Routine, where there’s no distraction between the unwholesome and unwhole emotions of the everyday machine. Fatal feelings are piling upon the fight just to hang on. Then something new will intervene: Neurotransmission of molecules reaching receptors to stimulate crucial conversion to simple fuels. Doldrums abate. Every day the same thing. Every day, every day the same thing. Every day, every day, every day the same thing. Ride my peptide-turning ebb and flow. Every day the same thing. Every day, every day the same thing. Every day, every day, every day the same thing. Streams of daydreams drag me down and grow. Routine, where there’s no distraction between the unwholesome and unholy motions of the everyday machine. Fatal feelings are piling upon the fight just to hang on. Then something new will intervene: neurotransmission of molecules reaching receptors to stimulate crucial conversion to simple fuels. Doldrums abate. Climb. Reaching hand over handle, and I’m not sure I’m gonna face my fears in time. And I know the pinnacle of panic’ll be clinical, mechanical, and grow and grow, till I’m buried far below. So I heed the asylum’s call, going anywhere my medicine takes me. And I like the new way it makes me. So I barely despair at all when I fall. From burial and plummeting, the aerial I’m summiting gets tall and wide, and I set my fears aside. If it weren’t for adversity I’d have known I’d never see myself denied. Now I’m feeling my old fatigue, as the uniform boredom rises with the great escape it devises. And my strategies, deep down, are in league. Meds. I’ve been hiding them under the beds. My mind reverses. I’m done with the doctors and nurses. Oh, I don’t need ‘em; I’ve got freedom. I’m ready for a ride. I can see my reflection, and it’s gonna be my guide. Yeah, the winds are shifting, lifting me higher and higher now. I’m riding the rising fire. Now I’m off, I’m on my way. Watch me fly, you can bet I’ll be getting by day to day. Though I know what’s coming, dumbing me down to a medium. I try to defy the tedium. There’s no chance I’ll ever get out of the trance. Why do I try? Life never amounts to anything that counts. And so on I bounce, at a plateau I’d rather renounce. There’s nowhere left to go. I will seek excitement until I fulfill every need. I’ll succeed, then I’ll live the life that I’ve always known I can own. There’s no way in, there’s no time. No way to win. I know I’m no more than a laugh, a joke to the old ha-ha-hospital staff. I knew that I’d fold. So I’ll tuck my tail as I go. I’ll pre-derail. Now I know I’ll fail. I’m feeling victimized, I’m feeling vile. But a little thieving might leave me believing I’m worthwhile. Breaking and entering is my domain. Seems a little stealing might just keep me feeling sane. I’m sinking deeper than I did before. Something isn’t working. Burglary and lurking are a bore. I’m sick of living in the grit and grime, molded by the mildew. That is why I will do more crime. What’s the use? Being built on each excuse turns my guilt on. Thoughts begin their full attack. I give in, I’m going back. So I heed the asylum’s call, going anywhere my medicine takes me. And I like the new way it makes me. So I barely despair at all. But I’m feeling that old fatigue, as the uniform boredom rises with the great escape it devises. And my strategies, deep down, are in league. I’m ready for a ride. I can see my reflection, and it’s gonna be my guide. Yeah, the winds are shifting, lifting me higher and higher now. I’m riding the rising fire. Now I’m off, I’m on my way. Watch me fly, you can bet I’ll be getting by day to day. Though I know what’s coming, dumbing me down to a medium. I try to defy the tedium. Routine, where there’s no distraction between the unwholesome and unwhole emotions of the everyday machine. Fatal feelings are piling upon the fight just to hang on.

We can see past the passel of lies of the fashion-few and their flashy disguise. Just refuse each ruse that the industry tries, and avoid that eye candy branding your eyes. See the perfect people in that ad. They leave you longing for the things you lack. That artificial wish’ll drive you mad. Take another look, and don’t look back. Don’t allow yourself to fall for the big belief that keeps you small. ‘Cause they don’t need a shower, shave, or hairbrush. All they need is just a lot of airbrush. Get a grip before you start to slog through another catalog. Button nose, snappy pose, dressing up some common clothes. Wearing this implicit guarantee, they prey on our biology. We can see past the passel of lies of the fashion-few and their flashy disguise. Disregard those hardbody corporate thighs, and avoid that eye candy branding your eyes. Watch the woman in that diamond gown show off her double-D designer cup, as people pay to lay their money down just to buy a try to measure up. That’s the shit you should ignore. Keep your head instead of keeping score. Seven billion people feel shamed and shoddy ‘cause they don’t have a supermodel body. But it’s time those seven billion knew that only seven people do. Still they stare, unaware, pretending not to care as they all compare. Feeling unattractive and unsure, incomplete and insecure, chronic victims of couture. We can see past the passel of lies of the fashion-few and their flashy disguise. So go and snub that subzero lollipop size, and avoid that eye candy branding your eyes. ‘Cause we can see past the passel of lies of the fashion-few and their flashy disguise. Disregard those hardbody corporate thighs, and refuse each ruse that the industry tries. So go and snub that subzero lollipop size, and avoid that eye candy branding your eyes. ‘Cause we can see past the passel of lies of the fashion-few and their flashy disguise.

Piles of old souvenirs forming walls. Twenty years backed up and down the halls. Miles of junk from a world of bunk, full of flimflam from a scheme or a scam, guide the life of a man taken in. Every plan ends where he's always been plied and played, like the time he paid for that old trash with the promise of cash fast. But the profits did not last. Still, he had a blast. The friends that he met, he would never forget. Now he needs something new to be true, to believe so he can muddle through how he feels when his pain appeals to his proud pose while his happiness grows dim, and everything gets grim, and opportunity seems slim. But just when he's crossed, thinking all is lost, a flyer intrigues him. All those hopes take hold, soon to be sold on this bold new claim, calling out his name: Engines that prove their parts move perpetually, people who swear they're producing their energy free. Earnings will soar. Pay no more electric bills — selling the slack, extra power, back to power mills. "You will be blessed when you invest. Can't go wrong. We'll be your hub, 'cause we're a club with a strong sense of impunity. Look what we've got: one megawatt free and clear, from the machine bringin' the green over here, and over unity. Rake in the dough! We know you know you'll withdraw. So every line you had to sign, that you saw, gives us immunity from the law." They demand more than he planned. It's a different deal than their spiel when he signed up. Bait and switch, no one gets rich, their equipment breaks. So he makes his mind up to ditch. "I call your bluff! I've had enough! I want out! Every excuse that you produce makes me doubt your authenticity. I can't adapt to getting slapped in the face, facing my heart falling apart in disgrace, by your duplicity." "It's not our fault! It's an assault by the grand Government Oil, fighting to foil our command of electricity! You will be blessed when you invest! Oh, no, don't go!" Head down, heading back home to sort and stack mounds of all of the things that he's stored, as he brings more, adding to his hoard. Pounds of gear from his new career in a franchise that was nothing but lies, fears, and false-hearted hopes holding sway. As he mopes down yet another day, tears roll on till his eye is drawn to a sweet sight. Something glossy and bright gleams. A pamphlet of new schemes, even better than it seems. He dares to decree it could easily be the answer to all his dreams.

I’ve been hating this grating commercial world, fingers curled. On my toes, wise to those who stole my soul: human population as a whole. I’ve been casting the blame of my despair with unbridled aim, spiting anyone, anywhere. Becoming consumed till I’m entombed. We’re all doomed as we descend. We’re sold out to the marketplace where all we do is spend a lifetime hunted down by everything we chase. So I hide from the whole facade, afraid that I’m a fraud. But as I look away, I justify the cost. Now there’s no knowing where I am. I’m lost in the exhaust. My whole life is a traffic jam. Here in a world with a plan beginning benignly, fear started taking control, and it’s taken more than its toll. Now I’ve done all I can, and I can finally see, while I rot, that I’m caught. This is not where I ought to be. So I’m seeking a void that I can depart to. Free from the daily decay, hidden far away from the fray. Just a place undestroyed where I can start to feel life anew, able to heal. We need to run from a culture come undone. We’re only fools when we fall for all their rules. We’re the dupes jumping hoops, we are tools. When committing to a society, we’re committing suisociety. When I leave, I arrive. I’m alone. I’m alive. I’m alive. Now I’m in a place where my new life can take the lead. A wild and open space where I own every single thing I’ll ever need. ‘Cause I’ll be living off the land. I build it all by hand, till night comes and I see a trillion stars appear. I watch as my myopia dissolves, and all is clear. I found my own utopia. So it’s just me, my access, and my axe. I live free, but just as I relax I see signs of influx and approach. My front lines exposed as they encroach. First a couple hikers come. Then the mountain bikers come. Seeking recreation here. Taking their vacation here. Runnin’ up and grabbin’ land. Suddenly it’s cabin-land. Slapdash neighborhoods rise up from the woods. Campsites on the verge, second-homes emerge. Now, on top of it all, urban sprawl spreads its glow. No, no, no, no! Soon a new population of that old disease is finding me, and I don’t know how. So I seek medication from the wind and trees, unwinding me. Help me now. Rebound me with your healing. Your gentle rustle unwound me, now I’m reeling. Relentless bustle has found me. People pealing, they try to muscle around me. Speeding, stealing, a constant hustle. My speech will be unceasing, and each beginner I teach will cease the fleecing that wears them thinner. And each will be releasing me as the winner. My reach will keep increasing within the inner fold. I’m gonna be breaking their hold. I’ll face their reign until the war is won. I’ll campaign. And this time when I run, I won’t miss my stride. And, this time, I won’t hide.

Once we squatted, lost, on slaughtered lands. Choking, alone, on the dusty, dead desert sands. Then we learned we could all disobey and watch your regulations wilt away. We spread the seed of bloom and birth as all around us dies. Forsake the face of barren earth, and look to fertile eyes. Now the soil moistens each event. Drunk with the lushest leaves that ever went. Feasting on pieces of the sun till it sets. In this amazing maze, we hedge our bets — and stand and swear a solemn oath to spend our summer sprawl overrun by overgrowth and underneath it all. Can’t we all just get a lawn and let it live its life, watch it grow? Across the sand, our line is drawn, and we’re not gonna take any mow. Can’t we all just get a lawn? Don’t let it get cut down any lower before the day the grass is gone. No, we’re not gonna take any mower. We used to break our banks and backs to make our lawns look nice. Now we lounge, and we relax not even looking twice. No more lawns for you to lynch; our gardens on their guard. At your feet, inch by inch, and spreading yard by yard. Can’t we all just get a lawn? Don’t let it get cut down any lower. Across the sand, our line is drawn, and we’re not gonna take any mower. Can’t we all just get a lawn and let it live its life, watch it grow before the day the grass is gone? No, we’re not gonna take any mow. No mow. No mow. No mow. Can’t we all just (no mow) all get a lawn? No mow. And watch it grow. No mow. Leave us a lawn, and leave us alone. No mow.

Dark woodland night. A tiny little shiny shimmer glowing, glimmer growing, showing through the trees and leaves no traces. Complicating evidence, giving people pause. Day by day the legend grows. Mysterious, grimly daunting, dimly haunting, flaunting in the forest every evening. Everybody’s wondering what could be the cause. Floating over the power lines, something shines. Driving yellow and red aberrations through the night. People flocking from everywhere stop and stare, grasping wildly for explanations to be right. Swamp gas, ghostly souls, UFOs, and antigravity. Theories filled with holes dig an even bigger cavity. Swamp gas, ghostly souls, UFOs, and antigravity. Theories filled with holes dig an even emptier cavity than before. Don’t assume what it’s all about. Whether you believe, or whether you doubt, go and find out. People stand, consorting, reporting what it could be. Twisted lips distorting the truth of what they see. Mystics, ignoring statistics to serve and service their logistics, pursuing their viewing while happily grappling and misconstruing. Miles away: a sprawling line of trawling traffic — linking graphic blinking, winking, with their headlights and their tail lights — innocently, perfectly-pointed photon load. Proven wrong, the people glare. Still pointlessly clinging, crying, stinging, lying, trying to deny the boring answer: ordinary vehicles being on a road. Swamp gas, ghostly souls, UFOs, and antigravity. Theories filled with holes dig an even bigger cavity. Swamp gas, ghostly souls, UFOs, and antigravity. Theories filled with holes dig an even bigger cavity. Swamp gas, ghostly souls, UFOs, and antigravity. Theories filled with holes dig an even emptier cavity than before. Don’t assume what it’s all about. Whether you believe, or whether you doubt, go and find out.

I’ve got a mission. I’ve got a heart condition. Still, I’m gonna spread it; I don’t need an excuse. Why should I bother? I wanna be a father. I want all the credit. I will reproduce. Destiny choosing me. Each little facet, I’m gonna up and pass it down to my descendants to pass each on in turn. And what it does, I don’t really care, because I won’t be in attendance. It’s not my concern. Destiny using me. Hating the fates for the things that we’re not, the closing of the gates pulls the strings of our destiny taut with the traits that it brings to our plot. Genealogy waits in the wings while our bodies rot. Tiny financial burdens become substantial. Too many to list ‘em, each one worse than before. That’s where they’re headed; station has been embedded. All part of the system that I will ignore. Destiny losing me. My limitations over the generations keep everyone there in their inherited place. Fertile and failing, all of my children trailing out into the barren future they must face. Nothing we’ve had in the known little universe helps us to add to our own, so we shout and we curse. Acting bad to the bone till we’re in the hearse. Leaving us sad and alone, and it just gets worse. I’m gonna send my spawn, fulfilling my only goal, spiraling on and on forever out of control. I’ll never know who’s who or what becomes of their lives. I don’t care what they do, and I don’t care who survives. Destiny bending me, ending me. Watching the world go by with every door slamming shut, no matter what they try, their status stays in a rut till they run out of space. No way to win any round. Running the human race, they’ll run it into the ground. Destiny carries me, buries me. Hating the fates for the things that we’re not, the closing of the gates pulls the strings of our destiny taut with the traits that it brings to our plot. Genealogy waits in the wings while our bodies rot. Nothing we’ve had in the known little universe helps us to add to our own, so we shout and we curse. Acting bad to the bone till we’re in the hearse. Leaving us sad and alone, and it just gets worse.

Hey there my confident friend, isn't freedom funny? We can't help but notice you spend all your time and money passing your panicky laws, pulling people under while happily snapping your jaws. And it makes us wonder why you intrude on the lives of adults consenting, when all your intolerant drives are what need preventing. Sell out, compromise, hacking each human right down to size. Trespass, intervene, shut your eyes to what you've never seen. You hold your head high as the grand standard and judge their lives by how they've meandered. Laugh as you lunge down from your high morals, wearing the proud crown of your cold laurels. Sticking your ignorant nose where it isn't wanted, well, you and your need to impose carry on undaunted. Desperate to sever the stem of your irritation, expending your breath to condemn an entire nation. Self-help suicide, stuff that society never tried. Dictate what they do, soon it will all fall back onto you. Strike with the slick twist of a sly viper. Train down your long list like a mad sniper. But when you take aim through the long ages, you'll find your own name in the same pages. You rage to wage and win the war on people on drugs. Stacking their decks, behaving like a moron. Pulling their plugs for having sex and things they choose to do in private. Break down their doors. What will you find? You never will survive it. Winning the wars, losing your mind. Raging and waging your wars, acting like a moron, you bang up and break down the doors, as you wage your war on. Pulling the plugs on the things that they do in private, you savor the silence it brings, but you won't survive it. Dutifully dealing the blows from the decks you're stacking, creating your cages for those that you keep attacking. You rage to wage and win the war on people on drugs. Stacking their decks, behaving like a moron. Pulling their plugs for having sex and things they choose to do in private. Break down their doors. What will you find? You never will survive it. Winning the wars, losing your mind. Done dealing with the decks you're stacking, people will rise. Your life descends, and still you keep attacking. Still, you despise. It never ends. Hey there my confident friend, isn't freedom funny? We can't help but notice you spend all your time and money passing your panicky laws, pulling people under while happily snapping your jaws. And it makes us wonder why.