From the recordings Hopefully More than a Blanket of 'I' Statements and Hopefully More than a Blanket of 'I' Statements (Streaming)
Lyrics
{Verse 1} Gastrointestinal—out of the rectum, a temporary exodus—sound of a restorative; expurgate! Abnormalcy’s cock-blocked the ordinary. These are just a few of my unfavorite things. Stock-prosaic, coccyx-Amex, sought kaleidoscopic: common to rock a wilted pancreas atop a diatomic—comical trinary, fourthenary, infinary topic. Corral another motive to film the new biopic. Not a novice, I’m a nom and nom and nominally hominid and not a Homer nowhere near yourself and next of kin. I maintain it. The frame ain’t taking another for the team and natal takeaway. There’s always something to blame for suffering. I don’t want to have to have to feel today. But that’s much easier said than done and the fact is that dichotomy’s a masquerade and if you don’t feel now, you feel worse later; but either way eventually you’ll have to pay to Dr. Feel Bad. Time and time again I said this wouldn’t be the last time that {Hook} I don’t want the drugs anymore. I don’t want the booze anymore. No, I don’t want the shrooms anymore. I don’t want the weed anymore. I don’t want the LSD anymore. I don’t want the coke anymore. I don’t want the sex anymore and I don’t want the cigarettes anymore. I don’t wanna’ eat anymore. I don’t wanna’ need anymore. I don’t want it. I don’t wanna’ be! *Oh no...not again!* {Verse 2} The taste of iron and medicinal cherry when you are higher than an asteroid adherently affixed in gravitation. Dumb, uncomfortable until the novocaine’s emaciated. Pain is gladly allocated—ripped out by your dentist to write a script for acting incapacitated in your cabinet. I, tectonic platelet, prefer to mend inebriate. Things fall apart and gradually will turn to shit. What’s elected once, well, was the better of two wits. A fit of the pits, a put on the ritz; benzocaine dressing, canker/cold sore reappearance serum. Mirror, play the crater with my tongue in error. Cunnilingus all of my life on every problem in my mouth. *Moans* Yeah, art comes with experience. I’m merely been skin stretched over mass: psychosomatic alpaca mechanics. Manic as ever in managing average in counter attack of the looking glass. Safari: carotid capacity—Amityvillic. A mulligan, knack epidemical: masochistic, mastondonic, candid volunteerism. Wait a minute. Hang on, it’s sounding sorta’ Klingon the way that names connote a certain faulty optimism in that healthcare isn’t THAT, it’s more like “deal-with-it-for now” and then recover lovelier with doctors taping us together. I don’t like to use the “N-word,” so you can call me wigger: a disenfranchised party, economically disfigured. Not aligning with the value system set by my employer—I quit! Fuck! Why’d I choose to give up my benefits? A sedative: venom and very affectionate terrapin, never abandon me—no! Only provisional solace, a mollification, avoiding reality. So, segway numbing and knuckle oppose. Facing a difficult truth to be told, whether be mental or physically prone in an ostentatious, affidavit. Exclamation! Extrication from the origin and more important ornamental pain you thought had been a good idea. A stay-cation, a grave formation, of simultaneous surround a panging ache. A rake-in patience to cope—archaic; a reccurant trait to plague an intrastate. The make and model of life un-bottled is groveled over everywhere and to this day. And if you didn’t know already, you’re your worstest adversary; even Marvel Comics Wolverine has had his dates with Dr. Feel Bad. Time and time again I knew this wouldn’t be the last time that {Hook 2} I don’t want the drugs anymore. I don’t want the booze anymore. No, I don’t want the shrooms anymore. I don’t want the speed anymore. I don’t want the weed—I don’t wanna need anymore shit! {Verse 3} Savor the times nothing is wrong. If all is well, wrong isn’t far. Coaxing along decoy’s sarong, as if you didn’t know the consequence. I have been a victim and enabler of self, in my choices to, saving a relationship, perpetuated, dealt with for reasons wrong, in that as it worsened what I wish I hadn’t felt if in hindsight my intellect and learned faculties had superseded what was then basic—Hello operator. I am unavailable. I, masterfully sulking in my solitude: a mountain out of molecules and moderated mopping up a pro-procrastination fix and calling all degenerate, imprudent, “only human” human beingss: the smartest and dumbest creatures on the earth. I find it fucking ridiculous how we as Homo sapiens, amiss, repeating history’s the oldest fault in the booklet. I ain’t medicating self for me to battle with the present set of circumstances; anchor bearing down upon the redheaded stepkid. Everybody’s got monotonous afflictions. Who’s the ultimate offender in the animal kingdom? Man. I take drugs once in awhile, but know my limits. It’s a vicious crutch. I’m fucking going sober here on out!