Buck 25, stamp the kids' hands, give them their baskets.
We may be the golden ones in the summer of short-pants and plastics.
Peeling and red, sweaty headbands, and wrinkled fingers.
Nickels in the pop machine drop and knock like crippled singers.

Say the right shit, kiss the ripe lips, Hi-C, and heatstroke.
With the lawn mowed and a cold water.
With the lawn mowed and a cold one, hand me your bone-saw.
Cut my own hands off.

It is the night.
It is the night.
It is the night come in the afternoon.
We are the flies.
We're always flying over your dead bodies.

Because we're all real tired of me.
Real tired of the shitty stuff.
So let's eliminate the down-time and the throw-up.
Let's fool ourselves again.
Let's eliminate the temple and the anchor
and the hooks that don't sink in.
Because we're all real tired of me.
Real tired of the shitty stuff.
Let's eliminate the down-time, etc., and ad nauseam.

The air swells and groans on steel.
An arc-weld, a stress-corroded seal,
On torches drone.
The long night [unintelligible].
A knife fight is real and right
To feel untie my bones.

Can't you come to the thing?
Everyone's gonna be singing.
Don't you want to be free,
Like the kid with the tambourine?

On a hill by the sea.
In Brazil everyone's singing.
Don't you want to believe in
Anything that doesn't make you sleep?

Vanya...

I'm trying to remember before I woke and started,
How was it in the dark for real?
I'm trying to get lost here.
The streets don't all make sense and
I'm trying to lose it all again.

Talking to the stones and living all alone,
this home, another stranger.
Have you seen the light cutting off the night?
Everyone, another stranger.
Running in the tub, water is another one,
The inside's living and warm.

I will be your home, etc.

Smiling in your sleep and feeling kinda weak
And dumb. We're some fun sometimes.
The one thing that we have
Is this home inside.
The fan is blowing hard.
Together.

I will be your home, etc.

Limes and Talk

Lost, I really had a lot of bad dreams
And strange thoughts.
God, I really had a lot to lose,
In your limes and your talk.

Hey, a comet is coming this way
The weight of the earth is a kiss
A kiss on the mouth of the end
The end of the day is a breath
A breath from outside of the sun
The sun is outside of the sight
The sight of the earth coming up,
Up from the comet that hit
The ocean and turned it to steam
Steam in the sky and the earth
The earth in the stars starts to freeze
And fall back down.

The little things are starting to come back again.
Again the air begins to heal some suffering.
Another day, it's hard to say what happened.
What happened.
The span that goes unmeasured know no happiness.
In sucking space, disgusting age for laughter.
For laughter.

Cassette

Time looks to flow especially slow
This Sunday morning.
Does pissing on the Buddha
Sully the Buddha or does
It sanctify your piss?
Everything you wanted, everything you wanted,
You wanted, you wanted everything, everything.