1. |
Disclaimer I
01:00
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2. |
Penny For Your Thoughts
04:52
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Spare a penny please . . .
A quarter century on welfare, I’ve got three mouths to feed
Every brand new day is not a blessing just a boundary
The only thing that’s grounding me are close friends and
loose change
The search for stability’s a wild goose chase
So will I lose faith?
I’m hopeless on these doomsdays
Pantry Tuesdays to help me cope as my dues raise
Toothpaste? man are you kidding that’s a luxury
Just a couple of potato chips, that’s what lunch will be
Not even a full bag, my kids got no Dad
I only got one pair of pants; I’ve got to sew that
It’s sad to know that I’m about to get evicted
Thought god loved the poor, cause that’s what his word depicted
And as I’m seeing all these rich folks step up in their
Corvettes
I’m on my ass in the ice rink of Polar Vortex
My mind races; the body moves slow
Spare a penny for my thoughts cause I just want you to know
My mind races, while what surrounds me moves slow
Spare a penny for my thoughts cause I just want you to know
Pride is not an issue nowadays with the donations
I’m falling off the world out of tune with intonations
Barely fill my stomach but keep filling applications
Tears fall on the concrete as I’m praying for oblations
I just received a call
“Your son’s caught in a drive-by.”
Day by day is how we live, not what we live our lives by
So go ahead, call a social activist
And let my wrists know I’m a hackivist
Trying to deal with everything, my daughter’s disability
Got a sharp pain up in my liver and it’s killing me
On the way to work, dodging bullets, that’s agility
Begging on the street, selling cigs, versatility
Clothes without holes and I think I’m on the Ritz though
Working these streets, my co-workers are skitzo
My mind races; the body moves slow
Spare a penny for my thoughts cause I just want you to know
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3. |
Passing Fugitive
04:36
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Pieces of myself left behind EVERYTHING IS WRONG
Backpack memories skipping town before dawn
Every quick glance is my last look around
Harridan of time as my last cig hits the ground
I’ll play the part of my former self so you never suspect
Creases on my bed immortalize the last time we slept
My belongings suffocate under the weight of my memories
You don’t know what it’s like; I’ll have to tell my tale in
similes
Mountains, deserts, I’m barred by no bars
Replace refrigerator pics with these empty postcards
Wish that I could tell you why, wish that I could say
goodbye
Before the ocean wipes my footprints off deserted coastlines
I’ll outrun my captors, forever trapped in this arena
IT’S OKAY TO CRY HERE with the bells of Iwo Jima
Cause I’m searching for a better day that never comes to tomorrow
If you want to talk about my life, you’ll need to give me one to borrow
I’m just a passing fugitive, no harm, no racketeer
Third world gypsy, hitch hiking off the pier
Loved ones are misled if they think I’ll reappear
I’ve got nowhere to hold my memories
They’re replaced by souvenirs
In a silent way, up in the mountains of North Dakota
I’m in the junkyard Dad; I think I found our old Corolla
And I leaned over, and stole a warm kiss from Jane
Her opaque reflection left me plastered on the windowpane
I’m telling strangers at the bar the things I’ve been through
Cause a secret needs another pair of eyes to stare into
Beggar of stories, that’s what they call me
Speak of your glories to stall me and relieve me of this
daunting
Threat of capture
Leave me lost inside your rapture, I tell my tale to every
pastor
Wish I could forget me faster
My meals are canned soups over trailer park tires
Until the rent expires, we’re playing hopscotch on top of
tires
My neighbor Leanne brought me with her daughter to the
pond
I was warmer than a cold floor, she dreamt inside my arms
And just when I think I have some affection to show
It’s penny for your thoughts
I leave the keys and I go . . .
I’ve got nowhere to hold my memories
They’re replaced by souvenirs
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4. |
Interlude
03:46
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5. |
Kevin (Skit)
01:00
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6. |
Ethereal Wanderer
05:18
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My future’s bright but the present’s looking dismal
I want my chin to check the chill of a pistol
Crystal clear is the sight of my tunnel vision
Was a wallflower, now I’m just an apparition
Drifting through your parties ignoring sporadic stares
Then I OD within the solace of your attic stairs
A life in desperation, it’s just an addict’s prayers
It’s almost too convenient the way the gat appears . . .
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7. |
Human Planes
03:55
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Fly
Fly like planes
Searching for a better day that never comes tomorrow . . .
Earth’s shadow hits my sundress creating an eclipse
The pages of my notebook glide encompassing my hips
Slicing through my tattoos, watercolors on my wrists
I’m falling from the heavens with a push from the abyss
My lover tastes the bile every time we kiss
These hands that hold my stomach give way to clenched fists
It was a Lapse in Judgment
I’m falling covered in my bliss
Life was just the expectations caught inside your lips
(All I gotta do is)
Reverse my girl’s stroke
Do more than just hope
See my Step Dad get off coke
(All I wanna do is)
Just smile without the smoke
I’d be beside myself if I could laugh at one joke
(All I gotta do is)
Ditch the pills and depressants
Killing my essence
Douse myself inside the evervescence
(All I gotta do is)
Feel myself through life’s lessons
I don’t need to be a moralist to count my own blessings
I heard my last breath when all I wanted was some silence
A fresh breath of dust as I attempt to close my eyelids
It’s every still frame caught up in a single instant
Things only get worse so I don’t wanna risk it
I’ll watch my heels hang together over telephone lines
Eyelashes fan the city orchestrating porch chimes
Graffiti artists paint the streets with my abandoned cosmetics
I feel beautiful now
Divine photogenics
I know she’s out there flying around
Feet never touching the ground making the sweetest sound
I swear and ask if it’s fair
As the wind whips through her hair
And the last thing I heard her say before she turned and flew away was
I would trade all my tomorrows for a single yesterday . .
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8. |
Just An Illusion
07:00
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We’re raw noise like Hendrix on a Target jam pack
Full package like cross-country trips on Amtraks
You’d better stand back cause you kids are fake and can’t rap
Your personality’s thin plastic like saran wrap
Put on my headphones, the only life in dead zones
One meal a day does not assist my weak bones
You attack kids like American drones
My career’s desperate like foster kids who seek homes
Butt ugly child, no girl ever chased me
Honest to god, I think god honestly hates me
The village outcast dodging stones you throw
I freestyle acapella with Bailey Goldsborough
Cause I’d rather live in a shanti than resort to plan B
Musical vigilante, you can’t tell me what I can’t be
Sitting here alone with a sax and metronome
I put you in the zone as I reveal this epitome
Your wack rhymes only add to the confusion
You’re not a real person, just an allusion
Step to us and we’ll give you a contusion
You’re not real people just an illusion
I exorcise damned souls, the great demonics
And drive assisted suicide narcotics into despotics
With dozens of pets and blade tests to put your souls at rest
Misled like high school girls who starve themselves to death
Their empathy, resplendent before you dent it
A spirit shattered in pieces before you even began to bend it
You never meant it when you said you cared about me
I’m stuck between closed alleys
And defeatist tallies
My fetus rallies cut straight from the umbilical
Dispatched to preach faith to lyrical cynicals
So I journeyed through your hearts and caught
claustrophobia
Fought evil in your souls when it brought pandemonium
Cause I was a lonely one fixed to cracked walls
My lunch table at school was next to bathroom stalls
I lost my emotions and now I just sit and stare
Kids stole my stuff and pushed me down the stairs
So I turned my back and tomahawked verse for combat
My poetry bleeds faster than a hemophiliac
I’ll slaughter you cause music is my sixth sense
And now you don’t blow chunks you blow excrements
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9. |
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Thoughts On Standby San Pedro, belize
Our dead friends write songs for us.
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