My apologies to Temple Of The Dog:

I don't mind stealin' grain
from the minds of the insane

I don't mind stealin' lead
from the mines of peckerheads

And I don't mind givin' head
to the junk of the undead

I'm gettin' orn'ry (I'm gettin' horny)
I'm gettin' orn'ry (I'm gettin' horny)

Some good stuff in this thread. I wish I could write words like these.

Yeah, we are a regular bunch of Dylans all up in this piece.

More proof:

Never trust a dude that buys a beard trimmer.
Never look the meth man in the mouth.
And though i'm sure of its full of nice people.
I still am glad i didn't grow up in the south.

This came to me in the shower yesterday:

You are no revolutionary, you are no true romantic
You are no warrior of the post modern world
You just smell like shit

Alas we have no "like" function for poasts. Robert Zimmerman would be proud.

Yeah, that bit has got a certain shade of gnar to it, Chris. I particularly like the way the last line ends it in a proper fashion.

Yeah, that one actually has a certain throwaway charm to it. I should write a song about my the rest of my rules some time.

This one reads like bad sXe hardcore lyrics:

The problem with the humans is the numbers.
The worry with the planet is its full.
The trouble with the place might be the lemmings,
Or it might be the cliff's magnetic pull.

The issue here is interlocking privates.
A secret sure that should have stayed subdued.
But it doesn't take a very clever primate
And now, we're screwed.

Like the fif line though. Would prolly work nicely in a very different sort of thing.

Making way through my fatty word/phrase database in search of lines compatible with some other stuff I have been working and found this:

Completely shitfaced, sabotaging your future wedding inside my brain
Sucker punching best man and groom and shoveling cake in my face
LSD found it's way in the punch bowl, lord what's that doing there
Everyone laughing and spinning in circles with the flower girls

It must have got really fucked up because I don't remember writing it, I like it for whatever reason. Sometimes I write in this silly sort of vein, though rarely, it is something I would like to more finely hone/gain the ability to access regularly.

A-ha, and this just popped out in a couple minutes a moment ago:

I've so very many, many things, have you seen my things?
Sheets of plate glass in frames to look at the trees
Drums, brass, things with strings and skeletal bat wings
A need to dabble in the trouble with girls with blue hair now fleeting

Heh, I am very fond of this one:

Redundant dilettante, sentimentally retarded
Witness me oppress myselves

My head is vomiting words this morning:

I had another dream again, so young and stripped of animosity
I was standing on the sidewalk of my childhood cul de sac
Fireworks and streamers screaming in celebration of your luminosity
There were mariachi bands marching up and down the block
None of us knew you, and you weren't even here
But all of us could feel you and we wanted you near

Bivouac your balls
Heaven sent from Odin's hall
Thirteen hectares to the
liter of kerosene

No god below or devil above
Sent to us with undying love
Planck's Constant
Trip the light forsaken

Napalm! Napalm!
Who wants to go to a donkey show?
H-bomb! H-bomb!
Get me a glass of that yellow snow.

The good Lord says you're screwed
Do it in the nude
Heaven forfend you forget your Depends
your tools are rather crude

A hundred square meters of cellophane
Get your ass in gear and get on the plane
Punch-drunk monkeys who can stand the pain
Get you ass in line and sing the refrain:

All God's children go to Hell
Transported there as if by magic spell
It's really quite nice if you can stand the smell
All God's children go to Hell

You are on a roll, snaxo.

Probably one of the more profound coupla bits I have written (in it's weird little way) that I can think of:

I think I need to grow up some more
Think I need to get hit by more cars
I think a lot of things, I think nothings

How'd you like to fuck a bearded skeleton, baby?
The human body truly is a disgusting thing
And mine is no exception

Works out nicely that they comprise what I think is probably the best thing I have made. I might hate my voice a good amount of the time, but I usually like my words.

Your freshman fifteen is making us all so sad
We're so goddamned shallow; diving guarantees certain death

All God's Children is now officially a country song. Were it not for the late hour I'd record it.

Chikatilo Chick-Fil-A
There's no bay near Mandalay
It's inland, motherfuckers, inland.
Tells me all that I need to know.

As per usual, going through my journals/phone/computer/shit and finding things I don't recall writing. Most of them are notgreat, but I like these for their crazyass vibes:

Landlord of lords, I'd like to terminate my lease
The brainspace you've provided is unfit for fertile living
There aren't even lights and there's massive leaks in the pipes
Termites in the framework, the walls; they creak and scream at night

As sure as bad dogs get put down, I'm gonna pull you so close that you stick to my tongue
And then I will assume the form of a bear and eat your pretty face

I'm running out of blood and I'm running out of money
But you gotta do what you gotta do to keep the mutants happy

Suicidal jingle writer with a tune for every tone of mood


Repurposing drunkass words, oh fuck yeah!