All of that thick time without you
Has made me so thick and drunk
"and it's okay to laugh about it"
I said, "it's okay to laugh about it"
Running twice as fast to stay in the same place
Don't catch my breath to the end of teh day
And I'd rather be shot in the face
Then hear what you're going to say
One day the wind will come up
And you'll come up empty again
-And who'll be laughing then?-
You'll come up empty again
No reasons-no explainations-so play the violins
It's always funny until somone gets hurt...
And Then it's just hilarious!
You beat me every time you blink
If only i did not have to think
Think about you crackin' a smile
Think about you all the while
On the ricochet - it's going to hit you
It's always funny until someone gets hurt
You can laugh at me - when it misses youthey were digging a new foudation in Manhattan
and they discovered a slave cemetary there
may their souls rest easy
now that lynching is frowned upon
and we've moved on to the electric chair
and i wonder who's gonna be president, tweedle dum or tweedle dummer?
and who's gonna have the big blockbuster box office this summer?
howabout we put up a wall between houses and the highway
and you can go your way , and i can go my may
except all the radios agree with all the tvs
and the magazines agree with all the radios
and i keep hearing that same damn song everywhere i go
maybe i should put a bucket over my head
and a marshmallow in each ear
and stumble around for
another dumb numb week for another hum-drum hit song to appear
people used to make records
as in a record of an event
the event of people playing music in a room
now everything is cross-marketing
its about sunglasses and shoes
or guns and drugs
you choose
we got it rehashed
we got it half-assed
we're digging up all the graves
and we're spitting on the past
and you can choose between the colors
of the lipstick on the whores
cause we know the difference between
the font of 20% more
and the font of teriakiyi
you tell me
how does it...make you feel?
you tell me
what's ...real?
and they say that alcoholics are always alcoholics
even when they're as dry as my lips for years
even when they're stranded on a small desert island
with no place within 2,000 miles to buy beer
and i wonder
is he different?
is he different?
has he changed? what's he about?...
or is he just a liar with nothing to lie about?
Am i headed for the same brick wall
is there anything i can do about
anything at all?
except go back to that corner in Manhattan
and dig deeper, dig deeper this time
down beneath the impossible pain of our history
beneath unknown bones
beneath the bedrock