'cause I break new ground. You dig dirt up when you dig deep down.
You should know better than that by now. It's not profound to know, you can never-
You can break a shovel when you break new ground. You dig dirt up when you dig deep down.
You should know better than that by now. It's not profound to know that you can never know.
I noticed that the sunshine is a gaslight.
I'm hoping that this one might be my past life.
My Lord, I know enough to get my facts right.
And it's good enough for me.
And everything and everyone will die soon,
and there'll be nothing left for us to lie to.
No matter what we seek you'll never find truth,
and that's good enough for me.
So give me that Old Time Religion. Gimme that Old Time Religion.
Give me that Old Time Religion. It's Good Enough For Me.
So give me that Old Time Religion. Gimme that Old Time Religion.
Give me that Old Time Religion. It's good enough, but not enough
to be Good Enough For Me.
'Cause you can break a shovel when you break new ground. You dig dirt up when you dig deep down.
You should know better than that by now. It's not profound to know that you can break a-
You can break a shovel when you break new ground. You dig dirt up when you dig deep down.
You should know better than that by now. It's not profound to know that you can never know.