FIVE IRON FRENZY LYRICS

Upbeats and Beatdowns

The Old West

Up until the middle of the 20th century, many Americans believed in the idea known as the "Manifest Destiny." It held that all of North America, from sea to shining sea, was rightfully the property of the U.S. and was given to us by God. Native Americans were unscrupulously thrown off their homelands and slaughtered in the name of Jesus. Horror stories of entire tribes being led through rivers while being baptized, just to be shot and scalped on the other side, rival those of the Spanish Inquisition. Today, I see street corner preachers screaming at passers-by, while the amount of Neo-Nazi Hate crimes are escalating every day. All of this under a blanket name of "Christianity." Read Your Bible. Jesus never beat people or insulted them into believing in him. He spoke the truth And set an example by loving every man. We are called to follow his example. Remember the Massacres at Sand Creek and meeker. Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. Some cowboys were a ridin', ridin' on the range; The grass was over grazed there, and spotted like some mange; The buffalo were dead there, the trees they all were through, and if they saw some Injuns, why they would kill them too. West or bust, in God we trust, "Let's rape, let's kill, let's steal" We can almost justify, anything we feel; I'm climbing up that ladder, more brownie points for me I'll work my way to Jesus you wait and see. Said one cowboy to another, "I think it would be nice, if we could take these injuns and convert them all to Christ; See, they are all disgusting, and bringing me great pain, and if they don't believe me, we'll put a bullet in their brains!" I am always shoutin', when I go outside, how people should repent now, or they're going to die. My motives are all selfish, I'm a cannon brimmed with powder. If people don't believe me, I just beat them and yell louder.

Where Zero Meets Fifteen

My car broke down in Arizona, have to ride the bus again, at ten-o-clock on Tuesday night, with thirteen cents and a broken pen. I put my backpack on the bench, tell two people I don’t smoke, see the cop across the street, he thinks that I am selling dope, I could have walked another block, to get away from the scene. Why does it always come to this, where zero meets fifteen? And so I gave my thirteen cents, to the man who peed his pants. He passes out and falls on me, I watch my change fall from his hand. I see the lady next to me, holds her baby black blue. The junkie gutter-punks keeps asking, where I got my new tattoo. What does it matter anyway, thirteen cents or all I own? How can I ever save the world, on cup-o-soup and student loans? I want to try and save the world, but it never goes that way. God I don’t know what to do, down at Colfax and Broadway. Now the man with no shoes on, says I don’t know how to play. He says I fumble all the time. He thinks that I am John Elway. I put my face down in my hands, water wells inside my eyes. What do I have to give them? Does it matter if I try? I can’t stand to see you suffer, I try to intellectualize, a formula to end you pain, it doesn’t work, God knows I’ve tried. Sometimes my cup is overfilled. Sometimes I’m too afraid that I’m going to spill.

Cool Enough For You

What could this be, too much MTV? Chalk another fad up for its fall into infamy. What’s in a standard if it changes all the time? You’re still having trouble in defining your own kind. Need I remind you, we all knew you before, you threw the rocks at the stage from your glass house on the floor? Now I think you’re punk, just because it’s in. You found a foul mouth and a couple safety pins. Got a peaceful feeling, I don’t want to fight no more. Got a peaceful feeling, I don’t care if we’re punk, or ska, or hardcore, enough for you, it’s sad but true, you can call us names till your face turns blue. Our assurance comes from God, it’s nothing new, we’ll never care ‘cause we’re never cool enough for you. That smug look on your face, your nose up in the air, your patches say you’re open-minded, but still you couldn’t bear, some punk thrown in with ska. You said it wouldn’t work. Well you can take your Vespa home ‘cause ska made you a jerk. The purist turns a deaf ear. He’s such an intellect, Does he think his censorship is gaining our respect? The raising of a fist, like a trigger of a gun. Stop and see we’re all alike, and we can dance as one.

Anthem

A nation stands with heart in hand To sing their anthem proudly Voices raised to sing their praise Of their hollow country All this talk of freedom And some talk of liberty From your plastic podium You try and convince me I can't fall anymore For some silver-tongued song Your freedom isn't free So let me say what freedom means to I can's see red, white, and blue waving in the air I don't hear the bombs bursting and I don't even care I'm sorry for my lack of faith I'm not the greatest patriot If this is all their is to freedom I don't want it I can't fall anymore For some silver-tongued song Your freedom isn't free So let me say what freedom means to Pushing us a drug that you call freedom and democracy Promise us that selfishness is the means for happiness I burned that bridge so long ago that I can hardly see Anything but solace in what freedom means to me I can't fall anymore For some silver-tongued song Freedom isn't free So let me say what freedom means to It cannot mean to serve ourselves That doesn't mean a thing It doesn't mean to give the license To seek ourselves in anything That would be slavery to ourselves it isn't free Jesus Christ, the only thing that freedom means to me.

Faking Life

Through this mirrored image feeling Was my head so oddly reeling Not aware of floor or ceiling Kneeling and crying out All the past I'd spent denying Watching others lose in trying The time I wasted spent in crying Where could truth be found? Joy could not be found in money Don't put your faith in somebody Not in attempts to be funny Life seems incomplete Why doubt the life He offers When all the world is not enough? Who knows if we've got time We cannot wait 'till it's too late Searching for someone else to blame Hoping I won't go insane Selfish pride my only gain Faking sanity The charade said I was fine Knowing riches would be mine I chose to face the cross the sign I gave my future up Joy could not be found in money Don't put your faith in somebody Not in attempts to be funny Life seems incomplete Why doubt the life He offers When all the world is not enough? Who knows if we've got time We cannot wait 'till it's too late.

Shut Up

Arnold, and Willis, and Mr. Drumond

Straight from the ghetto streets of Harlem, came two brothers Willis and Arnold, black goldfish swims in the bowl, he's three feet high, four with the afro. Stealing cookies from the jar, droppin' water balloons on cars. I hope Mrs.. Garret won't see, just play sick for Mohammed Ali. the Gooch is coming, to steal milk money. Arnold, and Willis, and Mr. Drumond, and don't forget Kimberly. They just cancelled Dukes of Hazard, Different Strokes is all I want to see. Way up high in the penthouse apartment, making us laugh its Willis and Arnold. Mr. Drumond's got the dough, they get to ride in a limo Different Strokes, its almost time. We just watch 'cause Kimberly's fine. Half hour long it never fills us, when he says, "What you talkin' 'bout Willis?". Write the cable company, different strokes all the time. Mr. Drumond, a man of the means, loves two black brothers, they've only got the blue jeans.

I Feel Lucky

The air is so clear, the sky is so blue, I know what you mean, I feel lucky too. I found a dollar, it's like a dream. I love this place, my Slurpee is so Green. So much easier to think that we did this all ourselves, so much easier to let our hearts do what they've felt. To throw our chips up in the air, and let the praise fall where it may. I feel, I feel lucky. It's a well know fact, our hearts are black. A maze full of mice, a game of cosmic, dice, a never- ending quiz, is all you think this is. A gaping black hole, all the glory that you stole. (There's no such thing as luck.)

Milestone

If I had a nickel for every single time I've tried to classify the populace around me with a word, or a catchy phrase, I could quit my job for good and play Nintendo until my fingers ached. Am I an idiot, too lazy to think twice? I point the finger, but I can't take my own advice. I put a name on something and ever since, I've made an art of building my counterfeit intelligence. Seemingly to me, I am Straightening a world of cluttered thoughts and a debris inside my head, but I think instead of prejudiced and I give people names to make me feel safe. How does it feel what does it take to make me understand? If I could only walk a mile in the shoes of another man. If I could look out through his eyes and know what it means to bleed the same red blood that I do. What is economic status, and tell me what is race? who decides to Classified taxonomy of grace? If one man gets less that another is it true, that he is all that different, that he is less than you?

Beautiful America

The man on the television said I need to drink this, and sleep with that, in order to be cool. And you know that I would do almost anything, to be like that guy on TV. I know that if I had just the right outfit and a hairstyle that could be me. Don't you know you can't be cool if you dress dumb, I need to have that 'cause everybody's got one. I think I'll start smoking, that would make me intellectual, that's what I've always wanted to be. I need to lift weights, that would make me more sexual, and that would be good for me. In America it's wonderful, all you have to do is fake it. Own anything you want, all you have to do is take it. Live for today, don't think about tomorrow, have a good time in America-Gomorrah. What are you looking at, you better not make me mad. I'll drive by your house and shoot your dog, and mom, and dad. I don't need you or the Bible or anything to tell me what is the law. With a good enough lawyer I can do anything in Beautiful America. I want to be in America, Okay for me in America, everything's free in America, for a small fee in America.

Combat Chuck

A real life superhero. He's got the Holy Ghost. He's either praising Jesus, or he's making toast. Ain't got no superpowers, ain't got no giant brain, but he would try and help you, if he heard you call his name. There's some kids there in some trouble, need a Pepsi on the double. then he shouts, not so quiet, "Would you like regular or diet?" Found a campsite for some kids, by the stage is what he did. People ask why he's so nice, he wants to be like Jesus Christ. Whenever you're in trouble, whenever you're in need, Combat Chuck will help you, he nearly runs with speed. he's on the ball to save the masses, got some thick old horn-rimmed glasses. his head is bald, he shaved it shiny. Kicks the devil in his hiney. People ask why he's so nice, he wants to be like Jesus Christ.

Amalgamate

You’ve got a cause now, I heard You braggin’. Always the fastest One on the bandwagon. So sit Down and I’ll tell you, what I’m Feeling, what I am feeling. For a Lack of better words you are Stealing, you are stealing, all of my joy away from me. What ever happened to our unity? We cut ourselves, our own limbs we've severed. It's time for us to pull together and stand, as one. All eyes are turning towards the Son. Drop your fists now, what you resent. Let's not forget who we represent. And fall to our knees in unity. Another day now, another doctrine, another monkey wrench in the system. Some folks kneelin', some just listen, some fallin' out of the pews from twistin'. I don't care kinds, how you do it. United we'll stand and we'll pull through it. All were dead once. All enslaved. Now pull together 'cause we've all been saved. the only Jesus this world's gonna see, is the Jesus in you and me. So pick your cross up, stop your swingin'. Stop and look at the stink you're bringin' to this body with your fighting, you bust more more knuckles that the wrongs your righting. What's important, is where we relate, it's the meaning of the word Amalagate..

Everywhere I Go

I was wasting time Oh so sure to find somebody who'll Never go How could I know None I'd found was true None could be but you The only one love divine My heart, my mind are yours Everywhere I go I see your face through the crowd Everywhere I go I hear your voice clear and loud Everywhere I go you are the light that I seek Everywhere I go you have found me Where could my heart go Where you wouldn't be Where you wouldn't know to find me? Far, far from here Still you are near Still you are near to me And I see I have seen you in the morning In the guiding light you hold me Closer than the air around me You surround me always

A Flowery Song

Beautiful day, wonderful feeling, this reason to sing, psalms meaning songs singing praises all day long. Joy fills the weak, joy makes us strong. Filled 'till we burst, songs of praise to the God of the Universe. Despite our selfish selves, despite all loss of hope, despite our lack of faith, despite our stony hearts, despite the waning moon, despite the ebbing tide of how we think this world should be. Praise God from whom all blessings flow, praise Him all creatures here below, praise Him above ye heavenly host, praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Gray rainy day, down in the mud for us. Don't feel I can sing, songs to the God in control of the seasons. But what's good and bad, flow from the hands, of the God with the perfect plan. Filling us with joy, all of this will glorify.

Third World Think Tank

I walked into the room, and she was right there waiting. Leaning up against the bar, well she was perpertraitin'. Slick as snot her spandex, and blacker than some coal, she set her gaze upon my bootie, with disco in her soul. So much for indecision, so quick did she decide, the temptress with her doors open inviting me inside. "I want to take you home with me", said the sparkle in her eye. "I would like to honey, but I'm about to die." I have got a time bomb, I strapped it to my chest. When it blows I'm out of here, you can have what's left. The room got kind of quiet, and you could smell the fear. I only heard the jukebox play "A Tear is in My Beer". "So what's the verdict Mister? When's it gonna blow?" I just winked at her and said, "Darlin' I don't know." Time-bomb tickin' in the room, everybody goes someday, blows so quick you better be, somewhere where it's safe. Thin skinned thread-bare thinkin', now you're gonna die, don't try to rock the jukebox, just kiss this world good-bye. What's the deal, don't you feel, alone now in the silence? Pushing up the daisies now, there's better ways for you to diet. Seeking after sucker wealth, suckers feel what suckers dealt, All your life you stuffed your face, now you're dead I rest my case. Got a story here to tell, so you better listen well. some old lady in a church, got a nickel in her purse. You were rich, she was poor. You dropped some fifties on the floor. She dropped her nickel with a clank, she was thinkin' Third World Think Tank. The Karaoke master, the drunkard, and the jerk, ditch this sorry world and all its worth. Keep your candle burning, waiting for the time, ready to explode, the bomb is primed.

Our Newest Album Ever

Handbook for Sellout

You found a way to draw a line, between the world and you. Faking your identity it's true. Did you think the word "alternative", was only meant for the likes of you? Do you think that they're too cool now? Being popular is lame. You're the one who made them popular, all their songs are still the same. You found them first, it made you stand apart, you know? But then everyone jumped on the same bandwagon, making you an average Joe, A lemming for the mediocre, you were just a plain old joker status quo. Blame it on the band now. If you pick them do they bleed? What's the point in playing what they want, if you won't let them succeed? Do you remember where we all came from? Do you remember what it's all about? When you made a point to be objective, before you started writing Handbook for the Sellout? You sunk your worth in being different, just to be like your own kind. You traded in objectiveness, for the underground you follow blind.

Where is Micah

It's five minutes from the show, so where the heck did Micah go? I don't know, he's not around. I didn't hear him make a sound. His wherabouts we could not find. I think we left him behind. Have you seen him? Micah,where did Micah go? Micah, should be at our show, Micah, guess that we should find him, Micah, 'cause we kind of like him here. Poor John walsh his hear is bleeding, " Have you seed me?" milk jugs reading: does this face ring a bell, is he lost inside some well? I think we left him at the show. I think we left him in Toledo. We've got a roll of duct-tape for the next time he tries to run away. Come on Micah, it's time for your feeding, do you want another senseless beating?

Superpowers

Bacon bits and jalapenos on my polish hot dog. Half a pound of potato chips, and a beef jerky log. I press my face to the window, a wrapper sticks to my shirt. Eight people in a stinky van, a couple more couldn't hurt. Eat some food off the floor. I've developed a taste for bread mold. Ride around in a van, don't take a shower for six weeks and... We've been given superpowers, ask us for an autograph. We sing, we dance we'll make you laugh, don't you want to be like us? We've been given superpowers, ask about our rock and roll, our hair , our clothes, hobbies, and pets. Does he have a girlfriend yet? Everyone in the band can't stand me, just because I fell off the stage, and kind of by accident, I broke the promoters legs. Sometimes we have a deadline for writing our songs. Five minutes left to write this one la,la,la,la,la,la,la. Sleep in a sleeping bag. Every floor looks the same as last night. You wake up, you drive, you play a show, and then you sleep again. I sometimes feel like I'm holden caulfield, sometimes Jack Keroac. I wanted to be famous, now I want to take it back. Don't want to rock the mic, don't want to meet the pope, I just want to share with you, how we got this peace and hope. I once wanted to be famous, now I want to take it back.

Fistful of Sand

Up from the sands of the mighty Sahara comes, Our hero bold, who so it's told, is a lot like you and me. His passion burns, the world it turns, He fills his hand to fill the void, And fuels the constant feeling, Of nothingness inside his soul. Feels like nothing ever did. Kills like nothing ever could. Dark and jaded world I hated, Everything I left behind. I don't need you, and I don't want you, World that left me blind. Beneath the sands of the mighty Sahara lies, Buried treasure sunken deep, in darkened tombs where dead men sleep. Gold fills hands, or is it sand, The same that covers everything? Where cities stood, soon deserts found, Now sink beneath the swelling ground. Feels like nothing ever did. Kills like nothing ever could. Dark and jaded world I hated, Everything I left behind. I don't need you, and I don't want you, World that left me blind. This world is for the taking, This world is suffocating. Plastic bags of Novocaine, Some PCP to kill the pain. Build a tomb to store your rust, Moth-eaten piles of blowing dust. Under the sands of the mighty Sahara, Goes our hero bold, in search of gold, a casket for a dying world. Our hero stands, wealth in hand, The prize for his endeavors. The masses cheer, to hide their fears That no man lives forever. Feels like nothing ever did. Kills like nothing ever could. Dark and jaded world I hated, Everything I left behind. I don't need you, and I don't want you, World that left me blind.

Suckerpunch

Coke bottle glasses, I'm sitting in the corner with my finger up my nose, And my shoelaces untied again, Another day of school with no friends. A social outcast, Two grades ahead in math, with my highwater pants, Giving meaning to pencil-necked-geek, A dork or so to speak, tongue-in-cheek. They're all sucker-punching me, Get in line for a wedgie. All I want and all I need, Is someone who believes in me. A song sung for underdogs, for all the left out. A flag flying for losers, somewhere in the Heavens. The God of ever-lasting comfort, believed in me, Loved me when I was faithless, he still died for me. Junior High schooler With pencils in my pockets, and my Trapper Keeper busted, Spilling papers and books on the floor, Not wanting seventh grade anymore. Another class-clown, Acting like a goof to be accepted by my peers, Giving meaning to pencil-necked-geek, a dork or so to speak, tongue in cheek. They're all sucker-punching me, Get in line for a wedgie. All I want and all I need, Is someone who believes in me. A song sung for underdogs, for all the left out. A flag flying for losers, somewhere in the Heavens. The God of ever-lasting comfort, believed in me, Loved me when I was faithless, he still died for-- A song sung for underdogs, for all the left out. A flag flying for losers, somewhere in the Heavens. The God of ever-lasting comfort, believed in me, Loved me when I was faithless, he still died for me.

Kitty Doggy

Blue Comb'78

Summer of 1978, My sister and I in the back seat just wait. We pass the time by making lines in the seat that we can't cross, A thin line like dental floss. She threw my new blue comb out the window, somewhere on I-70. Dad said, "I'm sorry, but we can't go back," We're never going back to get it. It was the first comb I ever had. Got it just that morning from my mom and my dad. Light blue in color, I could never find another, comb like that, big and fat... So tell me, have you seen my comb? Last time I saw it, it was in her hands, And then it was bouncing down the road. It wasn't fancy, it wasn't brown, But now it might be from lying on the ground. So tell me, have you seen my comb? Driving down the road in September, I was only five but I still remember, Where the highway turns at the bottom of the hill, My parents both up front 'cause they loved each other still. Maybe just a comb made of plastic, Or an action of a sibling lacking couth, But something that was thrown out that window, Was the last great symbol of my youth. Have you seen my comb? Last time I saw it, it was in her hands, And then it was bouncing down the road. It wasn't fancy, it wasn't brown, But now it might be from lying on the ground. So tell me, have you seen my comb?

Banner Year

A banner year 1864, don't want the red man anymore, Can't have them taking up good land. Give them a token flag, trade pipes and shake some hands, Tell them the white stripes stand for peace. Say if they raise red white and blue, Blue coats will never shoot at you, But stripes will loose their sheen, Black Kettle was their chief, he only wanted peace, Under the flag...a massacre at Sand Creek. Wave your flag. Salivate. Stirring feelings of pride and hate. A peace of cloth can't hold your faith. No flag flies, no banner waves, See the empty pole above his empty grave. No one knows where he lies, and no one know just why he had to die. A banner year 1868, a bitter end a twist of fate. Maps won't hold this melanoma, Blurry part of Oklahoma, Where Custer shot and killed Black Kettle. Wave your flag. Salivate. Stirring feelings of pride and hate. A peace of cloth can't hold your faith. No flag flies, no banner waves, See the empty pole above his empty grave. No one knows where he lies, and no one know just why he had to die. A promise is a promise, A judge of character. His banner over me is love. No flag flies, no banner waves, See the empty pole above his empty grave. No one knows where he lies, and no one know just why he had to die. No flag flies, no banner waves, See the empty pole above his empty grave. No one knows where he lies, and no one know just why he had to die

Second Season

I wonder if these minutes were my last, If I should start to feast or start to fast. Would I pray or would I curse, Hope for good or something worse? What emotion would I feel? Would I run or would I kneel? Time is winding down but only for this life. I want to be found enjoying the next life. I see leaves and they are starting to turn brown. They'll be green and growing when the second season comes around. The strongest will expire just the same, The quick will fall exactly like the lame. I'll do nothing at the most To keep from giving up the ghost, Try to make my shoulders broad, But I am helpless without God. Time is winding down but only for this life. I want to be found enjoying the next life. I see leaves and they are starting to turn brown. They'll be green and growing when the second season comes around. I may try to grip control, But when for me shall this bell toll? If the answer is to bow, To him that makes how soon is now? Time is winding down but only for this life. I want to be found enjoying the next life. I see leaves and they are starting to turn brown. They'll be green and growing when the second season comes around

Litmus

Disturbed by the words and the message that they sent. There's a hundred other uses for breath better spent. Forming the template, for how the band should be, Devising and scheming someone else's ministry. What were the words? Did he say Jesus Christ? Again and again until his name became trite? What is the extent of all your tests? What is the measure of their success? Not acid or base to test in a beaker, Hold your diving rod up to the speaker. Litmus test a piece of paper. You'll never formulate your maker. With pocketfuls of quips and gurgles, Words that fluff like a handful of gerbils. I heard your yelling above the crowd, Standing in the back with the arrogant and proud. You say preach, they say rock. You put my God inside a box. What is the extent of all your tests? What is the measure of their success? Not acid or base to test in a beaker, Hold your diving rod up to the speaker. Litmus test a piece of paper. You'll never formulate your maker. The time has come, the night to end, So speak your piece to your circle of friends. They ripped you off, they entertained, [They did not try to ease your pain.] You thought you knew where God belonged, But songs were sung and the band played on. Litmus test a piece of paper. You'll never formulate your maker.

Oh, Canada

Welcome to Canada, it's the Maple Leaf State. Canada, oh Canada it's great! The people are nice and they speak French too. If you don't like it, man, you sniff glue. The Great White North, their kilts are plaid, Hosers take off, it's not half bad. I want to be where yaks can run free, Where Royal Mounties can arrest me. Let's go to Canada, let's leave today, Canada, oh, Canada, I Sil Vous Plait. They've got trees, and mooses, and sled dogs, Lots of lumber, and lumberjacks, and logs! We all think it's kind of a drag, That you have to go there to get milk in a bag. They say "eh?" instead of "what?" or "duh?" That's the mighty power of Canada. I want to be where lemmings run into the sea, Where the marmosets can attack me. Let's go to Canada, let's leave today, Canada, oh, Canada, I Sil Vous Plait. Please, please, explain to me, How this all has come to be, We forgot to mention something here. Did we say that William Shatner is a native citizen? And Slurpees made from venison, That's deer. Let's go to Canada, let's leave today, Canada, oh, Canada, I Sil Vous Plait.

Most Likely to Succeed

Overzealous to say the least. Underestimated, how far you could reach. How could we know, How far you'd go, Behind our backs to make sure your point is heard? You're better than us all. Does it really matter how far you go? Can you get some sleep now, standing on so many toes? Do what you do when you say what you want to say, With or without regard for me. Scheme what you scheme when you're thinking of yourself, You're the most likely to succeed. Now that my purpose has been served, Make a caste system for a modern world. Your motto rings, "Tomorrow brings, Another life to underrate, To belittle and humiliate." Does it really matter how far you go? Can you get some sleep now, standing on so many toes? Do what you do when you say what you want to say, With or without regard for me. Scheme what you scheme when you're thinking of yourself, You're the most likely to succeed. The yearbook said that you'd be another winner, You forgot what success should mean. The poster child for becoming homeless, Mr. Most Likely to Succeed. And as you go, Call to mind the things you've come to know. Be sure to wave goodbye, On that day you die, To all that you wanted, You're leaving behind. Do what you do when you say what you want to say, With or without regard for me. Scheme what you scheme when you're thinking of yourself, You're the most likely to succeed. The yearbook said that you'd be another winner, You forgot what success should mean. The poster child for becoming homeless, Mr. Most Likely to Succeed.

Every New Day

When I was young, the smallest trick of light, Could catch my eye, Then life was new and every new day, I thought that I could fly. I believed in what I hoped for, And I hoped for things unseen, I had wings and dreams could soar, I just don't feel like flying anymore. When the stars threw down their spears, Watered Heaven with their tears, Before words were spoken, Before eternity. Dear Father, I need you, Your strength my heart to mend. I want to fly higher, Every new day again. When I was small, the furthest I could reach, reach, was not so high, then, I thought the world was so much smaller, feeling I, could fly. Through distant deeps and skies, behind infinity, below the face of Heaven, he stoops to create me. Man versus himself. Man versus machine. Man versus the world. mankind versus me. The struggles go on, the wisdom I lack, the burdens keep piling up on my back. So hard to breathe, to take the next step. The mountains is high, I wait in the depths. Yearning for grace, and hoping for peace. Dear God... increase. Healing hands of God have mercy on our unclean souls once again. Jesus Christ, light of the world burning bright within our hearts forever. Freedom means love without condition, a beginning or an end. Here’s my heart, let it be forever Your’s, only you can make every new day seem so new.

Quantity is Job 1

Evil Plan to Save the World

I have an evil plan to save the world for every man, and I think it*s better than the way it*s being run. Oh, the ground works laid, no don*t be afraid, I*m sure that I can fix it, when I figure out the physics. My evil plan to save the world, just you wait *till it*s unfurled, it*ll go down in history. It*s prophetic, no it*s not pathetic. I can*t believe I made it up myself. I have an evil plan, to save the world you understand, the exemplary feat, you*d think I*d have to cheat. I*d make Voltaire proud, deep and furrow browed. Uncanny and so clever, it*s *Our Newest Plan Ever!* Got tired of whining, a grander scheme with silver lining, for every boy and girl. We can*t be responsible, for all that*s wrong with this world. Starving children in pain, you can*t believe in that God. The world*s not spinning your way, does every dog still get his day?

All that is good

Where does the misunderstanding come from, demanding that we be outstanding and then some? Perfection never was a requirement although some might say we desired it. So then for times when things get old I might get cynical I see that I don*t see. Do they see You when they see me? In honesty there*s room for improvement Thoughts may change, the truth be told, A closed mind will leave you empty Use your mind to use your soul. Alert the press, their dogmas are a mess, Opinions shift, a broken sift, an empty hand, And billboards ask, *where do they stand.* Do all streams lead to one sea? Logically there*s room for all questions Though the answers aren*t all known, Objectivities the myth of plenty, Who doubt His truth within their soul.

Dandelions

In a field of yellow flowers, underneath the sun, bluest eyes that spark with lightning, boy with shoes undone. He is young, so full of hope, reveling in tiny dreams, filling up, his arms with flowers, right for giving any queen. Running to her beaming bright, while cradling his prize. A flickering of yellow light, within his mother*s eyes. She holds them to her heart, keeping them where they*ll be safe, clasped within her very marrow, dandelions in a vase. She sees love, where anyone else would see weeds. all hope is found. Here is everything he needs. Fathomless your endless mercy, weight I could not lift. Where do I fit in this puzzle, what good are these gifts? Not a martyr, or a saint, scarcely can I struggle through. All that I have ever wanted, was to give my best to you. Lord, search my heart, create in me something clean. Dandelions you see flowers in these weeds. Gently lifting hands to heaven, softened by the sweetest hush, a Father sings over his children, loving them so very much. More than words could warrant, deeper than the darkest blue, more than sacrifice could merit, Lord, I give my heart to you.

One Girl Army

Here lies the old myth, breaking the mold with, truth to take away the trickery. Twenty centuries of progress, suffer slowly as we regress, losing headway to ourselves. Behold the covers, the sisters, the mothers, the daughters, and spouses, on the magazines. Truth has been abused. How could she fill those shoes? Propaganda meant to fuel their schemes. She is strong but never silent, sure of where her truth/strength comes from., one day, one girl army will overcome. Treading the current, issues at hand, Shifting, we sway, from justice and then back again. What we once broke, He has made right, lifting her up, giving birth to Jesus Christ.

Sweet Talkin' Woman

Where did you go? I was searching, searching, on a one way street. I was hoping, hoping, for a chance to meet, I was waiting for the operator on the line. She*s gone so long. What can I do? Where could she be? No, no, no, don*t know what I*m gonna do, I gotta get back to you. (You gotta) slow down, slow down, sweet talkin* woman, slow down, you got me running, run, run, you got me searching. Hold on, hold on, sweet talkin* Lola, hold on, it*s so sad if that*s the way it*s over. I was, working, many days go by. I was thinking, thinking, *bout the lonely night, communications breakdown all around. She*s gone so long. What can I do? Where could she go? No, no, no, don*t know what I*m gonna do, I gotta get back to you. I*ve been living, living, on a dead end street. I*ve been asking, asking, everybody I meet. Insufficient data coming through. She*s gone so long. What could I do? Where could she be? No, no, no, don*t know what I*m gonna do, I gotta get back to you. Ohhhhhhh!

When I Go Out

When I go out I play in the street. I get hit by cars. I make mashed potatoes. I get hit by cars.

Get Your Riot Gear

Just in case you were thinking this song was intended to be *cop-bashing*, it*s not. It*s about the riot after the Superbowl this year here in Denver. (Yes we live in Denver, not California or Nashville!) It*s a true story. If you don*t like it, make all complaints to the Denver Police Department, they*d love to hear from you. - Roper Something stirring in the air, a victory? A time-bomb ticking to explode, Something passive, something not. Billy clubs out, call the S.W.A.T. Rabid dogs without a leash, is this how you keep the peace? You want riots? Wear your riot gear. You want violence? Then shoot some tear gas in the air. It is written on your badge, *To serve and protect*, it seemed you only served yourselves, protecting your own neck. Controlling with fear, menacing and threatening. You want my respect? You better start respecting me. Go and get your riotgear, swing your girlie all around, we*ll be dancing on the cinders, as the town is burning down. Swing her around, burn it all down. Something smelled of power tripping, crowd control was rank. Tear gas everyone downtown, what you did really stank. Legislation, never made you judge and jury. Marshal law now, beat the kids down with no worries.

The Untimely Death of Brad

Here is the tale, it*s spoken word-for-word, it may be abominable, but, yes it must be heard. Nauseating at first, you can expect the worst, so listen closely, as the plot unfolds... I might stretch the truth, may be a little lie, there was a boy named Brad, he played trumpet, and he died. Too young for him to cease, Why? We haven*t got a clue, It*s on the internet, so then it must be true. The untimely death of Brad, how sad it must have been. If you see him anywhere, remember to console him. I curse the day, I ever met the boy, Only the good die young, they say. The details of his death are vague unbelievable it seems, as if his passing was only a dream. Catastrophe, calamity, what will we tell his mother now? Cataclysmic, a tragic mishap, I just heard that their band is breaking up. I hear his trumpet, his voice rings in my ears, it sometimes seems he*s standing very near. I don*t believe in ghosts, I*ve never seen one, but isn*t the trumpet playing haunting on this album? A day that lives in infamy, in horror we behold, his passing, his memory, but the truth must be told.