thank god i'm married
it would all be too easy if i weren’t
and in the end, too boring

ironic when you consider
that marriage is a still life
with the paint flaking off

but when you're alone
it all breaks down

marriage is like college
you're not sure it's necessary
but if you don't go
you feel like you missed something

and the truth is, my bride
i would have missed everything
without you

it’s a big country and a bigger world
there’s arguments for and against everything
one man’s meat is another man’s mcdonalds
for all the bibles of opinion and encyclopedias of conjecture
the citizens see what they want to see
a boy looks in the mirror and sees a hero
that’s what the president sees in the mirror too
then he sends in the marines and builds a library
if the poor believe the rich are crushing them
every bill is a boot
if the rich are afraid the poor want to **** in their pie
they’ll taste dooky
the horndog sees a summer oasis of mermaids
swimming towards him
it’s a big country and a bigger world
and the citizens see what they want to see

intelligence = pattern recognition
you’re intelligent to the degree
you perceive patterns
i’ve always believed that
but now i realize
patterns recognize patterns
they corrupt each other
it’s 2 a.m. and patterns diagnose me
they’re nodding to me across the bar
is it my imagination
or do patterns laugh at my simplicity
then stumble off in search of **** complexity
before last call?

the rib dinner with your wife
the cuddle with your daughter
watching tremors with your son
that show you did at sonny’s
rereading wonder boys
the night you were ****** up on ludes with your poet friends
dropping glasses off the table to torture the waitress
these were the peak and you enjoyed it all
you just didn’t realize it was the best it would be
the best it COULD be
you didn’t miss the moment
you just didn’t recognize what you were seeing
you think it’s all-you-can-eat
but the buffet runs out
you think there’s always more
and there isn’t
but there is this

when you have the blues
when you lost something
you’re never gonna find again
you might have the inspiration
to write a sad song
but why would you ever sing it?

my coworkers bristle
when i say i’m a poet and composer
and that slaving in a hospital is just a hobby
"no," they insist, "the hospital is your PROFESSION
music and writing are just HOBBIES"
ok
so for vincent van gogh
he who never sold a canvas
painting was a hobby?

the supergenius' race-baiting strategy
is gonna bite him in the ***
his base (in every fragrance of the word)
will still boogie down with its war-dance
but he's gonna motivate a lot of people
to put a brake on the fascism

things didn't end well for mussolini