a little boy throws his pacifier into the ocean as if he'll never cry for a fishing rod. the fat women with the rainbow umbrella hat frowns at you from under harpoon heat. who taught these boys to float, draw snakes in sand, and skip stones? yesterday by the river, today by the sea. two boys wet with water wings. the sea is some odd billion humans being... but does my species make time tick? or put wind ripples in a would be sheet of glass? or cut horizons from segregated centers of atoms? or put wind ripples in a would be sheet of glass? or sweep this sand to shore? somewhere where the seagulls fly from rotting wood post to rotting wood post in hopes to rarely lift a foot off earth, where the leaves on trees are still somewhat symmetrical, where the grapes grow in bunches and the gooseberries in bags, there's a place where there are rules the game is played by. call it what you will, but carbon and water makes people and softdrinks. house flies eat dead dogs and morning glory still spreads like philly cream cheese. memoirs of an american mobile on holiday ladies and gentlemen, it's your statue with a very funny face. the rams crumpled horn hangs on a mobile balanced by its weight in severed feathers. it's true... the dead whales were always there, you only needed to put on your 3d glasses to see them on the side of the highway as every american monster drives by with the head of a cadillac riding bigrig trucks like ricky schroeder's silver spoon's train. i've just been here looking for suitable skipping stones or stones with holes to make a mobile with. a mobile's a collection of dead things hanging from strings only living in the wind giving into the wind floating wide open in the ocean with closed eyes and a sheet of blank loose leaf paper. it's difficult to tell which way's to shore. i'm only here to look for suitable stones to skip and to let the moon play magnet to tell the mediterranean waves to take me where they will. if i am willing to eat the crumbs from under the table and ready to rock the boat, i'd rather not ride with a shaved face, a hand shake, and a fake smile. ------------------------------------------------------- "Hey, Bobby...the Masters are back. They're up to no good just like the old days. They played dead when you stood over their grave. They played dead when you stood over their grave. By the time the flags rotted off of their antennas, they were questioning who the real threat is. Big Brotherly love is the 21st Century's plague. No matter how bloody the glove, question evidence displayed. Never forget what two plus two equals. Don't let them upgrade your math no matter what they have as proof of evil. Remember when they went after the Jewish people? You don't recognize that same black mask as see through? Attack of the eagles. If they don't fall dead before they reach me, I'll be damned if I don't shoot one in its bald head. Fuck what we're force fed. All I ever wanted was a warm bed and a house that wasn't haunted. I'd rather die for a cause than to die just because we exhaust natural resources forced into wars, restoring wasteful ways, keeping other countries poor. "Monkey see, Monkey do" I wonder what those fucking monkeys saw. Keep rethinking the still-frames in your mind, and I guarantee they will change with time. Your outline is pixelated with poor resolution while downtime is simply wasted. You were born execution style. Head first in a trial. I'll second the motion 'Til the jury's bored to death and puts your neck in a notion. SITUATION: Volatile, a naked problem child is trying to find the right clown costume to make his father smile. So he bombs while he tries to tell jokes. This ain't a false alarm, can't you smell the smoke? You're in the line of fire where they buy and sell votes. Our sense of liberty doesn't ring true, stupid, that's why the bell broke. Trench coat Mafiosos propel rocks at recruitment officers and rebel against cops 'Til they hurdle infinite circles in small cell blocks. Turtle upon turtle 'til they're all shell shocked. This so-called president got elected in a court room. With the war efforts of pops he inherited a fortune. We "talk, talk, talk..." so the veterans of war assume the revolution stopped. This ain't a protest tune. You can't roam a lost land as the last existing dinosaur. There's no escaping ass kickings in these times of war, replacing apples with hospitals...where doctors are hostile, Killing two pterodactyls with one fossil. I got you. If they don't fall dead Before they reach me, I'll be damned if I don't put one in it's bald head. Fuck what we're force fed. All I ever wanted, Was a warm bed...and house that wasn't haunted. This ain't a "Love it or leave it," it's a "Change it or lose it." I'll never sing the anthem of a nation who never faces the music, Chasing an ever-elusive caveman in space ships that makes trips to the futures that are name-brand. Faking progress...but we ain't advanced Enough to change the posture of our ape stance. They've got the key to the city but they prefer the break-in entry. Duck and weave, I'm shedding light in their shadow box to make it empty. "Hey, Bobby...them bastards are back. It's our turn to stand over their grave. I'ma follow through this time...I'm a wait, I'm a wait until their skin decays." "Hey, Bobby...the Masters are back. Up to no good just like the old days. They played dead when you stood over their grave. They played dead. looking for criticism - thoughts?
Yeah dude, you definitely did not write that first one! Thats "113th Clean" by Reaching Quiet = Yoni Wolf, Odd Nosdam, Josiah Wolf and Doug McDiarmid
