men are singing in my head singing lyrics of tim minchin with me

you see they will play this music singing with me saying it is my body

and i live in it, it’s 7 parts  skin and 13 parts water and the men are

laughing with me saying it’s my body and i live in it

you see despite us partying and vomiting blood yeah

you see it is my body and it’s fine, ya see i fill it completely with wine

and i live in the dark side and every man was saying yeah your cool

just like this singer tim minchin, he is so radical, dude

i can have a dark side i can have a dark side, i can have a dark side

2 poofs and 300 virgins, well the men are probably saying to me, tim minchin sux

but i think tim min chin rules, dudes

i think that tim minchin is radically awesome dude, you see the men are singing tim minchin

with me, because i am still a family person, and it’s true i am a family person

i wrote a letter to yin din olin and he told me i was the worst person i have ever met

then the men said, tim minchin is cool man and i said, yeah he is

and this is my earth and i am proud of it

i walk around the earth picking up ***** off shoes

and then i use turpentine to squeeze all the hooligan out of me

but i know it’s hard oh it can be mighty hard, dad never became involved with my sports when i was a kid

he made it up to me as an adult, but i was always a pure cool family person, he didn’t understand me

i liked playing basketball, i liked playing ten pin bowling, it made me feel like cool guy

you see i feel comfortable with the men who like heavy metal or tim minchin like when

i listen to him all the men say to me ummmmm you are cool, ummmmmm you are cool

you are going to live in paradise, with a 10 ft **** and a few hundred virgins

i hate people who don’t give money to the poor, but i don’t want to call them ***** because

i always believe in hard work, even if it is hard work cleaning my brain out

you see we are sticking a ***** up ya **** while tim min chin is singing it, and of course we feel cool

i tim minchin, he reminds me of fun and games with the young dudes

you see i was looking for a way to bring that atmosphere back, and tim brings it to me

my dad doesn’t understand what kind of cool kid i was trying to be like

tim is singing the good book, the good book is the best song, i like tim minchin

i am writing my old body out of me, but i am a person not a robot

a person who likes tim minchin

you see i liked daddy, he was a nice person on the couch, but dad to me in the 80s was a couch daddy

but i had to yell at him to get him to treat me like a family person, ya see i was teasing dad when

i was saying i was a hooligan, just a tease don’t ya know

i was teasing dad when i said, i wanna stab ya in the back

because i wanted heavy medallists to be men for me, NOT DAD, well, back then anyway

because, i believed in being cool, and i got vibes from dad, he didn’t wanna be cool

so i hear all the men singing with me, each song tim sang

ya know each song he sang,

dads wasn’t perfect, but buddha said love thy father

because you only get one and when he goes

i was going completely crazy, listening to tim minchin’s really cool music

and the men are laughing and joking with me, as i listen to the great tim minchin

ya see, there was so much i never told dad, and now it’s too late

because all the ladies in the house come on let me hear ya say ayoh ayoh

all the fellas in the house RAIDERS SUX, RAIDERS SUX

all the conservos in the house say MONEY MONEY MONEY

all the poor people in the house say WHERE IS OUR FUCKEN LOOT YA ******’ ******

i like the bearded men talking to me when i listen to tim, because he is totally radical dude

i am not discussed by the time in the 90s where all my personalities split out of my bodies

so i can choose what personality i take with me, i love heavy metal, so i sing heavy metal with those nice australian men

you see i hear voices of people saying i am someone people hate, but i want to be someone people like

i don’t want to sing heavy metal with dad, his next life betty campbell, will be in a different generation to me

the fad generation was dads, not mine, and i sang a song

not a dime, i cannot pay my rent

i can barely make it through the week

it’s saturday night, and it’s PARTY night

and i can meet a girl

but i struggle to make my ends meet

i am listening to tim minchin every day

he is totally radical dude

i feel i am in a cranky mood, but really i am in a happy mood yeah

happy like brian allan, and i am not a loser who takes drugs to get me by

i have no problem with people who take drugs, just respect my view that i don’t like taking drugs

the raiders sux, because the bulldogs beat them 41 to 34, and the swans beat the hawks

the men are singing tim minchin with me like they sang heavy metal music

i don’t wanna be someone people hate, i wanna be liked for being the person, i want to be

not the person that dad wanted me to be, not the person that hooligans wanted me to be

respect me, i want to be a cool party dude who LOVES TIM MINCHIN, radical STUFF

Indoctrination of the American nation
Relocation of native populations
Slaves labor, creating plastic toys
To distract the little girls and boys
With media propaganda saturation
To numb your brain from realization
That we're living a lie as children die
To fill your tank so you can drive
To Wal-Mart for some *******' Cheesy Poofs
That scoop the dip in which you ****
Lay waste to nature's beauty abundant
Political doublespeak redundantly redundant
Television's collision with consciousness
Has dimmed your awareness to idiocy
In an illusion of democracy
Where only the rich have control
As upon us all they take their toll
And we blindly follow, believing as we hear
Their scheming lies of security and fear
It's time the power structure fell
No more this **** to buy and sell
Reallocation of the hoarded wealth
And power for all people, not oneself
Mental stasis, awaken from this hypnosis
And avert the coming catastrophic crisis
Our leaders are masters who march us to disaster
As the clash of our cultures ignites so much faster
Than mere cognition, dimmed by television
Can comprehend the impending collision
Of conflicting interest in collective vision
It's time to rise with a battle cry
And tell the Feds we won't lay down and die
We'll evolve and resolve the situation
And bring new meaning to revolution
An end to the media's web of confusion
Confusing reality with an illusion
Conspiratorial governmental parallels
A trumpet's blast, as Babylon.... fell.

I like to think (sometimes)
That I am a voice of Reason,
Especially when Reason
Eludes the masses.
I am the back-up plan
When everything goes
Pear-shaped, and You find
Yourself in a Living
Nightmare, struggling to
Survive in a hostile
Hostel far, far from home.
I'll be Your kernel of hope,
When all Reason evades
The light of day and
Night encroaches doomily.

I'm for the under-classes;
The voiceless throngs -
The Real backbones
Unrepresented by the Elite.

I'm for the Prostitutes and the criminally conjoined groupies;
I'm for the Legal Aiders - The reps on the ground, helping as best they can;
I'm for the lost-in-the-system; the poofs and lesso's; the avant-garders -
I'll be the rear-guard actioner, protecting Our arses from undue surprises.
I'll be the validator for the vilified,
And I'll not allow undue cruelty to trouble myn own loved ones -
My hard-lifers and my ugly-fuggly beauties --> Hands off!

And, I'm for the silent souls patiently waiting...so long, so long...
But ever hopeful that someone will rescue and love them too.
[Sorry I took so long to get up to speed. I know You knew way back when.]

On the good days, the words flutter around like butterflies waiting patiently to be choosen.  Other days, the dark uncertain times, they swarm you like hornets, stinging you over and over again.  Making the words fall from your eyes like tears splashing onto the page. You can avoid the whole thing,  by being normal, choose the hallmark life, pre-made and hollow love, never know mad love, never go crazy.  Live  the easy life, never risk anything, stay far far away from the edge.  If you want to call that living.  Bee bites and butterfly kisses, you can't just choose one, you have to live with them both.  The light wings of love and the swollen  eyes and hands from the stingers in your heart and soul... That's my life, the life I want at least... sleeping in the mouth of madness.  Somedays... it hurts, painful heart-wrenching hurt, Somedays its just so ******* beautiful all you do is weep at being alive to witness it.  Beautiful pain and heart breaking love... mad mad love.  How's that song go...

"You may be right
I may be crazy
But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for
Turn out the light
Don't try to save me"

Is that the stones...No Joel you say, so you've heard it... but did you really listen, down in your gut far down below your ears.  See that's one of the problems of the easy life, they don't teach you to listen, really listen where it matters.  Deep down in your dark belly full of demons and monsters and devils, where all the do is listen and if you let them... they turn it all into mad love to keep you alive, really alive.  Not that fake life so many people are so desperate to live.  Every one so ******  afraid of letting a little pain or misery into their lives, all just wanting to be "happy".  Never learning or realizing what they end up missing out on.  A miserable life, there's a secret to it that they won't share with you.  To be miserable, truely  miserable... you have to be touched at least once, just once, by mad crazy stark raving lunatic mad love.  You have to have danced in the mountains of madness for just a second.  And that single touch and that single moment of dancing there among the lunatics of love... that kind of love, never leaves you.  It shoots straight to the marrow of your bones, the bottom of your bottomless heart, soaks into the darkness in the depths of your soul.  It may not stay in your arms or your bed, it may not last as long as it promised or you wanted... but it never just flat out leaves you.  It stays... after every other fire burns out, after every star falls from the sky, after the moon and sun commit their last act of love for each other and both drink each others poison, when the whole of existence just "poofs" and dissappears... That mad love will still be there.  And all those lucky lunatics who went mad and loved crazy will have it all to themselves... MmmHmmm, nothing but that Madness and love.  What a god forsaken beautiful **** fest of an **** that's going to be... just madness and love free from all the other *******, going at it like a couple of teens who just discovered the ability to ******.  And misery knows it, misey hates it.  Because misery can bend you over in a dark alley and take you by force... but misery goes away at just the hope of love, in the presence of love its nothing more than a mist and a ghost.  It might whisper to you behind loves back... but never face to face with love.  Misery is one of the merchants peddling the easy life with the pre-made hollow love and ideal of a happy safe life far away from that scary forbidden edge.  Don't fall for it... find your reason to go mad, find your passenger to drive laughing over the edge with.  Embrace your lunatic and fill your heart and your life with that mad mad love.  Be your miserable ******* self to the core and bitter end... if you need me, you can find me at the mouth of madness, just listen, you'll hear me singing, horribly and off key and out of tune, you can hear me singing to the moon.  You may not belive it, I know it sounds crazy... but baby your the one that saved me.  I'll be waiting here in this mad mad love you gave me... nothing beautiful left in this life for me to do... Thank you... I hope you know I love you.

you were a wild child
with a wet sticky ****
you played with it often
on a pillow you'd grunt

then mama betrayed
licentious you
with ruinous morals
don't play with your goo

girls keep their legs crossed
and don't talk to boys
*** is for grown ups
and ***** aren't toys

your hardened your heart
kept your *** in a box
to be a good girl
grew cold like a pox

emergent depression
sadness and cold
you had to say no
though the boys where so bold

soon there was rage
for no reason at all
your hair turned to snakes
cause boys wouldn't call

gorgons are demons
that turn men to stone
from endless denial
here comes the crone

then comes the fetish
she aches to be dead
she poofs out her ***
begs, please take my head

"You better make that Candy Bar Last"
It's hard for a broken back to enjoy
"His next stand"
without a prop to help hold him
up from falling
in "Chernobyl's Black Hole"
as his counterpart hovers in safety
watching another drown. "What planet are you? Far?"
Miles pledge the marks
Until the quiet fades
And Mr. Hyde Tries to fight you
The Wicked Joker reigns "supreme"
as you fight past A Waking Nightmare
Not a "Wizard " in "past Kansas"
Your soul flies far away
As your waking body receives their torture
As the body shivers and then ages
Fire burns remembrance
As it's ashes marks the lost pages
from your past
The smoke poofs into explosive shell rains
Smile
You are now in a movie
Fighting a forced "in class."

I feel weightless.
As if I could lay down on the grass and somehow carry myself to the moon and beyond.
Looking down beneath me are the trees swaying back and forth with ease while the grass, in slow motion, silently follows.
All part of an orchestra.
Slowly lifting my arm towards a cloud, my hair flows to my collarbones and gently moves from behind my neck all around my face until it stretches far from reach.
I hold a piece of this cloud
pressing it firmly against my chest, it poofs with every heart beat.
I raise my chin upwards to see a dancing trio of shooting stars with elegance.
The higher I move, the clearer the stars become and you notice the sparkling trail they leave behind.

I'm at my highest, my most sincere, my most painless form of being.
Holding the last piece of my excruciating eternity, in the left palm of my hand, I slowly open my fingers and let it slip from my grip and let it fall to the deepest underground of the Earth.
Slowly but surely, I interlace all my fingers together pressing them against my palms as I rest them on my hollow chest.
Eyes closed, sewn in place.
What better way to descend.

There’s cackling and crackling as my kindling is alight..I smell burning creosote and the flames are bright..I love the ambience and I feel alright.. stoking up my hearth on a chilly Autumn night

There is nothing as nice as an open roaring fire as the yellow flames, tinged with blue rise up higher.. puffing grey smoke out through my chimney ***.. Oh I love my wood burner it hits the spot..I see all kinds of things within my mighty inferno..but then again my imagination’s very wacky you know

Cowboys chasing Indians riding on the hoofs.. as the blaze flares and flashes whilst the combustion poofs.. witches and warlocks wave wooden wands conjuring magic potions as frogs jump in ponds..There are faces from places that I knew in the past with happiness and sadness amidst elation and aghast