all rise up he has risen bow to his glory hail his vision is this the man we worshipped so intently? there's murder in his eyes thought we'd be safe from the rapture here's your second coming as blood fills up the skies no victories for the believers thought to preach the truth instead spread violence and bigotry in the name of everyone other than thee whiter clouds bring dangerous game cause of sorrow like moths to a flame play into it lay your tired arms walk into it take your wild charms and succumb

de j'amnesia when the word stops when the ink spills when the pen drops when the thought kills it's not new or iginal everything's been done before make yourself lightheaded trying to be the next genius it's impossible it can't be done so embrace it I guess imitation over art give up and pander to an image

arrange the trees like so forth in a ring echo through the forest like a bell polar intervention makes it sting with no injury or blood loss that you can tell kid gets coached by a stranger learn another sport live in your front yard today build another fort do whatever it is you do I'll hold the mirror angle it towards the sky make the sun clearer twenty mile jog through life it's daylight horror if you need to look behind I'll hold the mirror David's star sets over winter sun blazes like a summer heat in March paint the rocks with beautiful hearts out of sync the metronome needs fixing but it's not the only one you lost your sight to a blessing juxtaposed in curse you hid behind a curtain to use it as a gauze could have been worse do whatever you're going to do I'll hold the mirror cold inside the shade wet on the burner potholes make your sunroof let the light in when you need to drop the grind I'll hold the mirror

little rodent on a wheel superhero on a timer feel no pressure rise until my drive expires you wonder when I'll tire maybe I should have burned out a little faster don the crown of fools a righteous bastard I find no peace in it can't tell if it's fabric or blood but I'm not sounding alarms I'm not awaiting a flood there should be cause for concern but for now I'm burned and too fogged up to learn expertise is plenty but overshadowed by character there's a lot on my plate that I'm ready to take before they throw me back as a court jester when I'm gone, don't remember me and as the curtain calls and the actress falls I'm not a leading man what is there left to embrace than empty lives to chase with these holes in my hands?

ocean breeze on old sheets watch the waves crash over the beach thought you'd want one more good day I'll make it up to you even when there's nothing you could do in our finest dressed let's lie down I need to rest it's such a bittersweet ending not in the cards our plans were made by our forced hands with this junk dealt make the most of it take the sun in before we turn in for the night we did everything right so long to everything wrong we did our best we lay to rest

in a chain of victories not everything can be a winner when you don't fly make the misses matter in a spiral of webs not everyone can be a survivor electric fate face to face with Mrs. Matter when you slip off the chain does it hit you the same? terror is a cycle of learning the eyes of defeat on an icy retreat the smell of electricity burning the sky opens up to let you in gone are the fears you'll never win and a new world begins losing Mrs. Matter

to be discovered lighter than air too passionate to really care there's no one I want "more than you" is nothing to draw a straighter line not today, not ever not in any point in time there's no one I want what is this "love" I hear of? a fiction to me stone cold in a heat wave or a widespread disease there's no one I want to spend one life with one person a futile exchange most end before the one lives do but no one finds it strange

through all times and cultures, little has remained so constant but of expression, one form has persisted above all it takes no words and no understanding of the language and anyone can recognize its presence, ever growing but it's not universal some don't make the connection as shyer voices beg to scream one can only dream please stop dancing to claim it a nuisance would be equal to a burned book I know much better than allude to world peace where it's ignored but even those who look like me have sought to integrate it and where most find it pleasure, I expect a stressful chore cause it's not universal and I wish not be expected to perform this ritual tradition be damned, with all due respect please stop dancing

there's a flag hanging over our bodies bodies hanging over our land still we pray for god's hand to please protect us there's a right way and a wrong way wrong way goers say they're right take their seats at the table cutting legs off of chairs there's a cold wind killing the unprepared how could you ever take a warning on such short notice and survive that's the way it is, they say and it will never change, for sure they shrug but say it can't be improved cause this way keeps despondents from knocking down their doors there's a spectre over the Western world the one ten miles from the lands we robbed sometimes overlapping one over one there's a spectacle of hypocrisy "they're wasting time watching movies that couldn't have been made if we hadn't stepped in to fund them" they'd send in the army to produce new entertainment propaganda on a plasma screen the kind of abject horror you see in your dreams I wish it was a dream that's the way it is, they say and it will never change, for sure by grabbing proper dissidents and throw them on billboards to flame out the core that's the way it is, they say and it will never change, for sure they shrug but say it can't be improved cause this way keeps despondents from knocking down their doors

I paint morality plays on my walls and look at them every day to have fruitful arguments with myself I write scriptures, give them melodies to sing and bless importance to a sylph, who knows my name in documentaries they portray mental illness with fervent belief in a god so am I fated to walk Daniel's path one day? who says two are connected at the rib, this isn't Adam and Eve hold my chalice while I grieve I dream that my future loses all to faith and I'll be like Middle Age artists wasting their talents for a self-constructed hierarchy in life and death we are portrayed by souls with investments to return winged shareholders at the gates with our eyes in an urn leave us left to die talking to god

blue woke in the middle of the night he walked to the nearest house he wondered as he picked up every stick on the ground and sharpened them into fashionable blades what his purpose was he thinks here's a house larger than mine they still have wreathes on their windows their garage is open they have 80 board games he was once a saint of sorts to many he meant a lot he wore blue he put on his uniform and rang the doorbell heroes make the best villains a tired father answers the door and the man's questions he lets the blue man in the blue man looked around this humble abode humble being a figure of speech they were clearly proud of themselves they had been to many places they had worked for many years their children had many trophies look at me with deadened eyes and tell me this is the dream tell me there's still a dream the blue man found nothing he was in that moment hollow as he raised his arms there is no family heroes are the best villains

it feels an evil crawling up the brain to take control of hope with anger sharks circled round the drain and everybody else thinks it's just you so no one ever steps in to pull you back through is art a futile move? I doubt it ever changed the world but this is all I've built and it's all I'll ever be but everybody else thinks that's just me and I don't disagree but I'll never step in to pull myself back through

foot over other meat in a line you go 1 2 turn and step over the line it's not poetry it's just behavior and in controlling it you make yourself look better don't move if your agency is important to you you'd know not to do is this a solo or diversion but I can't look away entranced, enamored under her brilliant rays I want nothing than to dance for her in her court for her crown and never step over the line is this a solo or diversion I don't care, I think I've converted

when all direction's lost she turns to the road makes peace with the bone-dry savannah there's nowhere else to go war travels in proudest defeatists and she's given up her world for a sky alone of no clouds and no sun baby's on the run no gangs or silver ballrooms safety among none when all direction's lost she turns to the world makes peace with the abyss she's pinned down as her knees hit the ground as she escapes, her face goes scarlet clearing an invisible target baby's going, gone

awards for con men who say they've saved the world / by feigning generosity experience takes hold over emotion / in superhero costumes what we need is more not less they say / see they were right about the future and we should listen to them only / because they knew they could build it patience is key when you listen to me it's only 2 or 3 more years of waiting like Noah's Ark, it's gonna rain, and float you up to the top of the flood with fools watching, nodding their clearly inferior heads but all of the sewage still pools at the bottom / they're off to the top you stay at the bottom market to heart and they'll put down their arms / we swear it's surely worked before co-opt the messages that can be watered down / then sell it to children get them when they're young and they'll think we're heroes / build the loyalty early never pass down the messages we wrote out of the books / what they don't know can hurt them if they do not know / they will not speak they will not notice / how much we take if no one learns / then no one shares if no one hopes / then no one dreams distract them with / good acting deeds if no one sees / then no one bleeds

everyone says it's coming on everyone seems to think that when the 0 became 1 the evil was done the red sea parted to bear blue waves to welcome up the hero who saves the rich and prosperous evil's never done but it's a new-ew year a true new year to celebrate cause it's a new new year a new year you could never hate never hate everyone's glad it's over now everybody's discussing why this year will be different but never explain how surely some things will be replaced same shit with a different face and it's not even that different we don't need to cut to the chase because we've always been there but it's a new-ew year a never need to contemplate why 0 was in fear but 1 will be so great and need no change need no change you'll never change you'll never fucking change

what's it like to lose to time to never survive creation beating the clock, easy it's not a relic of an old world that progress forgot to be anti-aging arms locked cheering for the bargain bin anti-aging anti-ancient neutral passage pro-forever accolades you never got (anti-aging) didn't hold and they forgot (anti-ancient) tied to time irrelevant (anti-aging) nostalgic and expedient (for easy profits) exploited for context you couldn't affect (anti-aging) you don't hold the rights so you'd never reject (anti-aging) into the future nobody would think (anti-aging) one thing is eternal and it's how much you'll drink (to forget, be anti-aging)

there's toxic waste down at the watering hole it'd be a lot safer there if it wasn't so cold but with nowhere else to go we all pile up into the same location all make the same pained observations with no effects to show an opportunity presents itself as thinly veiled "back to normal" escape but when everyone pulled back the drapes it showed nothing had really changed because no one believes in moving forward to accept the dangers of staying the same

There’s been snow on the ground for a week and a half now It doesn’t seem like it’ll be going away just yet In fact it’s projected to snow a little more by the end of the week Which on the one hand is nice because last winter there was no snow And it provides a single-second sigh of relief from the impending global meltdown But on the other hand it’s really cold And I don’t love really hot weather but cold is worse Because cold has a lower threshold for being unbearable It’s not a common opinion among my friends though A bunch of them want to move to Vermont or Canada Just because they want an colder average temperature Also I think it’s because Canada is supposed to be more progressive than the United States Which isn’t hard to do, most countries are But at the end of the day it’s still a nation founded on racism and genocide And no amount of supposedly “democratic socialist” politicians can undo that in 4 years Or 5 if you’re in Canada It’s like the snow on the ground growing older It certainly doesn’t appear to be the same because of the dirt but it’s still the same snow That’s been sitting there for a week and a half now I’ve been writing for a while and I’m starting to burn out What most musicians would do is not write a song like this at all Or they’d write the lyrics first and then come up with a few chords So leave it to me to switch the order around But when I try to be a normal person, I just get bored So I’m effectively writing poetry in the warmest room in the house Okay maybe not but it sounded nice to say There’s only two chord progressions in the entire song And I played them enough to make it last five minutes So now I have nine verses and nine choruses to flourish And I’m worried since the lyrics are being written as prose That I’ll worry about this song for ages and will never be finished But if it does I’ll consider that a triumph Most artists couldn’t do something like this if they wanted They have labels to satisfy and agents to pay The expectations are higher for them so they dilute their sound And tailor it to whatever audience liked their first album And if they’re lucky they’ll have one song explode And in 2 years it’ll be all that anyone knows And they’ll live in the shadow of a singular moment And I’ve used the same word to start the last 5 lines of this song And that’s 6 right now, most says that’s overkill But for me it’s not enough, I couldn’t even hit 10 verses I’m stuck in the single digits, even though it’s not competition Yet I’ll wonder what other weird words I could have written Now, I may believe some music is awful and no one should hear it ever But having to break up over money is a fate worse than death Oh, the label doesn’t think your new record has a hit And you’re not me so you can’t just go write another one in a minute Sales bring expectation which brings a spotlight But it only stays on you if you get every note right You can’t change your sound unless your fanbase is stable And for most indie artists, they’re simply quite unable Now I may just be projecting, realistically this is what they like I don’t mean the constant overbearing sense of not being good But at least on a smaller level, you’d figure bands are doing what they want In the sense that if they don’t want to make pop, they’re not gonna Is this how Jeffrey Lewis writes his songs? Is name-checking too corny? Yes it is that’s why I don’t do it And I don’t sing about the pandemic directly Because in 5 years no one will give a shit about it and it’ll be out of date Music is art, that means it has to expire You have a one-minute window before you’re the target of hate But if you’re lucky your hate will draw people in That said it’s more likely you’re just not that good at all I went back and added this at the end so it’s not very good I needed a ninth verse and thought it should go here I should care but I don’t Being self-referential is rarely cool, just annoying But I’ll sacrifice being good if it means I’m never boring So in 27 years when all my friends are famous And I’m walking around Mount Laurel, NJ, cold and shameless People will point at the never-was, shouting and faithless Ranting “money is the death of art” bleeding on the pavement

to be fixed is not a realistic goal can't be done unless it's a lie to be finished isn't a truth but a missed connection they claim we're sad so they say we're blue then spread lies about what vaccines could do they wish us dead, we'll don red instead to be saved is a dangerous ideal it's meant to be lived with, not healed would you rather have a kid who's a little different than sick or dead

these bells won't sound so familiar in three months far lacking in taste and experience over and over with the same rants again body is proud of the mind's achievements but heart sits back like a crush still beating right on time too hard for a man my age bottled into silent rage tied myself to mature cage I still feel trapped in Dream High (dream high dream low) so much else to know loss in stereo age is a number in plain text and I feel much younger than the cards in my wallet say

you fell knowing wind in blowing through wings feathered came in weathered walked up no fly sleep tight don't die rescue keep you too soon miss you chariot my sweet Harriet take it like a martyr take it like a saint take it like a mother take it like the rain cardinal my sweet Carole chariot my sweet Harriet