Track Name: Cabin Dreams
Have you seen my cabin dreams by the lake?
Track Name: Winds of Change
The Winds of Change
Track Name: New Egg
I've been writing the same song since I've started. I'll never get past myself.
I've been stuck in the same mental block since about five years ago and the only minor change that I've noticed is I'm better at being sarcastic now than I was before.

I can't find a proper place to set my notebook. Not that I help the situation by having so many notebooks. The other night I lost half a year in a matter of minutes. I can't remember anything and that feels pretty good. I've been holding onto something that isn't even there and it hasn't been a seriously problem since my senior year and I'm much older now but that doesn't mean anything.

I've been taking different pills since late last Winter and I haven't found the one that makes me stop my thinking. I'll never write anything thats remotely comparable to "A Crown for Every Refugee" and I've come to terms with that.

Hopefully one day I will see Amanda Palmer again. Maybe she will like me and my music and we'll nuevos huevos.

Until something interesting happens, I suppose I'll keep on keeping on. Theres some things we have to do so I'll do them but I won't like it. Maybe I'll be more positive. Maybe I'll be more productive. I'll start by doing something impossible like...........
Track Name: Spontaneous
We had no chance he was dead when he was born...well...not so much dead...he was aging before our eyes!
This isn't normal. This isn't good.
Did you call a preacher? Cause someone should.

There's a man with a rope in his stomach with the mind of a newborn child with the face of a dying soldier with no concept of the speed of time.
There's a body collapsed in the hallway who has died of natural causes. He never met eyes with his mother. This is a job for science.
This isn't normal. This isn't right.
A baby was born and an old man died.
Track Name: Fake Batman w/ a Shotgun
I don't know how to get all obtuse and stuff...uh...but...
(But what?)
I'm not sure now take a puff. Light it up, sticky blunt! Scruff McGruff isn't tough enough like Maven cravin' a safe haven he's got a crush on a BB bubble W. Trouble loves to follow you. Was it true? Cousins Bluth, gettin' funky Funke fuckin. Mr F. take a breath; maybe give it a rest. You got Pop Pop in prison. He's touchin' Glee ladies' breasts, ya bet!?

Sittin' on the avenue I think I should be happy to be leaving, but I believe in everything that I've been seeing. I suppose every good thing must come to a close. There's only one note in the book, you know?
Track Name: Jet Ski
Today I trimmed my mustache with fire and I learned something very very valuable while doing so. (What's that?)
I learned that if you ever find yourself holding a lighter that close to your face then you need to readjust yourself my friend because you're not clear and simple enough. How much for the Kawasaki? I've got a couple of bucks to make on a Jet Ski in the middle of the lake.

Tonight I'll cut a rug, I'll burn the grass.
I'll chug my slug, my worth, the gas, my cash because, well,
I've become so invested in making this happy moment last that i will disobey the law and I will take the Jet Ski out to pasture and sink this bitch just to get some answers! How much torture can you people take; on a Jet Ski in the middle of the lake.
Track Name: Teysa's Nuclear Winter
You're climbing over a monumental tower;
overcoming and outrunning just as fast as Rocket Power.
Head on ya, smooth wobble. You punch it full throttle. You knock over gin bottles; atomical pro-product, YES!

You keep creepin', you're sneaky like Fats Domino,
fat like McDonalds, I'm loving it and cuddling and coddling the government, hovering above in a ton of atomic bubblin and no one knows its comin and it's a hard knock life/sharp rock knife/first strike to your windpipe. Night night, it's beddy bye. You ready? Cause I've been pedaling your organs to your enemies. Steadily your settling, left to be in a centerpiece.

I raise my characters evenly when I'm RPGing. See, I got a GED for free. I know my ABCs my Do Re Mis because I lot of potato inside of my frittata. I karate hot Impala. Chili, chocolate cheese and chowder. Shout an order out the window. Scale a falling tower and holler when it's el manana. Hana, dool, set, net, da seot and ya seot. Get the fuck up out the closet and fucking do something about it.
Track Name: Shumkums: The Crown of Glory
Macho Man:

Freak out! Freak out!
I'm back with the Crown of Glory!
Randy Poffo may be six feet deep but the Macho Man is second coming!
Reborn in the moonlight madness!
The rapture called and the message was clear:
A savior is back behind the pearly gates.
All I needed was a place to stay and now the King has returned.
There are ladies in heaven finer than anything the Earths ever seen and Mary Magdalene is wanting her piece of Savage.
For anybody out there wallowing in the Black Hole, you're free!
Thanks to me!
Macho Man and the Candlestick Army now the Madman passes the mic off to the Batman!

Batman:

I got the bubonic chronic. I'm on it. You want it? Too bad! You can't have it! I'm Batman like a bad habit, dagnabbit. Faggots is a potato, radishes and vegetables. Have a bash, a festival. Just don't get to crazy, yo. Ready, GO!
Hold up David Hayter, I'd rather do this now and not later. Meet me in the elevator in five minutes...make it eight. Cause I just saw a cutie and I'm ready to fuck! I'm prowlin on that booty in five minutes I'm done. I got myself a system, it don't bother no one. I just stand there staring, rubbin my dick till I Shumkum!!
Track Name: Cemeterian Spring
New friends shake my hand by the eyes.
I would like to know what color magic you play.
An impromptu visit to the Devil at night might be more than my ego can take.
The brownie is feeding the frenzy. My hands become involuntary.
Scratching songs like spells on the walls of the cave, now I'm busy spelunking.
A very old soul I found buried in a grave where my ancestors wait.
It was a very old soul and it needed to die at some point.

Well, I'm a cemetery in Spring, where death and life are born together, simultaneously.
I am just across the street. Grab a candle, hop the fence and you will see.
Cause after all we're always only a lung collapse away from the after party and after all we're always only a lung collapse away.
No I'm with the Spider in Limbo. I better not stare too long at the world inside of the center where me and the Spider can both be free and on my way out of my mind, into the cartooniverse I found an ugly truth I needed to struggle with.
My Devils are planting seeds and I get to choose which trees to water and I choose to eat from them all and I'm finding that some of the sweet makes you nauseous and sometimes the ripe isn't obvious and sometimes a creature is living inside of another!

We are a basket full of different kinds of similar fruit.
Track Name: I'm A Bird
Stand back and do the countdown.
5,4,3,2,1. I'm taking off now and
you all look like ants except you're not as strong as ants and
it's a bright day but I can't tell.
Theres a window but it's crystal and it's cracked in the middle and everything looks like it's a spider or a fly and I'm a bird but I have nowhere to go.

So I sing and it sounds pretty to some but to others it just gets annoying and they want me to shut up so they can get more sleep.
But NO!
There's nothing you can do. I can sing all I want and I'm singing to you and the words to this song are very meaningful but you don't speak bird. If you live here you should learn the language.

So as time goes by you'll notice that theres more to what you see.
It makes no difference. It's the same damn thing.
So when they clip your arms you're no longer a scarecrow.
You're a child. You're a pile of blindfolds.

Think fast.
Here comes a had one in the form of 50,000,000 smart bombs.
Just because you're underground doesn't mean you're safe from harm and I try to float on with a wing and a prayer. That goes out to anyone who's waiting wanting to share. It's not a novel if you don't write it down anywhere.
Track Name: Scraps of Yearbooks and Vice Versa
One face/ten billion faces scattered in a notebook torn to pieces after one long night of drinking with my friends.

One thought. A thousand follow.
Too numb to number them. It all seems like one big blur.

One time and then it's done. No one to own, no one to touch but pinatas are now an option.

One day is barely enough to fix all frustration I'll face in my life so I'll drink and I'll smoke until I can think of a solution for moving time.

Pages torn in vast vibration. Smearing scorn is somewhat tasteless.
Frames once still now animated until they settle in a solemn state.
Moving picures, drunk and spinning. Dizzy from the tilted living.
Blah blah blah, missing, lost, a cause ambition.
Waiting where you are right now will in some way effect the future.
Waiting to long could result in a total collapse of motivation.

Once we begin reading books without any pictures we will lose all chance of connecting with our former selves.