NURSERY RHYME This place is overfilled with garbage She’s lived like this for far too long An indication of starvation in the making The inability to distinguish between fascists and ducks A vehicle of intellectualism Babble for a cause, for meaning The pen – it writes a different story The goose, now dressed like a princess It’s the language of language (Bah…bah…) She’s the mother of all saints From English to Italian Saint, but mostly not Hallowed be thy shame A matter of convenience If you know what you’re saying CHORUS: This is a nursery rhyme Let’s play on the metronome Let’s hear that beat again Trying to telephone God 1, 2, 3, 4 Did you understand Him? Did you hear what I said? There are empty bottles by the bed Now that you’ve launched your rocket ship <WHOOSH!> CHORUS Let’s make a reference and make it obscure Let’s pretend we’re artists: “The swashbuckling samurai does not care for Reds” There… She’s so desperate, she’ll resort to anything these days This is no place for you A wall between two countries It’s better to speak underwater CHORUS

CALLIOPE This is what we listen to when we’re feeling bored This is what we listen to when we’re living life Maximizing the distractions with the hymns of peace Joseph Goebbels Dominatrix Love is on the house tonight! Turn the volume up Load the syringe to the top Taking drugs and praying when there’s nothing else to do Totalitarian optimism for the hard of thinking The Second Coming’s answer to those short attention spans Legitimizing prostitution with a PhD Freedom of choice sold by units: art is not for free! Shouting down the ones who start the first crack in their egg Optimism’s but a whore that I cannot afford Rebels shouting in the street, they’re looking pretty tough Room 11, 10 o’clock: we share the same masseuse This is how it feels to be important: <CHHH…!> Getting high off noise pollution Having tea with mom Agitation setting in (“don’t recognize the tune”) Better to resurrect nostalgia again Fill her up with love: gas station FM666 Beach Boys in the frontlines with their loaded M-16s This is what we listen to when we’re feeling bored This is what we listen to when we’re living life A grand exhibit selling Meaning like potato pies So, if you’ve got no money, then you’d just as well be dead

SHELTERED “A spectre is haunting Europe…” There’s a man of culture sitting there (Or so everybody thinks so) And he’s full of loaded arguments That no one has not heard before And he’s just like an artist With a cigarette in his hand And he’s wet his veins with speed Because the end of the world is nigh And he’s trying to explain About the current social structure Yes, he’s an intellectual And he pays someone to tie his shoes I can still remember All the subversive ideas he held Read it in a textbook If you like, I’ll read it to you in his voice CHORUS: Hail to the death of everything Of everything you see Now we’ve seen the end of all sense, but Long live the death of everything If it’s got a title Or matriculation requirements I can vouch for it myself I can’t even think of writers’ names Like discomfort from one’s grinding teeth Such habituation’s harmful CHORUS In the League of Free Thinkers, anyone’s an idol…

TEDDY BEAR He’s been sleeping with a friend of ours Been a child since he was young Transdimensional security Even his blankets covered his eyes He slept in this morning Oh no! Demand is low on Guilt today And who’ll give him his reasons to believe? Too late to turn to the Hogfather Sophie was a nurse at a nuthouse She washed the feet of mental patients It seemed so strange, but she felt better So strange, but all her worries left her Picking carrots in her garden green Her mother – blown to bits by dynamite She had to give her body to someone It seemed so strange when she got married This is a 12-step program We got the ad out of a book We were uneasy ‘cause nobody saw the ad We left out most of the steps We killed two cops in cold blood But, our conscience got the better of us I guess it was a pretty wedding We also became intellectuals Raggedy friend will never leave you It’s a tumor in the brain Sew a button for an eye He’s been a child since he was young God came to her birthday party He rode in on a horse Soon she lost her faith in God Now the atom bomb makes all her decisions

MY FAVORITE HUNCHBACK I used to think I was important But then I realized I was not I see the mermaid calling out from her rock But her two dollar smile just passes overhead Donald Duck’s trying to sell me orange juice But when I see him, all I see’s a vulture And if it’s such a small world after all Then how come there aren’t any people here? CHORUS: Here come the kings The kings of the world They rule the wastelands and call it Heaven Desperate for anything for the empire If it’s making money it’s all right with me An overseas trip – all expenses paid Looking for gypsies for our cloning guns A culture mastering in thievery Using another’s as one’s own We’re off to see the sultan of the land Doesn’t he look good on our key chains? And if he’s lucky we will let him speak As he promotes a brand new breakfast cereal CHORUS And now I’m sitting in this theater The skin and blood hang from the screen I didn’t know God was American Nor that he shook his hips like that

SIMULATION In this room she stands as the curator In her Museum of the Useless And she’s living out of convenience It’s always: “Give me more” And in this town They’re holding boot camp in the market square Rebel hooligans and mothers alike Loading rifles with a handful of Jacksons Better to spend your money than to think CHORUS: I need everything I can have Possession runs through my veins Oblivious to oblivion I think I’m getting bored A simulation We’re forgetting the next line to the song A lonesome drifter on the desert plains And it’s coincidental that he’s alive But, not in my town We’re giving it 100% But only when somebody’s looking our way This is the Lincoln Caper Assured an insignificant amount As long as the check clears CHORUS I was not alone I found Nirvana in a dressing room And there was actually a line Who says you can’t have everything All hail this right to conquest The Church of Nothing Goes to the point of no return It must be good for something Jesus has many friends all over the world It must be nice CHORUS

GIOVANNI I’m just like Napoleon Can you fill my bags with history? Don’t forget that useless piece of string Just in case it’s left from the Crusades Can you feel my sense of significance? With a capital “SIGN” on my doorstep Won’t you like to join my perfect family? I think I’ll take a walk with the pope’s lover (Her name’s Avignon, and she still loves to collect shoes. Reserve a guiltless seat in Heaven: all sold out!) I don’t want to hear what you have to say If your marble face is not wet with tears Redeem yourself and say you’ve come from Luther Lest I nail my discourse to your head Come up here onto my cloud – it’s white white I’ve kicked all the angels out I’ve done my share of hard work It’s all been paid for in cash Another point of view, a different story Tie me up and toss me to the tombs Keep the leash – it’s got your proof of purchase And a receipt just in case I get lost I’m just like Hamilton, And my wife undresses, dances in the shadows I’m off to Turkey for the sake of the rich I’ll keep yours in my room till you grow up (Or leave the jungles of Africa, California…; and go to Rome – only Rome!)

STORY Why must we not ignore That we ignore the fact that The image we see is only an imagination? A man once told me these words I followed him home He had a camera on his back It was a game to try It was a game gone wrong Someone else told me of playing the mandolin as a drum An unpure sound from the hands of gods A stolen tune But, what of it then? If I pollute with the eye, draw the gun with your own Not like a random reflection Not like he meant it I saw a face, but it must not have been real I’ll never recover that gaze And a photo just tells lies Should I reflect – yes, I’ll be sad (I think I even hear some melancholy music) Is my stare just a waste? Only if you look at me I don’t really mean these things All I want is money

KATE’S MYTH Beaten, forlorn, and slapped in the face Pushed into the minefield by your guardian angel Woke up today with a knife in your side Your future, a coat of bile at the back of your throat Seems like you should have used up all your tears Seems like, by now, you’d have lost all your hope The actor is gone, still the lower depths persist But at least he’ll be going to Heaven this time CHORUS: This is the story, the story of nothing You had a notion, but chose not to remember Cornered, assaulted; like attention by punks An “M” on your shoulder helps the spies in the city Looks like you’ll be tearing that shirt off your back I think it was meant for somebody else That ironed on motto took on its own life Looks like you will not believe anymore Still, you’d rather shove those flies off your face Believing the notion, “Patience is a virtue” CHORUS The wind in your hands has put out the flame But the house has been burning since it was born Tears on her face, she’d never give up Burn! Burn!…Everything must burn! Reserving vengeance for just the right time Gets you nowhere… Speaking the language with broken meaning Taking one all the way back to step one

DEVIL The Devil fled from Hell one day You should’ve seen his big escape “This place ain’t big enough for two,” He heard God shout at him This was a media scandal I heard it on the news: “Oil rig workers dead at once When Devil spews from well…” Smokestack Satan sings his song: “Do wop shoo wop” Smokestack Satan is so sad (Very sad indeed) But, he’ll always be my friend Like he was the Butcher’s friend Always went about together (He even met the band) Yes, he’ll always be my friend And I’ll never desert him The Devil is a pauper The Devil’s on the streets He has no one to take him in The Devil’s met defeat Sold his favorite trident And now he’s got nothing Now he’s selling songs he writes Against a bet he made And now he’s suicidal The Devil’s feeling down He has nothing to live for Now that he’s been forced to flee But, suddenly it hit him It hit him really hard He’d formulate a plan To get the One who did him in He did away with courage He did away with pride Instead he knocked on his front door And Gaze shook hands with fist Now, the Devil’s back in Hell The Devil’s back in Hell And God has met defeat once more The Devil’s back in Hell Now, the Devil’s back in Hell The Devil’s back in Hell And God has been snuffed out again The Devil’s back in Hell The Devil’s back in Hell The Devil’s back in Hell Will God come back again Now that the Devil’s back in Hell?