| Disc 1 | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1. |
| 2:54 | 
|
|||
|
I had a lovely brunch with Jesus Christ.
He said, "two words about inanity: fundamental Christianity," yeah. The food was very nice. But then He had to go and die for my sins and stick my ass with the check. "Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy," (go near an open window and that'll be the end of me). I bowed before the avatar. He said, "the problem's clear to me: you never got over Morrissey," yeah. I said "well, right you are!" "It's so much harder to be underfed than under-understood," he said. "Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy," (go near an open window and that'll be the end of me). I went to see KIP WINGER! He said, "in my day we knew how to party; bands today, c'mon, not hardly." He had a back-up singer (doo doo doo doo). He said, "the metal scene is a disgrace, but I ain't got no dog in that race!" "Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy," (go near an open window and that'll be the end of me). Don't despair, your mother loves you. Don't be proud because she has to. Don't despair, your mother loves you. Don't be proud, she's gotta. Just because it's meta doesn't make it any betta! |
||||||
| 2. |
| 4:31 |
|
|||
|
This road leads to Rome,
That road leads to ruin. I'm all up in the madding crowd, The general's been screwin' us around. The land's no longer arable (the farmhands all feel terrible) -- A river red with the rebel blood To sweep us off our feet, do you remember? Humility on parade humility on parade The welcome was overstayed Humility on parade (oh, let it run, let it run, let the river run). The remnants of the leisure class will crumble! Smug bastards will be humbled! Forcible miscegenation! No bow ties, no invitations! Goodbye to all of that... You gotta look the prisoners in the eyes; A boldness in their stare you might not recognize As you struggle to recall your names: Family and Christian family and Christian Family and Christian! Untenable position! Here comes the inquisition! ("oh, it'll come it'll come it'll surely come!") Humility on parade humility on parade The welcome was overstayed Humility on parade... I am the mustard on the wedding dress, The weevil in the watercress. I lost the language, I confess. Beyond the false horizon lies the Rising up, the rising up. The rising up, oh let it come, let it come, let it come and run, no. Rising up, oh it'll come, and come, come, surely come! |
||||||
| 3. |
| 3:36 |
|
|||
|
Saint Leonard touched a Philistine --
A sacred tongue, a perfect rhyme -- But even he was "not much nourished By modern love." So I told her that everything she does is divine And she replied with a blank expression (an object lesson in making me feel benign) Then whispered, "Independence and indifference are the wings which allow the heart to fly." Feelings I have had too often, Still no plan in place To soften the inevitable blow (the rituals we know). And with the right revolting piety of tone, The word "freedom" Can make you want to lock yourself In a deep dark dungeon. But everybody follows pleasure, Everybody gets somewhere. I swear, I wish I could be less aware... Now it's absolutely clear to me That solitude is not the same as singularity, But that's not why I'm lonely. No, that's not why I'm lonely. |
||||||
| 4. |
| 3:30 |
|
|||
|
Not another existential cowboy,
And no more "California champagne". Not another saddle tramp -- Sick, sore, lonely, and out of place, Cryin' in his coffee ice cream (come on). Edith cannot fix another engine, Nor paint another face on a rubbercan clown (woo woo woo). She takes another temp job, But in her secret heart she rides! She's just a sad sweetheart of the rodeo (awooooo-ooooo) Not an urban legend now Sad sweetheart of the rodeo (awooooo-ooooo). Give it a rest, give it a rest, give it a bad night's sleep. Norman says that you should take a Valium (or maybe something stronger) 'Cause he doesn't understand, uh, How you get so excited watching "the lusty men". "The Marlboro man died of cancer And he wasn't a rocket scientist when he was healthy." ha ha ha. She took one last gulp of soft city condescension And blasted off from his little launch pad to parts west. Sad sweetheart of the rodeo (awooooo-ooooo) Not an urban legend now Sad sweetheart of the rodeo (awooooo-ooooo). (lonesome cowboy Bill, where are you?) (wooo-ooo-ooo) Sad sweetheart of the rodeo (awooooo-ooooo) Not an urban legend now Sad sweetheart of the rodeo (awooooo-ooooo). (Awoooo-ooooo-oooo-ooo-ooo) |
||||||
| 5. |
| 4:13 |
|
|||
|
One awkward conversation can ruin my whole day
In the company of strangers with some vulgar shit to say. Cocktail hour social like an obsolete machine Spitting anecdotes and boring jokes from someone else's spleen. And I always seem to miss the point completely (and here I am again). Culture baron train wreck and it's hard to look away But I'm yawning like a kid in a carpet store. Refusing to be interesting is a funny way to go But I guess you know your business -- You're the one who makes the windstorm blow. And I always say I miss the point completely (and here I am again, here I am again). And I always wish you'd behave more discreetly; It's kind of puzzling, But you're falling into place (it's what you do best). You're a popular opinion, You're an easy thing to foster, You're an ostentatious tourist, You're a predictable posture, You are a record left on the dashboard, You're a nasty little hang. You miss the point completely I get the point exactly You miss the point completely I get the point exactly No you miss the point completely No I get the point exactly No you miss the point completely No you miss the point-a! |
||||||
| 6. |
| 2:42 |
|
|||
|
Ooh ooh. Ooh ooh. Ooh ooh. Ooh ooh.
I have a stinger; I am a honey bee. I am a razor; please cut your wrist with me. You're supercommon; you flaunt your pedigree. You're clear as water, oh whoa ah oh. (alright!) I'm already spinning in my grave. (ooo-ooo-ooo) I'm already spinning in my grave. (ooo-ooo-ooo) Oh whoa ah oh. I am a subject of your documentary. You have a question? I am the third degree. I am authentic; I'm authenticity (I'm no such thing-a), oh whoa ah oh. (C'mon!) I'm already spinning in my grave. (ooo) I'm already spinning in my grave. (ooo) Oh wa ah oh. la la la la. (Oh, it's a damn shame) I'm already spinning in my grave. (ooo) I'm already spitting on your grave. (ooo) Oh whoa ah oh! Already spinning in my grave. Already spinning in my grave. |
||||||
| 7. |
| 3:41 | 
|
|||
| 8. |
| 4:43 |
|
|||
|
Drive across the country, tell your story walking,
No one's keeping you captive, in the town that let you down, so sorry. Blame it on the television, blame it on the company, Don't blame it on the fundamental fact, that no one owes you something. I've come about my share, I only want what's fair, Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm not greedy, Like everybody else, I wanna pay my dues, I only want someone to tell me who to make the check out to. Maybe we could run away and start a little repertory movie house or something. She said, "sorry but I think you might be just projecting but here's the dough." Pike Street to Park Slope, Brooklyn. A community of dabblers, who are vain and fond of biting backs, We hate it when our friends become successful, And a different school, whose energies are spent evading income tax, And silicone enhancements by the breastful. Maybe we could run away and start a little repertory movie house or something." She said, "sorry but I think you might be just projecting on to me. Why don't you try LA?" Pike Street to Park Slope, Brooklyn. Well when you like something, it's an opinion But when I like something, it's a manifesto, Pomposity is when you always think you're right Arrogance is when you know. Maybe we could start a little independent repertory movie house or something. She said, "Sorry but I think you might be just protecting your investment Or else assigning blame." Pike Street to Park Slope, Brooklyn. |
||||||
| 9. |
| 2:55 |
|
|||
| 10. |
| 6:08 |
|
|||
|
Slow to marry, swift to die,
We leave disasters where they lie, I know these lines look crooked on paper, But I swear I got it straight in my head, And if you're looking for somebody to blame, I recommend the dead, I recommend the dead, 'Cause they never answer back. Skinny dipping in the lake, I got the itch, I drank the wake, Could somebody please hand me a towel?, And now we're up on molehill mountain, Scraping coins out of the fountain, With a retinue of dirty old young, young men again. But when I get back from Nashville, I'm renting a room in the loyalty building, I'm sure that the prospects are sound, In the event of calamitous circumstance, Or great good fortune, There must be a reason, there must be a plan. A palace in receivership, A jester with a busted lip, A catalogue of crooked answers, We've all heard about the rapist nun, She pulled a switch on everyone, The altar boys are not having fun, And the papacy is drawing up the papers behind closed doors. But in the meanwhile, I'm renting a room in the loyalty building, I'm sure that the prospects are sound, In the event of calamitous circumstance, Or great good fortune, There must be a reason, there must be a plan. |
||||||
| 11. |
| 4:40 |
|
|||
|
And you can't see yourself in the mirror any more,
And you're alone and green and cold as the sea, And if you go down I will follow you underground, And you can't close your eyes any more, And you can't dream. Just because you fucked up doesn't mean it's ok, To stand around pulling down the roof with your hands, Hoping nobody notices, But if you go far I will fill your mouth with the sour taste; And you can't hear yourself any more; And you can't sing... What makes you think I won't ridicule you? What makes you think I'll avoid you? What makes you think I'll steal your fingerprints? What makes you think I will forget this? What makes you think I won't hurt you? What makes you think I won't cut you? And you just bleed for eternal time, And we will confess like a sea, compressed. You need me. And if you go far I will fill your mouth with the sour taste, And if you rile I will meet you there on a higher plane, And if you go down I will bury you underground. |
||||||
| 12. |
| 3:29 |
|
|||
|
When you base your whole identity,
On reaction against somebody, It's the same as being in. I tend to forget when I drink, I'm doing it again I think, A hand to hold, an ego to flatter, Cause you were the wine skin, I was the bladder. Time passes; events fall away (I don't think they'll hurry). hurry up! I'm blacking out: high on the vapor; 'Cause I was the typo; You were the Liquid Paper. Talk it over, talk it, overtalk it, The answer's still the same, It's discontent, humiliation, 'Cause you were the theme and, I was the variation. Try to take a less dramatic course of action, This attraction-introspection- Diction predilection, Is breaking my heart again, Breaking my heart again. |
||||||
|
