Someday I'll have a 6-pack, and you can wash your clothes on my gut: the archetypal male slut. All the girls, they'll think of me as their out-of-shape boys give them the shaft, and I will have the buns of steel and I will fuck a supermodel. I gleam with perfect symmetry, each step a textbook case. Your sister will see Jesus as I'm cumming on her face. Oh they'll beg to taste my schlong, a mammoth 15 inches long. My schlong. Oh my schlong. My schlong, my schlong, my schlong.

Please wouldn't do, nor would gunshots make a sound. Monkeys were born onto the spinning rock, there in the dark black void with a question and a thumb, to build and to dream and to kill and wonder why it is. Some were well hung, and some hung themselves as well. All of them only wanted to be heard, there in the dark black void all spat on and ignored, they would brush themselves off and get back out again to fight: 'Look at how fast I can juggle antelopes!' 'Look at how wise I am and how mature!' (there in the dark black void) 'I'm building little shapes, piling high, so high, casting shadows on the rest of you!' In roll the tanks to defend the monkey gold. Monkeys will die by thousands for fantasies, there is the dark black void so frightened and alone, bleeding now, dying here, to be free and understood and back home. And none of the monkeys would ever know why they're building and breathing, and why the pain would never leave, and why the killing goes on, and why or where they're going, in their little monkey towns, on the spinning rock, in the dark black void.

He's got no job. The days go by. The rent is late. Days pass on and every night he drinks until he can't remember what it was he did, and this is all he says: I don't know where to go anymore. She's got a job. The days go by, the rent is paid. Days pass on and every night she drinks until she can't remember what it was she did, and this is all she says: I don't know where to go anymore. And I don't blame them for going down. What's a person (in a world of black empty holes) to do? Where's the reason (when the people are black empty holes to you) to do anything?

Well me parents raped my sister and some gerbils eat their young, and there's people bleeding out of every pore until they die, yeah my arms and legs were severed and my penis broke in half, and that makes me a man, because I don't care about you and there's no reason that I should, and my pain's better than your pain just like I'm better than you, so don't cry about it, just take it all out on someone else, and that makes you a man, so baby don't you tell me that your wife died, no don't come crying to me.

I, the prince of extension chords, plugged things in in days of yore. Talked about throughout the land, with extension chord in hand. I am the extension prince.

Cover your skin and cover your eyes before you go and step outside and boil the water, sterilyze your hands. There's people places low and high, could blow the cities to the sky. It seems as though we're hopelessly fucked. But in the meantime just relax. Go back to work and pay your taxes. Go back home and stay inside and watch some sitcoms before you die. The extinction of the human race. This is how the world is run and there's nothing to be done. Go and buy yourself some clothes and try to not focus on those dead animals that line the street, babies born with giant heads and infants dying in their beds and air that's slightly hard to breath. Just do what all the others do. If they don't panic why should you? Oh well I know that it can be very frightening and I know that it can be very sad, but the world is how it is and you're just a bunch of fucking stupid kids. Mosquitos with West Nile disease, ecoli meat, STDs and cancer coming from the sun, droughts and floods and burning lands, a market noone understands and angry monkeys sitting at the helm. But God is watching you and me so choose your battles, have some tea...this is how the world is run and there's nothing to be done but sit back and wait for the extinction.

Fear of uncertainty and failure makes the world go 'round. We lock ourselves in misery and deny what we feel while desperately pretending that we're strong.

Family doesnít understand, theyíre talking babble, pushed it far away. Just like the neighbors, who knew who they were? I donít care, time to walk the dog. Just let me through and spare me all the bullshit. This lineís too slow. Why canít you watch the road? And I canít stand that fuckhead in the phonebooth. Yeah, heís whatís wrong with people nowadays. Noone listens to a word I say, but nothing matters anyway. Iíd like to lie down now. Gee Iíd love to care but thereís no time for games. I hate your shoes and everyone who wears them. That woman on the phone was awful cold. Childhood was fun but now Iím older and I learned how to survive: work like a tractor, donít look back, just move along through all the honking cars. Her taste is bad and heís so fucking stupid. I hate her voice and his dumb politics.

Who needs friends when youíve got fun and blowjobs? Who needs love when youíve got nutrasweet? You know lifeís a game of status and thereís many many toys, so keep on hiding in the corner jerking off. People like it when youíre entertaining. People like it when you give them praise. People like it when youíre always smiling. People like it when youíre full of shit.

I need someone to cherish, someone to live my life with, someone to wake up with beside me, someone to put my dong in, someone I can hold and have, someone who needs me to be thereÖI need someone in my life; I guess youíll do. Considering my options this is probably the best one, cause youíre kind of cute and we mostly get along, and youíre not very threatening, and you compliment my self-perceptions, and Iím horny as hell so I choose you.

Iím a pathetic deformation. Iím not fit to be human. And Iím not fit to live. Iím no good at anything and I look like a moron. Iím out of shape, Iím ugly and I smell. Everyoneís laughing at me. Iím not worthy of a kiss. Iím clumsy and Iím awkward and Iím dumb. Iím a booger. Iím a fart. Iím a smegma. Iím a hemorhhoid. Iím a stretchmark. Iím a mantit. Iím a pile of shit. So while you all are playing in the sunlight Iíll be hiding in the dirt where I belong.

I go out and I put on a show. I donít ever overstep my bounds. I come home and watch the game; yay yay. Brush my teeth and down to sleep I lay. And this is how itís meant to be and I know that Iím stable and Iím sane. I donít put my faith in anyone, and I know what is yors and what is mine. I donít think about war and poverty. I donít think of anyone but me. I donít have any real friends as all. But Iíve had contracts and Iíve had sex. Iíll just keep myself inside myself. I only exist in imagesÖbut Iím sane.

I'll sit alone in restaurants, I'll drink inside a room, I'll hug and kiss my piggy-bank, I'll order pay-per-view, I'll talk to myself all day, and masterbate the nights away, and I'll play solitaire and like it fine. All I need's in the mirror. No, I'll never need you. I go to work each day as the acquaintances walk by, I come home every night and watch Full House and Family Guy, I never needed noone else and won't until I die, cause I've got my shit together, and here's the reason why: because all I need's in the mirror. No, I'll never need you.

When I was young I used to cry, I used to scream. Everyone just seemed so cold to me, lying and leaving. And theyíd say give up on all your dreams; life ainít so hopeful as it seems. Give up on all your dreams and just be thankful youíre not dead. Years went by and I have grown. I have seen and I have shown and Iíve been kicked and Iíve been screwed and Iíve been used as food, while hearing give up on all your dreams, because people try and people fail and many folks wind up in jail and what goes up must come down and weíre all full of shit. So donít you listen to the dreamers. Donít you listen to the saints. If you take a leap youíre gonna fall. Donít be suckered by the lovers. Donít be suckered by the songs. Cause you ainít fucking anyone at all. So I say give up on all your dreams.

They could burn your flesh, they could rearrange your colon, they could have you drawn and quartered, you could be decapitated, they could slice your dingy slowly with a rusty carrot-peeler, so be happy they're only kicking your shins. They could slowly squash your eyeballs, they could rip out your fingers, they could pry apart your asshole, insert pins into your pussy, they could gradually kill you with rat poison in your tea, so be happy they're only kicking your shins. You know the world is filled with genocide and famine and disease, and it's not like we're all existing just to fill your needs. Yeah, life is filled with travesties, and everlasting pain. It's all a huge catastrophe and none of us complain. Cause while the world is burning we're safe in a routine, keep moving and consuming till we don't know what we mean. So if existential crisis and uncaring's got ya down, if you feel small and helpless as you walk around your town, if everyone just spits your way or tells you what to do, just suck it up and remind yourself that nothing was put here for you.

Another song is written. I cleaned the house again. I went to see a concert. I made another friend. I built another staircase. I fucked another whore. I'm always going somewhere. I'm always out for more. It's just an endless cycle. I never leave square one. Am I going somewhere? Or am I on the run? Keep striving to accomplish, fueled by boredom and pride, a doomed attempt at running from the pain I feel inside. Some say I've got a problem: imbalance in the brain, that there's two kinds of people: the happy and insane. But somehow I don't buy it. Emotions serve a cause. They're trying to convince me it's happy in their jaws. Drugs just dull the sadness, don't change what it's about, and when the problem's always there you can't just talk it out. I've heard there's a completeness, a stillness deep inside, but you can't stay forever, no it's just another ride. So let me fucking die. It's the only way. I've got my self-direction, but where demands a why. The answer's other people, but they're out getting high. Some say this pain and longing is all a search for God. Well I say if she's hiding he's probably a fraud. Some say the answer's money, but money can't buy me love, and greed is something that I hate too much to be a part of. Some say to just live simply, contemplative and calm, so I'll be picking flowers and they'll be dropping bombs. I know life could be different but that won't make it so. I know why there are problems but that won't make them go. Things may change in the future, but I'm alive today, where peace is just a pipedream, and love just falls away. They say death is too easy, that living makes us strong, that suicide's for cowards, but I know that they're wrong. Cause there's no use in living when there's no reason why, and there's nothing strong about it when you're just too scared to die.

Whatís another demagogue? Whatís another platform? Whatís another protest song? Whatís another book claiming that its contents hold the final answer? It all just blurs together as it buzzes round your head, so you turn and walk on by and live your lifeÖAnd in this great understanding you can sit around and wait to die in self-destructive freedom or monotonous maturity. Make sure to keep up the distractions, always blanketing the doubt, the childish or suicidal, useless and impractical side of us that must be kept down, hopefully forgotten and only discussed with nostalgia or psychiatrists.

Iíve got nothing left to say to you, all you people in the world. Turn away or size me up, pick a stigma and attach it; everything is filed away in your little categories. You donít have the time to hear or to try and understand it, running scared from what you know and from everything uncertain. You canít hear me anyway as you walk on to the slaughter, spitting on the passersby while they just return the favor.

Our love is like a merger between two companies and your make me feel good about myself. No I would never hurt you cause it isn't ethical and you might hurt me back. We'll spread our genes together. It's a reasonable trade. And you'll be quite convenient when I'm wanting to get laid.

Lois Lane loved it when Superman was super, and I love it when I get tits and twat. My parents didnít like when I was present, my teachers didnít like it when I fought. I spent my early years in wait for something, some way that I could feel like I exist, and then along can Slash and Duff and Axl, and suddenly I found what I had missed. The days were long with sweat and toil, the nights with jerking off. My future was awaiting me, atop a mighty loft, peering down from my penis; Iím gonna be the guy who does the thing. Peering down at my parents; Iíll show them Iím the guy who does the thing. And everyone will love me, a gift to all the world, and all the girls will fuck meÖIíll do it different than before and better, a rebel and a prophet all in one, a member of the genius penis genus, a member of the children on the run, a member of the hilltop dwellers?circus, a member of the powers who have won, a symbol of an act that makes you horny, a penis that is greater than the sun.

If we donít get out of here then weíll keep waiting to live. Whatís stopping us if not our fear to feel? If we canít get out of here then weíre just waiting to die. I can only tell you that I love you when Iím drunk; other times Iím scared youíll go awayÖpolitics and movie scenes and things that we both look down uponÖEveryone is poisoned and alone inside their minds, and they know not to cry when in a public place.

Keep on moving forward, filling up the space, building many monuments and throwing out the waste, and then when you stop walking and the flies have gone away you hear the silence that was all there ever was. Keep on moving onwards, filling up the days, reaching out for something in a thousand different ways, and then when you stop walking and the flies have gone away you hear the silence that was all there ever was. Just pass it off as nothing or as boredom, and find another trail that you can take. Just run another mile into nowehere, talking in your sleep while you're awake. Keep on running from the silence.

When it all tumbles down (this human race against itself) we'll be the cause. Fair enough. Only one way forward and nothing left to say. It's been a lively story but all things die someday. So goodbye all you bankers, goodbye all you kings, so long to the ice cream bars and all the stuff and things.

Well itís all I see and itís all I know so it must be all there is, so Iíve given up on myself and on my dreams cause thatís the way that it is. And somehow this is sanity: a chocolate covered drudgery denied. Just ride the bus and pretend that itís okay and try not to think too much. And itís sleep work eat sleep work eat sleep Ďtil the next nervous breakdown. A smileís on my face,; I donít really care, but I donít want to cause a fuss, and deep inside I donít have any faith at anything at all.

Everyoneís a victim as they lay the blame again, and everyoneís a victim as they beat you to the ground, and Iím the fucking victim in the lyrics to this song. This merry-go-round makes me want to puke. When the rich are starved and tortured, when old men are raped and killed, when the bully boys are bludgeoned, thatís when justice is fulfilled. Yes, the meek shall inherit and enshackle everyone, cause itís from victim to hero with the firing of the gun. So I will say Iím sorry for not knowing the rules that change with every person and donít get taught in school. So before I offend you by slipping on my tongue Iíll give myself a beating; itíll save you time and effort in the long run. What you thought you were doing wasnít what it was at all. Itís my perception of it; that it what weíll talk about. And donít you tell me otherwise, cause I know itís a lie, cause Iím the one whoís the victim and youíre the one who should die.

Someday youíre gonna die and you know itís true, so why not make the most of while youíre here? In the end itís nothing, but here and now the world is waiting for you. Weíre just a bunch of multi-pronged weird-ass things living in an insane world, wasting our lives in fear. The people who laugh or run when you show them something realÖwell you should really pity those sorry hopeless fucks cause theyíre all scared and helpless underneath the whole fa?de and noone really knows who they are.

Sometimes the ground drops out from under leaving you starving by the bed, and sometimes what we were told would last forever is gone with the rising of the moon. Nobody seems to care and nothing ever seems to last and you're just pushed around from day to day and every day's a struggle just keeping yourself alive and nothing ever works out as you planned, and if you wonder why watch channel 5 and clean the dishes again, and if you're feeling low you gotta go and buy yourself a new barrage of happiness. It seems you can't trust anyone but yourself and love is all about who's got control, and you've gotta be better or you'll be noone at all cause in the end it's only how you rank, but if you wonder why just watch channel 5 and clean the dishes again, and if you're feeling low you gotta go and buy yourself a new barrage of happiness. It's not so bad; you're the one with the problem.