Recalculating

No Banter Lyrics

Hanging Around

Rains keep coming, I keep running outside
It seems fun and I ain’t dumb enough to try right

Can’t stop calling
Catch me cause I’m falling
Friendly but I’m finding
Everything appalling

Lie into the night
It’s alright
Lie into the night
I know it’s not right

The questions keep coming, crisis of conscience cross eyed
Cornering the market, covering the spark that won’t fly

All the warm bread
And all my best friends
All your wants wasted
On all the loose ends

Lie into the night
It’s alright
Lie into the night
I know it’s not right

We all get hungry hanging round a right now
The taste ain’t bitter but I can do better than the next noun

Find a distraction
Attracted without traction
Distance in the difference
Fuckin’ up my fractions

I Just Googled Myself

I just Googled myself and discovered there is an amazing number of movies that have been made about me: comedies, romantic comedies, thrillers, dramas, documentaries and I have no clue just how many statuettes I must have helped these people win but the number’s gonna be astonishing

I just stumbled upon a top 50 list about myself; it was a remarkable compendium of literature about me: and not even pulp, but actual literature, like classics, literary fiction, novellas, and entire collections of poetry and short stories

I just Wikipediaed myself and learned there are so, so many songs directly or indirectly about me in every genre, across all of the eras, including by not only Bob Dylan himself but even by Bob Dylan’s own son

I may not be the most loquacious or well spoken of all the metropolitan statistical areas
But speaking on behalf of myself, I’d like to clear the air about some things
Like for example, when you insinuate I am “a character in and of itself”
I believe that to a certain extent denies me my proper agency

California Cancer

Fully prepared to walk this back
You come armed with sets of facts
Hot takes so unassailably correct
Air melts at points they intersect

I do see what you mean
You rule the world from inside your own meme
Speech bubbles crowd around you
Escape the earth under a word balloon

All of which is to say
I am hearing what you say
Crystal clear and plain as day
So much so I get a big headache

And by “headache” I mean surely a tumor
A malignancy leaving very little room for
Limited reserves of precious mental space
Resist, lest the rest gets displaced

If it were cancer it’d be California cancer
The kind of cancer for which the State of California demands there be an answer

Sheets are white and beets are red
Bypass the punchbowl and shit the bed
Abandon all idiom ye who enter here
Shrink down to nothing and disappear

Dancing To Be Polite

You want to see my moves?
You mean my one big move?
Read: like my only move
Dancing to be polite

Dancing to be polite

Rock those extremities
That much is clear to me
But feet were made for fear
Hands are for holding beer

Dancing to be polite

This could be middle school
Panhandle spring break pool
Like 1999
Even your wedding night

Dancing to be polite

I see you staying strong
The length of a Prince song
Some partners grind their watch
Others check their crotch

Dancing to be polite

Terrible Art

I made terrible art after 9/11
To never forget all those virgins in heaven
Back then they’d cry if you just followed the letter
I’m not ashamed to say my art never got any better

I made terrible art back in 2004
A one-act play called “The Sorrows of Young Al Gore”
“Here Bush Lies,” it was a rock opera score
And something about John Kerry’s windsurfing board

I made terrible art about financial crisis
Corporate greed and falling house prices
And then the party was on as if the Miley were Cyrus
If only we saw the creeping onset of ISIS

I made terrible art after the ’16 election
About unbreakable ceilings and all that orange aggression
I could care less than to re-learn my lesson
And it’s clear as glass upon further reflection: I make terrible art!

We make terrible art

Dare To Dream Big

Son, young son, dear boy the time has come
To reveal unavoidable truths like so much unwanted hair

Odds are cold and hard; neutral, amoral and complicit in cosmic fraud
None or never the less: they’ll dare you to dream big

Now a word about claw games: no one in the history of the world ever conquered the claw game
Thus, all the dusty shit languishing in the bins

And now, if I may, move on to the lottery and the inherent immorality of state-sponsored gambling
About which, it is simple: You can’t lose if you refuse to play

Odds are cold and hard; neutral, amoral and complicit in cosmic fraud
But who are any of us to tell you not to dream big?

What We’re Looking For

We only look for what we’re looking for
Like “life in these times” is just an online store
And the feeling it gives to find that great big “X”
Is enough, no need to dig for what we expect

To find once we plant and let the flag unfurl
That’s why he only sung about Jessie’s girl
Didn’t bother to ignore his friend and get her name
To have and see and want is all the same

We look up and only see the fall of man
Look down to think “Well, he’s done the best he can”
And when we strain, we can barely make out what’s it for
But we squint ’cause the air’s so thick with all this metaphor

Like sad sacks looking guilty fishing payphones for change
Hayseeds hazing hayseeds in this transient age
Some friends are midnight and some are eight
The fact we think we’re gods, and god is good, and god is great!

So ask me, What if you were right?
And I’ll say, “Darling, let’s see wonderful tonight”

See, we end up seeing only what we want to find
And end up missing everything we’ve left behind
In the wake of good-and-bad and what’s in between
Leaving us open to fuck up everything royally

And when we see billboards for buildings in areas
Right enough to convince the right people to marry ya
Remember, let’s aim high but punch below our weight
Because Life is Good, and we are great

So ask me, What if you were right?
And I’ll say, “Darling, let’s see wonderful tonight”

Everybody Loves Mr. Kiddo

You certainly cannot skate
In any sort of animal herd
But you can at least politely skirt
That steady stream of commuters
These lovely, competent folks
Their lanyards dangling work IDs
Pressed into duty
Serving this economy

You certainly cannot skate
On any sort of wheel
What would the Christmas card list think
If we somehow got you killed?
That’s not to kill the joy
Stay-at-home or say don’t bother
Don’t blame the boy
He spent a lot of time with a neurotic father

Everybody loves Mr. Kiddo
He’s Mr. Kiddo
He’s Mr. Kiddo

Everybody loves Mr. Kiddo
He’s Mr. Kiddo
He’s Mr. Kiddo

Shopkeepers gush and the world’s made glad
To thine own self stay bad
He’s ostentatious dad

Everybody loves Mr. Kiddo
He’s Mr. Kiddo
He’s Mr. Kiddo

Elderly neighbors trust he knows just what to do
To thine bad self stay true
Big bumptious kangaroo

Weird Uncle

Hunting the worst bars on the best streets
Where anyone’s fair game, clickbait, or fresh meat
All wandering eyes, a lingering stare
Decades from a beer gut, bad taste, and gray hair

Moved out west, to a city so liveable,
Insufferably liberal (made me so miserable)
Ignore the elites, make art for the throngs!
Remember pipe dreams explode like pipe bombs

Then you wake up
One day
If you’re lucky
One day

Get a real job and eat lunch at your desk
Some souped-up salad, sometimes overly dressed
Dressed agency casual, mostly in black
Wasting time trading gifs with recent college grads

Years later, overlook partners perfectly fine
Overrate yourself and underestimate time
Unmade double bed, no holiday cards or kids
God, parents never understand and they never did

Stay on this course and Darwin’s mandate is dead
Embrace the Punnett square; go on a date, man, get outta your head
You understand you still drink midweek, wear Vans, and play in band?
Believe me: if you were a parent, I promise, then you’d understand

Thank god I woke up one day
Someone’s weird uncle

Outta Sight

I’m not confused by you
I just don’t know what to do
I don’t have the right
Don’t see, I’m out of sight

I’m not amused by you
Feeling used, lighting my fuse
Now I’m up all night
Up and too tired to fight
Well alright

Won’t take me out at night
Won’t see me, I’m out of sight
Well alright

Out of sight, out of mind
We might make it if it takes some trying
The truth turns a man into gold
Good riddance, good night you’ve been sold
Well alright, good night you’ve been sold
Well alright, good night you’ve been sold