I stir the ***, and if we let it stir, it’ll all burn
If I don’t throw a jab, you’ll never learn
Make my stomach churn with your anti-Human ways, you spit in my face and make me cease
I throw one more jab, and you call the police

Come on and test me once more
I’ll out the B-Bomb I’ll out the B-Bomb
I’ll out the B-Bomb I’ll out the B-Bomb
Just once more, and I’ll blow you away
The B-Bomb always stays

I’m down to Earth, so I guess I’ve gone to Hell, and they sent me my victories from the sky
Just once more and I’ll blow you away
I’ve got the B-bomb B-bomb B-bomb
Don’t call me bud, I’m not your bud, Bud
That’s my grand-daddy’s name

I’ll blow you away with my B-bomb
I’ll blow this Kingdom away with my B-Bomb
Cause God is just a dog barking in the heads of the people

I promise I'll be on my best behavior
But I hear a thing calling me for the keys
As lofty as I try, they drop into oblivion
Serious, I better come back to inhibit
The picture opens up sideways
And they single me out like a crusty chutzpah
The peeling pages ffffffffffffff nnnn
Coccinellidae attacks his family grave light
A nod to the growling and glistening moray next to me
He is big, and he is covered in my spit -- I tell him one
Find a better party whose postponed

When I had fallen off the horse,
I could say it was a blur, a blur of a thousand drinks
A blur of two lost lovers holding hands,
LOst my beer in the sand,
She lost her man

Cause I'm a drunk,
and nowadays country music sounds so hurt!
it seems as though
it seems as though
it seems as though
The horse kicked me good

Drunken flashback to the summercamp,
We're talking and laughing under the sun
You smile at me, it's just like country!

Cause I'm a drunk,
and nowadays country music sounds so hurt!
it seems as though
it seems as though
it seems as though
The horse kicked me good

Fast forward to me being a drunk,
I only hear rap-country on my *** walkman cassette
Where is the country and where is my beer, it's all messed up
I can say I've missed the Country Western Days,
I can say I've missed it

Guess I gotta find out who I want to be
But you know it’s a lie when they say you’ll know what to do
At the age of twenty three
In the next twenty years I’ll just be another John to the corporate ******
Hell, I’m already am, but just still half-awake
Dependant on the food and drugs, and the Ministry’s shortcake
Find out who I gotta be before I’m dragged down the Gov't pie-hole
Guess who I am right now, just a sad and confused *******

Bounded by all of whom guide me
Guess who I am guess who I am
Bounded by all of whom guide me
Guess who I am guess who I am
Bounded by love and its bounty
Guess whom they are

Today’s the day, today’s the day, I call in sick
Give myself a warm bath and play with my ****
It’s called “stimulating”, to those who don’t know or don’t feel
Give myself another twenty years, and I’ll have nothing to play with
But bare with me, there’s still time, there’s still a chance; some kind of retribution
I grab my Phillips, and shave her down to the woods, an open landscape
I’m an open book now, and I’m singing to myself as I go against the grain,
I punch in the info, stroke my finger down the list, ask who's to blame
Eureka

Bounded by all of whom guide me
Guess who I am guess who I am
Bounded by all of whom guide me
Guess who I am guess who I am
Bounded by love and its bounty
Guess whom they are

Today’s the day, and so I grab my pliers and duct tape
My hunting knife, my hunting bow, my hunting clothes
Dressed for the ****, but smiling like the loonies who broke into the Whitehouse
Today’s the day, a redemption song, I found me a ****** to lynch
And I found me a ****** to shoot, as I say goodbye cruel world
Hallelujah, God bless my sick little show
Caught me a tiger by the toe
And if he hollers, I’ll let him croak
Onto the next one, I’ll make him choke

This is who I am

the victims come forth, the victims stand down; the innocence shamed and shunned, and the rapists come out from the shadows with some who still linger behind in their menacing twilight.
the actions are irreversible; so the complaints do nothing, and the consequences are a careless wave of a hand

The place of dreams and destruction; of the glamour and grotesque
Hollywoodland is a deep, dark secret in disguise

I walk in a Government-official building, I know that there are Free Masons scheming below the ground floors, and pulling the strings from above, watching us below

Monsters with masks at rich celebrity house parties behaving the way a mentally balanced society would deem atrocious. Let's wait and see who else is going to come out from the shadows.

My crystal ball of burden connects with the ecliptical space rod
igniting the spirit within, and I breathe tiny specks of sparkling dust, I wince and I get better, a battle I did not win.

Bats fly quietly past my head
There's a commotion idly playing in the far distance
Under my moving bed

Two green tunnels open wide
My hands shift, separate and attach elsewhere
As I spiral down the ride

A soft coating of relief
I swell in and out of both hell and limbo
A razor blade motion to the throat

I give to my own reflection
A red smiling geyser with pin-sized eyes
Blue dread with little hope that sinks low

**The days get further as I swallow nothing
but lumps of dry, flakey air

I've been walking past the same dinosaur ******* a dozen times and it doesn't bother me. What bothers me though, is the threatening message that is faded and smudged out in the bathroom's handicapped stall. I can barely read it saying "Carl something, I will find where you live something something. Above the message reads a cryptic proposition: 416-818-9120 Jay. What kinda sick fun could the number propose.

As I walk out I see the extinctee's gaping cavity release nutrients for the thirteenth time. I feel like someone important in some kind of cerebral movie; especially the fact that I've found a newly discovered purpose in my life. As well the clothes they have given me add a prominence of flare and swagger. My friend catches up to me asking about something, I don't really hear him. I find a pay phone and punch in the digits. The phone rings but no answer. Disappointed, I walk away, but the phone then rings. I pick it up and hear only heavy breathing. I don't know what to say. I say nothing.

He then says: "This is Jay."

He spares me the details and he or she tells me to meet him at the Slovenian BLED HALL.

"What's there?"

Click . . . I ruffage through my bag for a change of clothes, I don't know why -- a muscle shirt and sweat pants with lobsters and oranges on them. I leave the duffle bag. My friend and I jump in the car and pin it.

On arrival, I see a dirt path that leads us to a white church in  the middle of a stray field. The paint is chipped off from harsh weather, windows are smashed, and brown is smeared on the front porch.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this" my friend says.

I ignore him. I walk up the sticky steps and open the creaky entrance door. The room is filled entirely with candles, ceremonial red paint cover the walls, and my friend has only a bad feeling about all of this. He wants to leave.

"You shall not leave" the voice of Jay echoes.

"Who is that?"

"I summoned you. You shall not ask any questions, and you shall not leave. You with the pants. I want you to undress your friend."

My heart sinks. I have no choice. I feel a dozen other men staring at me behind the darkness, their daggers pointing rock hard at me. I feel like I'm in a gay ***** film now. My friend starts to sob as I undress him. Shut up, you'll be fine. He is shaking, his mind in shock. The cauldron bubbles at the end of the room. I know what must be done.

We both stare down at the scolding hot ***. He's literally begging me to change his mind and it really gets on my nerves. I throw him in head first. His scrawny legs dangle upwards. He pops out, holding his burning face, his guttural screams echoe the chamber. One of the men hands me their dagger. With one swift and easy motion, I slit his throat. His body descends, his life no longer a struggle, he is now simply being cooked. I hope these guys don't try to **** me.

You are free once you are stripped of your privilges. You can see after your time in the darkness. With a piece of mind you can still find the time to enjoy the heavy rain on flat ground. See the aged and delicate swim with their pink umbrella. See how the dog is still tied firmly to his leash. But not held captive to the things you mistake as luxury. The sonic boom will wake you from misery. The company owns both friends and foes and all that stand in between so meaningless and futile. Sharp smiles, the dollar rises. But murky bodies forgotten, float down the Nile.

I jump out of bed to the sound of my father's wake-up call. I was just playing a very important game in one of my stupid, meaningless dreams. My head spins downward in a still drug induced motion. Lora had been with me last night, which had helped me sleep. I run downstairs as Downers always tend to sustain my energy. My lunch is packed and I belch up some of my Gatorade I had already drank. I can feel a reassuring burn in my throat that tells me "Today is another day." Father asks about when I'm getting my tonsils removed and I tell him, and he says "It's good you know. Just get it over with." Yeah, that's what I'm doing; getting the **** over with and done, I get it." I come into work and I see orange foamy **** on the ground that smells like *****. What a **** job I got myself into. And the kid that works with me is a ******* four eyed *****. He stares blankly at me, never hearing what I say. "Looks like antiseptic." He responds, "What?" I walk away and get to work and think about the Fiorinal I am going eat. I go to the bathroom and take two with my Gatorade and then wash back another two. I take Franky out to the field, and he's chortling and having a real fit. I tell him to shut the **** up. I also let him know how much of a **** he is. My head feels loose and my body feels light. But it's still a mundane kind of high which is ****** to cope with such a mundane, life-******* job. So I take three more. Franky starts spinning in circles like a two ton child waiting in line for pizza day at school. Franky's nihilistic values and unruly behaviour has been a total ******* hassle to me. I've heard he's bucked and killed three people so far. So I feed him some of my Fiorinal; about 300 milligrams. I kick the ****** in his paddock and he runs off to harass the others. My head is throbbing nicely and my center is igniting with a sunlight feeling. I see Franky out there gradually falling under the spell. He then keels over; lopsided like a fat bag of flour breathing heavily with a dry cough. I give him a peanut butter sandwich as a method to resuscitate. He cranes his neck from his idle position and eats the sandwich. It turns out there was another 300 milligrams concealed within the sandwich. I walk away as I eat four more pills. I'm good but not good enough. The kid that I’m working with is still sweeping the hallway. The mundane procedure erases his reality into some meaningless nightmare. He then looks up to me and asks "What's wrong with Franky?" I tell him to shut the **** up and get back to work; "And work better while you're at it." I knew about the pills in the sandwich cause I put them in there for Franky. What I didn't know was that Franky was allergic to peanut. I see him out there, spread eagle with his belly touching the ground. I go “****!” and eat another dozen-something pills in response to the distress. The kid asks what I’m eating and I barely hear him and then I think about burning down his stupid church so there is no excuse for him to miss every other Sunday’s work when I got better **** to do. Then I think about the pain in my stomach and the blood I taste from somewhere. And as I’m running to help Franky, I think that he will be fine; he’s lying on his stomach. Usually when they are dead they are lying on their backs. When I come up close to him, his large red eyes see only death. I feel something raw and smooshy in my underpants. I must have soiled myself unknowingly. He’s still breathing, that’s good. My body and mind do not feel intact and everywhere I try to open up my closed eyes, the peephole becomes smaller and smaller and smaller. I smell like ****. Was it the pills? Was it the store-bought stuffed peppers I ate last night while playing solitaire? I think of its oily texture and merciless burn which only causes more stomachache and diarrhea. I’m now lying next to Franky. His struggle to live is sad and pathetic. I close my eyes thinking: respiratory depression. I start to cry. I hear the ambulance. I open up and I see Franky’s eyes frozen directly at me; as if he knew I killed him. He is stiff, heartless and somewhat waxy. He looks like he should be on display in the Kremlin. What separates between us now is the coagulate sandwich that smells like stomach juices. I don’t know if it’s mine or Franky’s. “Are you alright?” someone asks. I can’t respond; there is no energy. I’m sure it’s the paramedic. Now Franky’s owner races through and steps over me and onto the coagulate sandwich which goes Sshjerp! Tears stream down her puffy ***** face and starts consoling to the dead animal in a very sick, twisted kinda way. She goes back and forth from talking to him and then yelling at me. “You did this! It’s all your fault! You can go rot!” I’m half conscious and I have an oxygen mask strapped over my mouth and I’m humming one of my favourite songs, thinking about how delightful it is to be alive whilst the ***** still points her gross, fat fingers in my face. “Say goodbye to your twenty thousand dollars, sweetheart.” The twenty thousand ******* dollars you had spent every ounce of energy to maintain and keep alive.

You're all fools, you know I'm right
You just don't wanna see it
You don't wanna deal with it

You tainted my beer, painted my name
A new colour of thinking

Outrageous codswallop
Infamous gossip
Destructive worship

I don't struggle to sit on the outside
Just to melt in the rain
I have a tolerance
I have a conscience
I have a condition

You're all fools, and you know that I'm right
If you don't believe me then just read my
Holy scroll that rests atop
The mountain of Timbuktu

You'll spit a taste so vile
Villainous beliefs, total nonsense

But I'm a copper skinned fool
Who thinks for himself
Deal with it

You go on keep reading the ****
From the Masses
Hope it's a hit
You mindless tail
Swinging off a
Gutless *****

crumpled ticket in the pocket with no time on the dime dim lightning struck breaking in the best of kin a win win i cant do this tear slice shred swear it's a shame no sweat but fame the pressure builds up bogey blue bragster's mother-finnicky ******* **** ive found it ive found im hidden im hidden the gem's locked away rub one rub one rub one tug one tug one tug on zing we have a winner the shadow is cast the stars are alligned which match my eyes liquid pouring down fast on down the runway time to fly and catch the sky my time's not wasted but im wasted space look at me try try cry no river no stream no end just the fairly odd lookalike best of kin coddling crast dancing jigalow on the gallows pole

why are you always mean to me when im not around
can't you see really that im just a clown

because im lost, im a lost cause
and you cant find me home

I'm called crazy but I just sit back and watch the act
The shot to the mouth is the sign of a hostile compromise
A sick twisted envy broadcasts deception into the pit of my stomach
It boils with hot gastric sincerity
A slow linger of anxious bog settled with indecency
The attention craving singulars throw me into the fiery pit
Almost composed, I dread my held patience with a static vein stemming out of my lobe
Unwanted friends stir me into ambivalence
The devil tells me to ridicule their faults and flaws, alike my fully functional conscience
It's hard to see my bigger person but he's there with his list, shaking his head and telling me I am right
Brimming with rage I am told to reveal their ugliness; strip them down to their flesh and bones with a wax Carver and humiliate the vulnerable ego, which coexists in every living, breathing and selfish waste
To ask how it feels​ now is an enduring moment for them and their self-interested pursuits
They are now feeling from me and not from themselves
They are drawn into a self pity I had handed to them; treated as a raw strange delicacy
The ******* can all shrivel into their newly pivotal grave
My one and only lesson I favour to give to those shrivelled, now-benign *******; to them a ****** so unfaithful and sacraliged​, it is the most unbearably important stake in the heart that they have learned

Scraping the dead frog with my shoe against the grit
I'm laughing and you're screaming no

This is how it is and this is how it ends
So let's **** it up and make the world a better place for us

Let's spew  the devil's words to the sour crass people
And our grains of sand fall down the hour glass
Let's ******* waste them, let's spill their guts

You've recovered from your subway *****
Let's do it all over again shall we?

Let's play hair gumball on the spiders' large jello sac morphing
Into convex pudding

Smack the sac pinata smack the living
**** out of the blobbing annex

Chit chat shallow shat and we're alright
Kissing bark while you give me a lecture and I'm thrilled then
And now I see the forest's hunchback hissing at us to
GET OUT

No more wise-*** **** but just one more errand though
And so, we leave a cartoon death threat at his door step

We were walking around at night. We came across these apartment buildings. We broke into one of the ground floor tenants. This guy and girl broke in from an outside patio; a real nice metallic fence on the patio with intricate shape patterns. So I wait around the building and then I hear banging from the window. It sounded dreadful. I ran away, scared. They're probably dead because the banging was so forceful and frantic and urgent. I run back to my own apartment. I live on the highest floor. I take the elevator, and as I get out I walk past K. He says "Hi" to me. He goes into the elevator I was just in. He leaves. Something is not right. I walk into my room to find clothes lying on my bed. These were the clothes of my friends. I now see the flashing blue and red lights outside. The police cars are outside. They have surrounded me. My friends have been ***** and murdered. I see a black car pulling out of the parking lot. K is driving off into the distance.

I should never trust K.

(Puh)

“The power to perceive something impossible persuades me. I must pick a place.” The Clairvoyant Gulch.

This person pounds the ground with persistence. A penchant to procreate perception. The Clairvoyant Gulch.

Passing away into peach fuzz and polyandry. Pretty Polly plans to participate in the process. The Clairvoyant Gulch.

Princess Penelope ****** on Polly. Paczki the predator penetrates the preposterous Polly.
The Clairvoyant Gulch.

The President of the Polyandry Psychics proposes: let Polly go but only with the presentation.
The Clairvoyant Gulch.

The Polyandry People peer and pry for what will Polly present. The poor prissy presents her *****. The Clairvoyant Gulch.

She placidly plucks the ***** to pay the People. But she then panics and pours pomegranate red over a ***. The Clairvoyant Gulch.

The *** then becomes an urn so precious that the People pray. Polly feels penitent of her peccadillo. The Clairvoyant Gulch.

The President points to the urn. Paczki the predator places ingredients into the ***: pig’s tail, pesto and plantar’s wart. The Clairvoyant Gulch.

The Polyanderthals round about and puke into the ***. Polly prepares a peyote dish that will pause time. The Clairvoyant Gulch.

The President and People consume the ***. It tastes vile and profane, they puke again. The Clairvoyant Gulch.

The Polyantherhals turn around to find Polly unpresent. They **** and pant in confused anger. The Clairvoyant Gulch.

Polly is passing the time, possessing a power within the Earth’s core. Her polyethylene pants protect her from the core’s melting point. The Clairvoyant Gulch.

As for the People, it was not practical for them to be presented such profane magic. Their perception of the universal paradigm had been inverted in perpetuum. The Clairvoyant Gulch.

As for the Polyanderthalic *** of ****** pomegranate juice, the President sold the item through Paypal to a polyandry professor living in Piccadilly. The People never practiced polyandry in perpetuum. Ever again.

~The Clairvoyant Gulch

There is no such thing as freedom because you can play God
because he only pretends to sit in his sofa castle
laughing at your foolishness
eating your baby noodles

Anyone can play this game but I won't stand for it
because spilling their guts makes it criminal
because it makes me liberal
like it's all okay

Their cynical smirks and superior rationale
burn me alive into a ******* Charleston
I curse them all and **** them all
and I am ****** for it

Words of evil percieved only as evil by the weak
because killing and ****** is a neccessity
a demand for destiny which the world stages
it's freedom for all but the just

I know I know nothing unlike all the other pigs
they can cheer and chortle because they're boxed in their world
epileptic to my hare-ful truth that means nothing
because I am an ignoramus who is free

To the glamour dressed diesel alcoholic
to the giraffe-wearing radicalist
to the artistocratic plum-picking *******
to the uneducated, ****-smoking secretary
to the briefless, cold-handed ******
to the green-spiked punk with a polarized attitude
to the one who sent nukes overseas to G**bless other countries
I pity your concealment; your pathetic, two-dimensional box

For I know nothing, so when you find me
Sit me down, and shoot me in the ******* head
Because you wish you had nothing like me

So find me and burn me on the stake
Huff the audacity my smoking flesh omits
Breed your Reptilian filth over my dead body

You look above
You see yourself that way
I am a pawn and you are Walt Disney
You see yourself above

You are that way
The kind of idealist
Who marches with ego
Who stutters with pride

I stand above you
But you hit me
I can't stand it
But my tongue is held

I'll strangle you
In the sink
In a neck choke
I'll bash your pudgy brain
Smash your ******* face
Smash your ******* mouth
With my fiery embrace
Sounds good ****-face?

I'll make you a better person <3

The fat moody Frenchman stumbles the sidewalk
My vulture eyes glare
I say sometimes you're alright, yeah you are
My skin is fair
The preppy striped clothes stained with tar
You are nice and dark
I say sometimes, I wish I was you
You're in heat, you can't think straight
I say the wine is good but your company is okay
But let's stay, let's have a play date
For **** sakes!

A colourful explosion in the sky. It suspends, it falls and then hits the night water. A civilian fishing by the dock is surrendered to its beauty until he is surprised by a green limb that floats up to the surface

Nothing is funny at five
Don't test me I'll find a way to make you cry
The ***** is in the soup but you can only taste the bitter parts
Shush your pretty ******* mouth, I'll mouth you off till your heart beets red
I'll send the green handed money men to rub their juices onto you
They're very rich but will make you poor
Your face is a caked home for all their bacteria which lives comfortably at room temperature like you
I am so very frustrated that I'm depressed into a soggy grey pancake
But I am convinced otherwise, so I say what a fun game this is
I smile and twirl my mustache with my sticky green juice fingers as you feverishly release fluids in a quivering animation
From just looking at me, you  can read my mind and you know very well how much I hate your trivial lifestyle with those big, useless idle creatures and how you're "traditional and religious" and how you believe everything is okay
When you die, God will ******* and your life will then end
Your family prays that my words won't **** you but your alienated brother is living on the streets with poppyseed chills running down his crippling spine
It's like he doesn't exist
And it's too late for me because you're calling for bad weather
I'm in your begrudgingly deep **** hole if my landing is safe so let's hope the parachute doesn't open
Just calm down and let me imagine myself rolled into a ball naked, and the room is covered in wires; on the ceiling, on the floor, on the walls, all covered in wires
They can hear me, the room is ******* tapped, they can hear me
Talking to you

You better be thankful
Because no other day you would be

A dozen blue orbs visible from my view
A phenomenon of fear and fascination
As I was just riding along, the glowing moons had put me to stop
The night sky shot streaks of blue light down at the earth
It is too early for me not to live, I must live
It is undeserving and unfair to be struck by this phenomenon
The other planets hate us, so we must come to an end

Silver and gold
To save our souls
To save us from the debt
To save us from their pain-staking agenda

Silver and gold
I don't want it anymore
Faces on the coin I resent
All their pride lost in the national anthem

Conniving tella-tubby ****-head cuntbrain
Stupid fat cuntbrain who bleeds out seminal lies,
I'll bleed you, a new **** in your brain
My knife in your ******* head

Passing tears
All behind me
Passing tears
No more surrounding
It's ******* queer
How they tell me
That passing tears
Will deny me

We're passing tears
But the dead
Don't
Know

We travel around
Waiting for the ground
Close your eyes
No more sound
Deafened from death
To hear life
One last breathe
And now we know

They're passing tears
But the dead
Don't
Know

You walk their walk
A disguise only I can see you in
You stalk their walk
You blend in like the sun on the moon
But I can see you

As they weep, you weep
As you smile inside thinking how clever you are, I'm behind you with my radar gun

I will blow you to smithereens,
A confetti exposure that shows your true ugliness
The naive will learn of your sick talent

Be like who ever , whatever your goal maybe
When you fabricate yourself to the next circle, I'll be standing right beside you, taking note, blushing within, **wishing I was you.

Scratch the itch
You start to slip
Drawn into whatever
They tune you in

There's only a few
Like you, they know
But you're paying them
For ignored lies

You're just cattle
Waiting in line
Condemned a thinker
And you don't even have the wit to act

**The cynic is strong. But the cynic is weak.
The cynic is strong. But the cynic is weak.
Vibrating neurotically in the vacuum of tyranny. Let the animal out of his cage.

Stray dog bites the fleas & barks at the buzzard voice with no decision but to wait for the next gesture. Jester can't see why he's lost the leash but the owner is found better now -- much more tamed for an eternal suffering; it's no longer a frothing mouth full of the doomsday within. Barks at the bees, and they shine their stingers; they are karmic bullets of love from a sensitive ghost with no reserve. reserve. He is not there. you put him under the sink , in the disinfectant bucket; you can't cure his rocket fuel habits, but you can pretend he isn't there.

The tick behind your ear isn't going to bring you happiness.