I was born philosophizing. Nothing glazed or compromising. Don’t sugar-coat it or jelly-fill it. Just let me have the cake. I took off down southern roads. Found myself in Mexico. Met Neal Cassady, who fancied me, And the two of us got baked. He went berserk on stolen cars While I mused on distant stars. He said, “YES YES YES! LOVE AND JAZZ.” Meanwhile, I melted in the sun. Soon we parted ways. I met a trucker on the interstate. He didn’t say a word and I felt absurd, Just rambling out west for fun. So I headed on back home. People wanted wisdom from the road. I said, “I don’t know. I’m just a donut hole,” And I felt very much alone. SO I made my way to church, A cathedral built on merch. Money lenders in this temple got me raging to the bone. (Jesus doll, $9.99. Two for one wafers and wine. Oh boy!, what a deal!) Well they all wanted commentary. I had none, but I had stories. They said, “None of that. We got film for that. Just tell us what to think. So I made a remark on love, How I thought that it’s enough. Well they gazed at me so emptily I had to find myself a drink. DROWNING I couldn’t find me no direction, Just a useless want of destruction. Made my first tour in a distant war that was still very much in vogue. Soon we mad e the headlines. Killed a foreign general with some landmines. They threw a party, but I felt sorry, And they could tell I was a rogue. Headed back to suburban sprawl. Broke my arm in a drunken brawl. Chalk it up to post traumatic stress. I’m blaming Walmart for it all. Then I felt this need to drive. Don’t know where, don’t know why. But when I hear the tock of a ticking clock I get to thinking I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die. I want music. I want donuts. I want love. I want peace on earth and hippy shit like that. Kthnxby.

Not a Moment to Spare (In the Check-Out Line) I don’t mind, killing time. Just standing in line. Just waiting to die. Not a moment to spare, moment to spare, moment to spare, In the check-out line. Not a moment to spare, moment to spare, existential despair, In the check-out line.

If you wanna play a game, Make it something soft. I don’t want to play slap jack. It hurts my feelings The way you get competitive As though it matters. It doesn’t matter at all. When can I come throw rocks Outside your bedding room? I’ve got a boombox and the moon. I’ll play an 80s tune. Then you’ll scoff and turn away I know that you’re embarassed. But it’s the good kind and you’re smiling. It ain't broke, but you're set on fixing it. Now I'm starting to get upset at your restlessness. You think I'm too complacent, just an idiot. But you never learned how to be happy. I read another funny book With a bunch of real big words That learned and then forgot. I guess I’m stupid Cause every time I write a song The sentences run-on And I always feel like dancing. You never say just how you feel, You just leave clues and signs. I’ve got too much self-respect to act so dignified. Don’t you know we’re specks of dust On a tiny rock in space, And no one really gives a shit? It ain't broke, but you're set on fixing it. Now I'm starting to get upset at your restlessness. You think I'm too complacent, just an idiot. But you never learned how to be happy. If you wanna play a game, Make it something soft. I don’t want to play slap jack. It hurts my feelings The way you get competitive As though it matters. It doesn’t matter at all.

Yatta Yatta

ell all the apostles-they're sitting in swings saying "i'd sell off my savior for a set of new rings and some sandles with the style of straps that cling best to the era" so all of the businessers in their unlimited hell where they buy and they sell and they sell all their trash to each other but they're sick of it all and they're bankrupt on selling and all of the angels they'd sell off yer soul for a set of new wings and anything gold they remember the people they loved their old friends and i've seen through'em all seen through'em all and seen through most everything all the people you knew were the actors all the people you knew were the actors well, i'll go to college and i'll learn some big words and i'll talk real loud goddamn right i'll be heard you'll remember all the guys that said all those big words he must've learned in college and it took a long time i came clean with myself i come clean out of love with my lover i still love her loved her more when she used to be sober and i was kinder

You always laugh, At really bad jokes. Have you realized yet all your friends know it’s a hoax? You went to college, Didn’t learn a thing. Mocking all their learning, but too scared to sing. I know it’s cooler that way, But despondency is a drain. What’s the point in winning a loser’s game? You start gentrifying prison, Lobbying for decomposition. Just another wet blanket in the pouring rain. Well here comes Fitzgerald, Old money America, Sipping gin on yachts and writing with mascara. He’s gone numb From small talk and alcohol 500 texts a day but never a call. When affection strikes to the core, And the sentimental people leave ya bored Start looking for something profound to ignore. Well the music went Rococo. Big mouths and little dreams. You don’t know where I stand but you know what I mean. You can’t find, Peace of mind. Well maybe that’s cause you’re not really tryin’.

So runs the world away from your shallow grave. If you're gonna bury yourself you better do it right. If you don't want to be saved keep digging till your shovel breaks. If you don't want to be saved keep digging till your shovel breaks. Give me all your loving. Give me all your hope. I'll proceed to crush them between my fingers of stone. The worms in your ears might actually be brains. See the way you're going you're going to stay With a tragic idea of the American way. In a beautiful summer we tend to forget the rain. Give me all your loving. Give me all your hope. I'll proceed to crush them between my fingers of stone.