honest john

I could have been a big time dealer     a crooked politician     or a rock n roll star    but I’m a two time loser     with comic book credentials      that stink of soured dreams and dirty linen      I’ve been a naughty boy again     I soiled my character      with another unfortunate truth       they say you don’t have to apologise for the truth       that the truth speaks for itself        well, the truth is obscene        it’s just another lie      a big shitty lie with sprinkles on it        we live in a world of lies      we cling to our sacred deceptions      swearing by almighty god     that the account we shall give      shall be the whole truth       it don’t bear thinking about        but I do     I think about it constantly       the truth is a terrible thing      and I’ve sickened of it     so pluck out my eyes        stop up my ears      shield me from the merciless truth      with beautiful and comforting lies 

point blank

 I’m sick and tired         of feeling sick and tired       but it’s far too late now        for a Hollywood suicide     I can’t catch a light       there’s  too much lead in my blood       I’m heavy as a deathbed confession     my heart is  a loaded gun     everybody loves a loaded gun     there’s power in a loaded gun      empires were built with loaded guns      but it’s all a little cringe       when you scope it up close        naked in all its nauseating  detail       you see a lot more from your knees      in that point blank moment       when your life suddenly fails       coz you were murdered by your friends      

art

 I feel the need of infinite love    and very often find it     within the ebb and flow of the turning tides   in the ocean of my heart    sometimes I’m totally miserable    sometimes I’m euphoric     I get low      I get high     it’s a  cross that I must bear    but I’m not defined by my defects     you can’t use them against me      because I’m a work of art     expressed in bold strokes of light and shade       a spectrum of pleasure and pain     creativity and passion       and when all my colours fade to grey     I still have music inside me     there is no power in heaven or hell     can ever take that away

democracy

everything speaks to power     and power’s been the primary object    of every human discourse     since the world began       what do you think of me now?       do I meet with your approval?      have finally said something      that you can understand?      out in street they’re saying  that democracy is coming     but they’ll settle for a placebo     it’s the theatre that matters     in this spectacle of life    if voting made a difference they wouldn’t let us do it     because all political power resides with the ruling classes       but it’s a tale of bread and circuses for the ordinary man

hagiography

dark and shameful secrets    occupy my mind      there’s poison in my politics   madness in my plans       I’m a killer in my dreams     an assassin with a smile    I have to get with the program      I have countless graves to fill       I’m a prisoner of my past    my memories haunt me still    the propulsive power of mania     illuminates my plight     so dial me another doctor     who ain’t afraid to fight      who’ll salve my exquisite pain    and shield my innocent eyes    till I find a place in heaven        where no-one ever dies      I may have spoken with angels        it might have been a dream      we’re talking about a world     where nothing is as it seems     but I have to believe in something      it’s a basic human need    

grievous messenger

everything speaks to power       power and resistance      the individual is the product     of that merciless  geometry      I’m not saying everything is bad      I’m saying that everything is dangerous      let that knowledge be the blade     that carves out your place in society       self importance is the first sign      of man’s creeping corruption      the truth is not always beautiful       but the hunger for it is     a man who lies to himself     loses the power to love      he has rejected his identity    to pretend he’s somebody else      but his true name wields a power     that has lasted through the ages      he’s the grievous messenger     of the darkest force of all

a sky song

if I was caught in a storm     and somehow swallowed lightning     got all lit up on the inside      so I spoke in the tongue of angels      would you call me crazy?    would you let them lock me up?    because you don’t care about angels       or what they have to say     but it couldn’t hurt your ears      to listen to a friend    

what if it was just a dream?     everybody dreams     but they don’t get confused     because their dreams aren’t real    what if I’m dreaming now?      was I ever truly conscious?     does it matter much to me?    did I let something slip?    does my madness show through?     I had to open up   to allow myself to feel   I’m turning my wounds into knowledge     learning from my mistakes     and planning to make some more   

this world is so seductive     I want to leave no path untrodden   because I’m not afraid to love      though love can be a cruel thing     depending on your angle     love’s a funny word      with many different meanings   I place no faith in words      because all my words are stolen    I tear them from the sky     to weigh for depth and tone      before  I finally rearrange them     to find out what they signify       have I etched a moment of bliss?      or maybe a flicker of a hell?     in certain circumstances     it’s difficult to tell

 

sucker

 it’s hard to walk away     from a losing streak      there is a lure in risk      that gets into the blood     to tyrannise the heart    with articles of faith    the deck is always loaded      nobody ever wins     when I got hip to that     I only bet on myself      I thought that I was clever    I thought I couldn’t lose       but I made a sucker wager      when I staked my independence     on the empty promises    of ill-considered friends      it seems I can’t rely on others       I can’t trust anyone else     when it gets right down to cases       I can’t even trust myself

agitation free

I used to be your friend   do you remember me?     I’m the charming junkie bastard      who went to see his dealer     and left you in the rain    I was the viper in your bosom     the lover boy from hades      the raging drunk iconoclast     who smashed your window panes     I took your best intentions     and flushed them down the toilet     then played the bloody martyr     to my insecurities     I’m not asking for forgiveness     I don’t deserve forgiveness     I used to be a bastard     but I’m a different creature now       jesus wants me for a sunbeam      you wouldn’t take me for a sunbeam        but I understand the gesture     I turned over a new leaf     and there was my future     clean as a brand new whistle     and agitation free

scientific violence

 we are honed to bloody perfection   instruments of chaos     agents of wanton destruction      we were built for conflict     war is all we know    peace is an illusion     peace is for losers and wimps     but they are dishing out equilibrium     down at your local dojo       e-q-u-i-l-i-b-r-i-u-m      it’s intrinsic to the teaching     but its attainment comes at a price     you have to pay attention      and you have to learn to fight     

you have to learn to fight     if you want to live in peace      that’s not a contradiction      it’s really good advice    this is a dangerous world      it’s a jungle on the street     some people love the drama     but it’s not for you and me      somewhere in an ancient temple        they master subtle forms of violence    that protect your flesh from injury    open your inner eye   and set your spirit free   

everything lies within        you must always have faith in yourself     you can’t be anyone else    so you ought to stick to the truth      and learn to defend your being     you are on the path that leads to perfection      when you slay the petty tyrants      that so often crowd your psyche    to poison your heart and soul      with their corrosive energy

when it comes down to the nitty gritty       you’re your own worst enemy      nothing else in creation      fights against itself     but the duality of human nature     means that we must      whether we  lose battles or we win     all accounts are fictional      and no-one gives a fuck     who wins fictional battles      yet everybody fights them just the same

hanging by a thread

you are never alone       if you have a friend     a friend with a thirst     and money to spend    it’s an ordinary madness       a tale of constant craving      but I’m under doctor’s orders      to stick close to the wagon     my kidneys need a break      and I require a change in society    so don’t come rolling by      unless you bring some dope     we’ll celebrate my sobriety      with a little smoke

dear reader     are you still there?    I hope you’ve been listening    I’d love to meet you one day    I could tell you stories       but you don’t want to hear them      personal histories are trapestries of posture and fabrication       right now in the moment    I’m swimming in circles       I’m not proud of being poor    but I’m not ashamed either     I’ll turn everything around     when my boat comes in   

I’m not averse to change     philosophically    I’ve had many hues and shades      though I always returned to grey    but I just forged a new prescription    I‘m intent on getting high    I’ll extinguish all self reflection      to let my mind float free     and make myself possible again    coz I’m hanging by a thread      but that’s a normal state for me       and they say that where you are        is where you’re meant to be     

slightly misanthropic

all relationships are based on power       I know this for a fact      you must adjust your expectations      and deal with that reality        I don’t make the rules      it isn’t up to me       the vagaries of intent     bind every living creature     into the symbiotic rituals      most commonly affected      by parasitic beings      equipped with human hearts

 I’m accused of spreading bad news       because one man’s truth     is another man’s poison     but I no longer care     if I’m misunderstood      I’m an honest man     given the opportunity      you won’t hear me speak evil      does that mean I’m good?       my friends don’t seem to care       they can light their own fires       they don’t need the likes of me        to slay their petty tyrants       or set their captives free