Reanimate the dead air
But not with mindless banter
Blither blather
Comprised of
Contradicting compromises
Less is more
More or less
That's more like it
Your'e just a statistic
There's always room for improvement
Your'e only human
An ectomorph waving a white flag
A mesomorph crying "SOS"
And endomorph in the shallow end experiencing the ripple effect

It's a white world
White washed
Yup
You need a strategy
To win this raffle
So you can win a chance to rub elbows with the ****** upper crust busybodies-chatter boxes
It's  win win
A win lose
In all its forthcoming splendor
Enhance your station
You spineless jellyfish
Taking your work home with you
Giving yourself scoliosis
Bending over backwards
Looking for something to depend on
A fallback anchor
You're in the hot spot
You cold sore
It's an inside job
You canker sore

I found the rat-fink bound at the whipping post
I found the ****** at the hitching post
I'm the one itching to go
Find me at the scratching post
Chomping at the bit
Chipping off the splintered wood on a telephone post  

Get me out of this stockade
Put me in the guillotine
Because I'm out of my head
And I'm going off
Bombard you with simple truths
You know it isn't all it's cracked up to be
If it's too good to be true
You've forced my hand
Now I gotta be uncouth
Something I gotta come to terms with
Something I gotta come to grips with

Looking back at my formative years
With the world I lived in hot on my heels
The celibate dust collectors
The abstinent hypoglycemic meat puppets
I was on cue
My cue to calibrate my own gumption
Bounced off the wall
Put on parole
Used my reserved rights to exercise my rights
To put my foot in the door and leave it a jar
While I stuck my hands in the cookie jar
But I guess there is such a thing as too much of a good thing
Become an over night success
Being famous for being famous
That whole scenario's played out
So mind your P's and Q's
I'll ask you point blank
Do you think you're ingenious?
Prodigious?
Are you in that proverbial extravaganza?
Collecting blood diamonds
Enunciation silent letters
That say all that need be said
Sent through the Pony Express
Written in an acrostic anagram
She'll answer with palindrome acronym in a Pig Latin
And she's right
In some aspect
To a certain point
To some degree
She sheds light
In some right

Forever in debt to the price to survive
Forever seems like such a long time
Forever damaging stubborn pride
Forever giving out bad advice

Nothing is absolute
And there are countless variables thrown into the mix
Do your best to simplify
Search for those high exponents to bring your base to a better place
No need for negativity
Times can get adverse and even inverse
But you must remain in power as an integer
There is no substitute for you
Distribute some of your positiveness
To all groupings of coefficients
And their properties
You have yet to reach your prime, but you will

Everyday you live is another social experiment
Live it with a grateful attitude
Gratitude
Play it by ear
Off the top of your head
Read the unwritten laws
And hear to the unspoken rules
Fair warning, they'll ask you to take sides
They'll take advantage of any soft spot they can find
People's lethal libidos
Off base orchestrations
Driving you up the wall
Repeating louder to instill their point
Tight knit cliques of fashion victims
Clever spoonerisms
Brutal braggarts
Do not let them get the best of you
With their slurred words
And blurred vision
I tell you this in confidence
You will have the last laugh and the last word
I know the past makes you tense
But if it's not your policy it's not your problem
Legend has it, time keeps you waiting
For your metamorphosis
To become your peacemaker
       -Tommy Johnson

The Patron Saint of Saturday morning cartoons  and The Patriot have died
They've died from patron-hate
We've come to pay our respects and show our patronage
We give the quarters we hid behind our ears for all these years

People go up to their friend, The Saving Grace
Saying, "I'm sorry for your loss"
And she deadpan replies, "Why? Did you do it?"
She was funny like that

All the people coming out of the woodwork
Who knew it was just a matter of time for these two to finally kick the bucket
No bones about it
It's just the luck of the draw
All the mourners come to talk about the two stiffs in the coffins
"IT WAS MY FAULT I WASN'T THERE!" cried The Merchant
"Don't be so ******* yourself" I said trying to comfort him
But I knew in the back of my mind that this guy was reading off cue cards and had such a hard-on for himself
Matter of fact, this caterwauling fool knocked everything The Patron Saint of Saturday morning cartoons stood for with out even trying to understand

"No taxation with out representation gives one a bad reputation"

The Patriot loved drawing baths, stipple dotting, still lives
Always paid out of pocket for the supplies

The best piece of advice he had given me was
"Cheesy stereotypes are just truths that were left out to age and gain a powerful smell we try to avoid because we can never face it"

The Signer and The Co-Signer went off on a tangent in the middle of the whole thing, I think they were having a war flashback or something

"Metaphorical formalities
Formulaic manic depressive
Compulsive obsessive
Metaphysical
Fairly impressive!"

These two were friends of The Patriot during his times at The O.K. Corral
They we're buried in Potter's field
The only two headstones in the whole place

The Patron Saint's read, "Stick & stones may break my bones but boards don't hit back"
And the Patriot's read, "Write me up, write me off, write this down, right on"

       -Tommy Johnson

My finger's on the fritz
On your door step, ding **** ditch
In that frame of mind during that time frame
Spewing gibberish
Sirens blare
Attention ****** with ulterior motives
Pick up the gauntlet
Surpass the bar raisers that got too big for their britches
Face the predicament with courage
Trot through the bible belt
Sort out the sugar coated *******
That right state of mind and the right time period
Attached at the hip
Tip top, ship shape
I see all the old tricks in the book
I smile and put it back on the shelf
I got a new one, don't look
For my eyes only, keeping this for myself
Withheld from the industrial fans, investors, blood ******* insects
At a loss for words
What you see is what you get
You get what you get and you don't get upset
But give what you get
So get going
With your selective hearing
And your selective memory
Do it for the down trodden
Don't settle for the consolation prize
Drum roll please
      -Tommy Johnson

Heaven forsakes
Pry it out
With the jaws of life
Off the handle and on the rag

Off the ***, on the needle
Off the record
On the clock, in the fetal position
Lights off, in the dark
Talking to myself
My Jerry-rigged heart
Jot down the notes
Under attack
And come out on top

I trust you kid
Like a rusty bridge
Was the fight fair or fixed?
It was one sided
Took a dive
Nose dive
The plummet
Sky falling
For a ha' penny

Dish it out if you can take it
Make it from scratch
Get off the fence
Out of the space
Between that rock
And that hard place
Go for broke
It's vintage
It's retro
You're pressed for time
Towel's thrown
Crickets chirp

Water it down
Dumb it down
Put it down
Throw down