Hanging Around
Rains keep coming, I keep running outsideIt seems fun and I ain’t dumb enough to try right
Can’t stop callingCatch me cause I’m fallingFriendly but I’m findingEverything appalling
Lie into the nightIt’s alrightLie into the nightI know it’s not right
The questions keep coming, crisis of conscience cross eyedCornering the market, covering the spark that won’t fly
All the warm breadAnd all my best friendsAll your wants wastedOn all the loose ends
Lie into the nightIt’s alrightLie into the nightI know it’s not right
We all get hungry hanging round a right nowThe taste ain’t bitter but I can do better than the next noun
Find a distractionAttracted without tractionDistance in the differenceFuckin’ 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 areasBut speaking on behalf of myself, I’d like to clear the air about some thingsLike 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 backYou come armed with sets of factsHot takes so unassailably correctAir melts at points they intersect
I do see what you meanYou rule the world from inside your own memeSpeech bubbles crowd around youEscape the earth under a word balloon
All of which is to sayI am hearing what you sayCrystal clear and plain as daySo much so I get a big headache
And by “headache” I mean surely a tumorA malignancy leaving very little room forLimited reserves of precious mental spaceResist, lest the rest gets displaced
If it were cancer it’d be California cancerThe kind of cancer for which the State of California demands there be an answer
Sheets are white and beets are redBypass the punchbowl and shit the bedAbandon all idiom ye who enter hereShrink 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 moveDancing to be polite
Dancing to be polite
Rock those extremitiesThat much is clear to meBut feet were made for fearHands are for holding beer
Dancing to be polite
This could be middle schoolPanhandle spring break poolLike 1999Even your wedding night
Dancing to be polite
I see you staying strongThe length of a Prince songSome partners grind their watchOthers check their crotch
Dancing to be polite
Terrible Art
I made terrible art after 9/11To never forget all those virgins in heavenBack then they’d cry if you just followed the letterI’m not ashamed to say my art never got any better
I made terrible art back in 2004A one-act play called “The Sorrows of Young Al Gore”“Here Bush Lies,” it was a rock opera scoreAnd something about John Kerry’s windsurfing board
I made terrible art about financial crisisCorporate greed and falling house pricesAnd then the party was on as if the Miley were CyrusIf only we saw the creeping onset of ISIS
I made terrible art after the ’16 electionAbout unbreakable ceilings and all that orange aggressionI could care less than to re-learn my lessonAnd 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 comeTo reveal unavoidable truths like so much unwanted hair
Odds are cold and hard; neutral, amoral and complicit in cosmic fraudNone 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 gameThus, 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 gamblingAbout which, it is simple: You can’t lose if you refuse to play
Odds are cold and hard; neutral, amoral and complicit in cosmic fraudBut 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 forLike “life in these times” is just an online storeAnd 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 unfurlThat’s why he only sung about Jessie’s girlDidn’t bother to ignore his friend and get her nameTo have and see and want is all the same
We look up and only see the fall of manLook down to think “Well, he’s done the best he can”And when we strain, we can barely make out what’s it forBut we squint ’cause the air’s so thick with all this metaphor
Like sad sacks looking guilty fishing payphones for changeHayseeds hazing hayseeds in this transient ageSome friends are midnight and some are eightThe 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 findAnd end up missing everything we’ve left behindIn the wake of good-and-bad and what’s in betweenLeaving us open to fuck up everything royally
And when we see billboards for buildings in areasRight enough to convince the right people to marry yaRemember, let’s aim high but punch below our weightBecause 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 skateIn any sort of animal herdBut you can at least politely skirtThat steady stream of commutersThese lovely, competent folksTheir lanyards dangling work IDsPressed into dutyServing this economy
You certainly cannot skateOn any sort of wheelWhat would the Christmas card list thinkIf we somehow got you killed?That’s not to kill the joyStay-at-home or say don’t botherDon’t blame the boyHe spent a lot of time with a neurotic father
Everybody loves Mr. KiddoHe’s Mr. KiddoHe’s Mr. Kiddo
Everybody loves Mr. KiddoHe’s Mr. KiddoHe’s Mr. Kiddo
Shopkeepers gush and the world’s made gladTo thine own self stay badHe’s ostentatious dad
Everybody loves Mr. KiddoHe’s Mr. KiddoHe’s Mr. Kiddo
Elderly neighbors trust he knows just what to doTo thine bad self stay trueBig bumptious kangaroo
Weird Uncle
Hunting the worst bars on the best streetsWhere anyone’s fair game, clickbait, or fresh meatAll wandering eyes, a lingering stareDecades 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 upOne dayIf you’re luckyOne day
Get a real job and eat lunch at your deskSome souped-up salad, sometimes overly dressedDressed agency casual, mostly in blackWasting time trading gifs with recent college grads
Years later, overlook partners perfectly fineOverrate yourself and underestimate timeUnmade double bed, no holiday cards or kidsGod, parents never understand and they never did
Stay on this course and Darwin’s mandate is deadEmbrace the Punnett square; go on a date, man, get outta your headYou 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 daySomeone’s weird uncle
Outta Sight
I’m not confused by youI just don’t know what to doI don’t have the rightDon’t see, I’m out of sight
I’m not amused by youFeeling used, lighting my fuseNow I’m up all nightUp and too tired to fightWell alright
Won’t take me out at nightWon’t see me, I’m out of sightWell alright
Out of sight, out of mindWe might make it if it takes some tryingThe truth turns a man into goldGood riddance, good night you’ve been soldWell alright, good night you’ve been soldWell alright, good night you’ve been sold