Room Full of Toys
My muse is a naked bitch,
Leaves me as poor as she is rich,
A slave to this moon of magic,
A fool for the tangled tragic.
It's the kind of love that defines what love is,
It's got nothing to do with the shop of show biz.
It's a noise trap for all my noise, My life of time in a room full of toys.
I am a shipwrecked soul,
But I'm halfway to my whole,
And sometimes I think I'm right,
But I know I'm worth the fight.
It's something even if it comes to naught,
This rain sculpture the gods of I have wrought.
It's a noise trap for all my noise, My life of time in a room full of toys.
Sometimes I forget the stars
Sometimes the night is a stranger
My soul is out parking cars
Dead to my midnight danger.
Day-blue and waiting for my component dreams
To show me back to my skull-digging schemes
A world of wonders in a room full of toys
A thundering silence for a life full of noise.
Single, recorded for this record.
Soul Shedding or Swallowed by Darkness
I know now it's over,
I know now it's gone,
I knew by my verses,
I knew by my song,
The cares of my making,
Have fled with my soul,
I don't give a god damn,
If the world digs its hole.
Time to shed this burden,
Time to shed this skin,
I was your best lover,
And I'll be yours again.
Ageless and timeless,
My beauty to bear,
I thought with my money,
I sold out of my share,
The moments we measure,
The time that I lost,
Such a slight paradise,
At so heavy a cost.
Time to shed this burden,
Time to shed this skin,
I was your best lover,
And I'll be yours again.
My being lost in rapture to my bones,
Metamorphosis of my light,
Volcanic virgins will not feed this god,
Swallowed by the darkness in my night.
I know now it's over,
I know now it's gone,
I knew by my verses,
I knew by my song.
Time to shed this burden,
Time to shed this skin,
I was your best lover,
And I'll be yours again.
July 12
Cut out, Outsider Art. This song was started during the Outsider Art sessions and never finished. I finished writing the lyrics on the date indicated and finished the recording in Dec. 14.
Grave Robbers
Couldn't decide if it was priceless or useless,
But that just made me want it more,
Strapped on my backpack and took to the trail,
Roleplaying the John with the conscience of a whore.
Let us see what the maggots have left,
With only the knowledge of the self,
I’ll just lay here and be dead,
That’s what the mummy's mother said.
These bones are overpriced relics,
Of a flesh that was so cheap-thrill-cheap,
But this extinct animal has a soul,
You don’t covet the sacred-seed if all you do is reap.
Let us see if time has consumed the whole,
Or left any physical evidence of a soul,
I’ll just sit and watch the silence feed,
The good samaritans of this evil deed.
It was just a long way to nowhere,
But here we are,
It's hard to believe this black hole,
Used to be a star.
Jan. 11
Cut out, Outsider Art. Every song on Outsider Art has a companion piece, two of the four pieces here were companions (you guess which) and the other two were going to be companions for songs that did make it on the record. I was going to expand the narrative a bit and then decided that the sixteen songs I had were the record and needed nothing more.
Dead to the World
The orbit of this wonder is a lost sensation,
The nubile fruit of the garden just a mean temptation,
You can't find the way back in thru your exit of reason,
You fit the meaning to the message and the weather to the season.
I am stranded in the everywhere of time,
Broken in my own epic way,
With a story that only words knew how to rhyme,
And a lifetime that outlived itself in a day.
Moments; molecules and memories create a man,
You can’t do much more with it than the best you can,
I took the best of me and put it to the worst of my waste,
Let the moments collapse into a shapeless haste.
I am stranded in the everywhere of time,
Broken in my own epic way,
With a story that only words knew how to rhyme,
And a lifetime that outlived itself in a day.
Dead to the world I’m a living end,
I don't even play a part enough to pretend,
Weathered memories of black and white souls,
Dare not to wonder at for whom the bell tolls.
April 11
Cut out, Outsider Art.
Staring at the Stars
Warm blooded wishes of night,
Meaningless manifestos of train-wrecked moments,
The fluid works of the speed of light,
Tireless redeemer of the dumb heat.
Meaningless manifestos of train-wrecked moments,
The fluid works of the speed of light,
Tireless redeemer of the dumb heat.
That might be Venus,
That might be Mars,
But those are just planets,
I'm staring at the stars.
That might be Mars,
But those are just planets,
I'm staring at the stars.
Let the ether send light swimming,
Let it burn out the petty mythologies of man,
Though it be the vacant beauty of light dimming,
Let that darkening bring all ruins to their ground.
Let it burn out the petty mythologies of man,
Though it be the vacant beauty of light dimming,
Let that darkening bring all ruins to their ground.
A bunch of fireflies,
In otherwise empty jars,
I often just see myself,
Staring at the stars.
In otherwise empty jars,
I often just see myself,
Staring at the stars.
They are the misery for those who can't except,
The burdens and boundaries of their being,
Insignificant specks for the well slept,
Souls of the dead gods of the living.
The burdens and boundaries of their being,
Insignificant specks for the well slept,
Souls of the dead gods of the living.
Coaxed by the confusion,
Of the not so grand illusion,
Memory is bait to sell new cars,
In the darkness of the theater,
Staring at the stars.
Of the not so grand illusion,
Memory is bait to sell new cars,
In the darkness of the theater,
Staring at the stars.
April 11
Cut out, Outsider Art.
I Will Know Her When I See Her
A strange lover of the stars,
She is the fusion of the impossible,
With the math of the mind,
In toto-cosmic-makeover,
Her body; ever ripe as time,
Her personal politics the undressing,
A dreamer of the sleeping worlds,
I will worship unmade moons.
Oh this whisper to my inner ear,
Oh this music of God’s wake,
It means a world that has won its war,
That harlot muse nurses seduction,
The building of what has lost,
What has but crashed on yesterdays,
I want her more than desire can furnish,
I want her like I want my shadow-self.
Some new currency to buy us back,
She will put flesh to this ache,
The petty dramas of these suicides,
No more to sulk upon this stage,
This chronic wasteland and its epic appetites,
Is what we mean when we find meaning,
Empty-eyed-angel come to carry me,
To this imperfect paradise.
I’ll know her when I see her,
She’ll be wearing strings of gods,
And put a hush to these busy wastelands,
Rework all dreams to better odds,
Her tongue in verse will sing new bibles,
Her love in sex will breed new races,
We’ll live in the nothing of the moment,
And live past nights to morning’s graces.
Mar. 14
Cut out, Chronos. As the scheme for this record grew more complex I found I couldn't fit quite a few of the songs I recorded for that album on there. There are four or five more that will be put on future S & T editions.
Dream Tester
One day I woke up,
One day I will,
One day I woke up,
To what is real,
It must be somewhere,
If it’s not here,
And when I get there,
It will be clear,
One day she’ll take me,
To her light,
One day she’ll end this,
This shapeless night,
The morning’s mirror,
Is last night’s moon,
My head is humming,
This haunting tune.
Right now I follow,
One day I’ll lead,
If so I’m wounded,
Then let me bleed,
The world is wicked,
I am the fall,
The world is rumor,
I am the law,
One day it’s empty,
One day it’s full,
One day it’s push,
One day it’s pull,
It’s all for nothing,
The lion’s tomb,
A lonely spirit,
An empty room.
Blood of the dreamer,
Teeth of the dream,
The tyrant’s focus,
A worldly scheme,
One day she knows me,
Next day she’s blind,
She is the traffic,
Of dreaming mind,
Time is crying,
Time is drawn,
The future's morning,
Is dressed and gone,
One day I knew it,
One day I will,
I’ll pay the dream,
For what I feel.
Jan. 03
Single.
Computer Geek Anthem
Gonna hack my way to the soul, I’m gonna put the revelations in code, Yeah the world's gonna take my trip, My boss is gonna eat my pink slip.
Me and my computer, We're gonna take over the world, Me and my computer, I love her more than my girl.
She’s got a googolplex of gigs, She’s got mega megabytes, She’s faster than a thought, We’ll never ever get caught.
Me and my computer, We're gonna take over the world, Me and my computer, I love her more than my girl.
Our agenda is fixed, Our feelings anything but mixed, World domination is the mark, The minnows are gonna eat the shark.
Me and my computer, We're gonna take over the world, Me and my computer, I love her more than my girl.
I'm working on a program, That turns your thoughts into actions, Turns your theories into facts, And your facts into satisfactions, It’ll make your dreams come true, Or make you not need sleep at all, It’ll plug the web into your whimsy, It’ll help you fly thur the fall.
We’ll all get what we deserve, In the network nerve, The man who breeds machine, Will tell the engine what to mean, If we need a sacrifice, Let the silicone pay the price, Time can’t warp cyberspace, We’ll put the time in the place.
Me and my computer, We're gonna take over the world, Me and my computer, I love her more than my girl.
June 98
Acoustic version, recorded Dec. 2014.
Download This!
We all know money makes the world go ‘round,
I’ve always heard you can’t keep a good man down,
Everybody wants to get their knife in the pie,
But there’s a target on the back of the little guy,
If you own all the chickens then you sell all the eggs,
And you wallow in your fortune while everyone else begs,
You tell all the buyers this is all there is for sale,
But this consumer heaven is just a coat of paint on hell.
I’ve got a message for the R.I.A.A. and it’s not exactly sealed with a kiss,
But sooner or later you're gonna have to download this.
The propaganda that you call music,
Our radio dials just can’t refuse it,
An endless supply of mediocrity,
Pass them off as gourmet chefs but they’er just chopping broccoli,
Your concern for their welfare is very touching indeed,
But there’s only six people dumb enough to think it’s not greed,
The muse has been profaned by this commerce ethic,
Now a philosopher-king is born into this reign of the pathetic.
I’ve got a message for the R.I.A.A. and it’s not exactly sealed with a kiss,
But sooner or later you're gonna have to download this.
Everyone that’s ever had a dream,
Just put your ego back to bed,
You walked on the water can you walk on the steam,
I think you better try to crawl instead,
The chisel belongs in a sculptor’s hand,
You need to wring those stars out of your eyes,
The stars are not there to light your band,
They look much more wonderful in the sky,
Here’s to the luck that fills the suit,
And the monetary-physics of designing stars,
My advise to you when you get the boot,
You’d be real good at selling used cars,
Any animal will fight for what he thinks is his,
Any lips recoil from a real death-kiss,
Put the art back in the artist and the show back in the biz,
Sooner or later you’er gonna have to download this.
April 99
Single. This song makes me giggle. I was wrong about everything, Michael Robertson (founder of MP3.com and my philosopher-king in this song) basically lost his fight with the R.I.A.A. and that army of underground super talent still hasn't shown or perhaps they have and the problem is that their crap sounds like nothing more than an imitation of the crap that we'er all already familiar with. The problem with pop music is that even the good stuff is really not that good.
Armor Piercing Bullets
You better make sure your prayers are updated,
You can bet your next meal the traps are bated,
How cold this world; you just don’t know,
Colder than the truth in Christmas snow.
(who’s the man who invented the)
If you’re not hard as stone at least fake leather,
Better nurse the rain if you can’t stomach the weather,
It seems unreal but it’s just absurd,
The flight plan of a flightless bird.
(armor piercing bullets; yeah)
I guess you have to be tough,
I guess you have to be mean,
In a world that needs such a thing.
You have to take your next step for granted so you walk on down the street,
Looking for the reason of the excuse in the eyes of everyone you meet,
With a blind man’s pulse and a whispered rage the killer might be looking for you,
With the limp of the law and the speed of the bullet there’s really not much you can do,
A delicate soul draped in armor still doesn’t stand a chance,
Started with a beat ended with a song then we taught the devil to dance,
Blame is a reference that we use to test our guilt; fingers point the shame away,
And all we care about is being on the right side; you either collect or you pay.
We live with such ruin in our scheme,
We make hurt the prop of our scheme,
Armor piercing bullets; god what a need,
First you need the armor then you need to make it bleed,
So we try to find our way with the enemy in our will,
We live by the numbers and die for the kill,
To any god in radar-range we offer up our hate,
Holding the last laugh for the punch line of our fate.
I guess you have to be tough,
I guess you have to be mean,
In a world that needs such a thing.
Sept. 00
Single. I heard the phrase armor piercing bullets somewhere and it just stuck with me until I finally sat down and wrote this, and in a macabre coincidence it was written exactly one year before 9-11.
Waking Up
Cool September morning; summer’s all but finished,
Sad shafts of sunlight thru clouds as if the sun’s ashamed to show its face,
The traffic limps along; could be just another day,
But I went to sleep in the land of dreams and woke up in some other place.
Waking up,
From nightmares to truth.
I dreamt of brothers and sisters and enemies,
And a faceless tragedy that polarized right and wrong,
I dreamt of buildings, birds and bones and the gnashing of teeth,
And more sorrow and pain than would ever fit into the melody of song.
Waking up,
From truth to pain.
I struggle so hard to understand the hate,
But there is nothing in dreams or in flesh that serve as explanation,
So I watch my brothers and sisters die just for the sake of evil,
And the bitter fruit of rage seems over-ripe with justification.
Waking up,
Sleeping lion.
September 12, 2001
Single. Written the day after 9-11 and recorded the day after that, this song definitely captures my horrific hurt and outrage. I have to honestly admit that I knew that last line that leads into the instrumental expression of rage would be viewed as quite jingoistic. I too felt like I wanted to get my fingers around the throat of those responsible for this, although I felt outrage was a proper response and found it difficult at the time to find anything wrong with attacking Al Qaida in Afghanistan I want to make it clear that I never supported the invasion of Iraqi. I mean if from my humble point of view even I could see what a disaster the invasion of Iraqi would be, why couldn't the powers that be see it? My guess is that they could but just didn't care or even worse, they could and actually desired it to be so.
In retrospect all of it seems to have done much more harm than any good. I can't say I'm a strict pacifist but there is certainly good reason to think war only begets more war and nothing more.
In retrospect all of it seems to have done much more harm than any good. I can't say I'm a strict pacifist but there is certainly good reason to think war only begets more war and nothing more.
I’LL GET OFF YOUR ASS IF YOU GET OFF MY SOUL
From my window all I see is my backyard,
From the windows on the world I can see times are hard,
From little pockets big money is easily made,
This is how the debts of Wall Street are paid,
This is the kind of freedom that’s surely not free,
The politicians bribe is the banker's fee,
Is it asking too much for you to take a little less,
Just leave a bit more for all the rest.
All we want is a measure of control,
I’ll get off your ass if you get off my soul.
Pawns of history from John Brown to Roy Brown,
We got rid of the king but we kept the crown,
Union members dwindle to the routine-incorporated,
If you can’t learn to see with your eyes you will be indoctrinated,
Those rusty-revolutions fought way back when,
We think it couldn’t happen here but think again,
When the people wake up from this American dream,
They’ll see this good night’s sleep was just a god damn scheme.
All we want is a measure of control,
I’ll get off your ass if you get off my soul.
I’m doing pretty well in this lost suburban sprawl,
But I’m only a few bucks away from losing it all,
You really don’t have a thing when your just a slave to all you own,
A lifetime of debt can hardly be called a loan,
They say consider yourself lucky to have a job at all,
They entice you with flight just to inspire you to crawl,
So we betray ourselves and embrace the enemy,
And for the sake of our daily-bread forsake our liberty.
All we want is a measure of control,
I’ll get off your ass if you get off my soul.
Oct. 11
Single. Written after the start of the Occupy Movement, in support of. Idiotology
Lend me your crutch and I’ll lend you my limp,
This born-again whore fucks just like a pimp,
And that cigar is still smoking where she practiced a blow-job,
But the Starr of the show would rather give you a snow-job.
We just need some more meat to fill these plates,
Another unbalanced meal for these un-United States.
We believe in anything; with no apology,
It only takes one idiot to make an idiotology.
Hold spout; tear open; insert meaning here,
Funny how that touch of myopia makes everything so clear,
She hands him the letter with a knowing wink,
Didn’t know a thought could smell ‘till I smelt you think.
Maybe devolution is at an all time high,
All this digging in the dirt makes it hard to reach for the sky.
Love your neighbor but hang him if he doesn’t think like you,
Ten idiots swear by ten points of view.
Make your stand to let someone else take the fall,
Imagine such deaf ears being able to hear the call,
He pretends not to notice that that’s two men,
Murder or love which is the bigger sin.
It’s easy to see you know just what to do,
It’s obvious god hates everyone but you.
It takes an idiot to know the way,
Maybe we’ll all be idiots someday.
Oct. 98
Single. Full of lots of topical allusions of the time.
Single. Full of lots of topical allusions of the time.
Something Called It
She looked like the stranger’s mother on the cover of her homemade cd,
With a look that could see the promised land and eyes that could barely see,
Something like a pout in reverse seem to say please,
Maybe her photographer’s five hundred dollar fee didn’t include any cheese.
There is no parody of inspiration that could make her quit,
She’s determined to have her little piece of something called it.
He jotted down a couple of lines that resembled common sense,
He was pretty sure he had an idea so he must be a qualified genius,
He had a dream of the footlights tingle; the smell of vomit and champagne,
His contract was written in the stars; a natural talent just like acid rain.
He gets together with the boys in the band and they rehearse their bit,
They don’t talk much about making music just about making something called it.
She was just another one in a billion beauty working for the Gap,
Now she’s just the ninth dime in a dozen on some fat cat’s lap,
How could this be a dream come true when the dream felt much more real,
You have to expect to break a few teeth when you're willing to beg, borrow or kill.
When they turn the stirrings of your soul into another piece of shit,
You’ll be staring straight into the jaws of something called it.
April 00
Single. This song kind of ends a trilogy that starts with Computer Geek Anthem to Download This! and kind of reflects my declension of disillusionment. In the early aughts it started becoming really apparent there was no underground army of starving artists, just an underground army of hungry ones. Hymn 101
Beat the back of your habit’s slave,
Chase this ghost back to its grave,
Take it deep; a holy breath,
Give the past its well earned death,
Chant the rhyme then toss the dust,
Skim the water’s soul from the raindrop’s rust,
Break the rhythm with a new dance coup,
Feel the blood of Eden that flows in you.
Put some soul into your body,
Take some matter off your mind,
Let the vision see,
Don’t look yourself blind.
This song is in vibe with the cosmic hum,
Offer your heart-strings and strut to the strum,
After you’ve opened and shut the book of why,
Shake off your curse and give why-not a try,
It all means nothing that’s why it’s worth your all,
You couldn’t dream of flight without the fear of the fall,
Spread the ashes of your philosophy to the seven winds,
And just drift to the river’s impromptu bends.
Put some soul into your body,
Take some matter off your mind,
Let the vision see,
Don’t look yourself blind.
If nothing worth living for is the part that kills you,
Then nothing worth dying for ought to pull you thru,
This world just spins on a dreamer’s snore,
Don’t pick at the dream until it’s sore,
It’s worth more or less what you pay for it,
Don’t spend what you have on some piece of shit,
It’s something new that’s older than the stars,
And you’re healed forever when you wear these scars.
Put some soul into your body,
Take some matter off your mind,
Let the vision see,
Don’t look yourself blind.
Sept. 98
Cut out, Blues in Code. Started for Blues in Code and finished some time after that record. I tend to know exactly where I'm going, this is one of those few songs that ended up in a radically different place from where it started. The Good Life
When the world feels like a souvenir hanging on a chain around the devil’s neck,
And a glance into the nighttime sky just leaves you feeling like a speck,
When there’s so much to do that nothing ever seems to get done,
And you can’t remember the last time you simply had some fun.
Take the time to relax and unwind,
Don’t get lost in what you can’t find,
The good life is a state of mind.
When it was much too much; much to long ago,
And your thoughts are such a battlefield you can only guess at what you used to know,
When the traffic pushes you this way and your nerves are pulling you that,
And you feel like the rat races first place rat.
Don’t agonize your daily grind,
Think about your baby’s behind,
The good life is a state of mind.
It’s never easy but it’s worth more than you’ll ever pay,
Just say goodbye and you’ll be on your way.
Aug. 00
Single. I have no idea, forgot this one even existed.
Single. I have no idea, forgot this one even existed.
The Titty Bar Song
Going to the titty bar one, two, three, Gonna see how many titties I can see, They come in pairs so they add up quick, Always make me want to play with my (You Know).
Going to the titty bar uno, dos, tres, I love it when they put 'em right in my face, Don't care if they'er big; don't care if they'er small, Any kinda titties just make me wanna.......
Going to the titty bar un, duex, trois, Here comes the doctor; baby I'll say ahh, Been down on my knees; been down on my luck, Now I'm staring at some titties and I don't give a.....
Going to the titty bar eins, zwei, drei, They won't let ya touch 'em but I'm gonna try, I'm gonna get a lap dance I'm gonna rock, Maybe even get a little rub on my....
Going to the titty bar uno, due, tre, All this work makes me wanna play, I'm as horny as a vulture; I'm as lovey as a dove, Every time I see titties I fall in…
LOVE.
June 10
Single. Oh wow. Well, this started as a little sing-along that I use to lead for friends and family at our favorite Mexican restaurant that we lived at, oh for at least a good decade. I kept telling my brother-in-law that I was gonna write a few more verses and record it someday and then one afternoon in about six or seven tequila shots, I did! Please take it in the vein it was done in, just a playful limerick, nothing more, plus it's educational - it teaches kids how to count to three in five different languages!
Solving the Mystery
Instrumentel
Sept. 00
Single. I kinda always liked that snare roll/glitch thing that they do in Electronica, so I wanted to figure out how they did that. It was really pretty easy to figure out. Mystery solved!
All songs composed, performed and recorded by M.M.
Released January 2015
