written and produced by giuseppe andrews. performed by giuseppe and ed. additional vocals on heroin tv show vest and dementia by mary. vocals on header by ed.

Time slot

Life takes a breath, sends us all into our death. We cry for light of endless love, a place of peace to rest above. The wisdom key is stained with rust. I put my heart into your trust. The wind of fire is on our ass. I had a cry for all that’s past. It’s something to think, not about but actually. And after you do, you’ll see dreams before they’re true. Likewise, I’m sure. So what. I never played it down. Stages of dancing pants and baby seat meows. A time slot. Is that all ya got? The thief breaks in, the thief gets caught. The world checks out at half a pound. We surfed the wave of sight and sound.

I got the bomb!

Is everything straight? Are the cords all the way in? I’ve gotta stop changing the room around. I need to focus that energy on sound. I’m asylum-bound. I’m the bull sign. What’s that got to do with your o.c.d.? is everything straight? Are the cords all the way in? worried over stupid shit. Mama’s tits get bigger during… worried over stupid shit, mama’s tits get bigger during p.m.s. I got the bomb and I’m not afraid to drop it on you. There is no excuse for this song, but I want you all to sing along. I object to this marriage of muck and mind. Tell me I’m wrong. I’m a cheap date. Is it too late for lunch? Is it brunch? Panties in a bunch. P.m.s. crack pipe fire burned down the private school. What do we do? I got the bomb and I’m not afraid to drop it on you. I gotta do what I have to do. Don’t tell me it’s true. I got the bomb. Children put away all of your bombs. Children put away all of your bombs and get washed up for dinner. Ed, give us some dinner music. I GOT THE BOMB!

California Morning

Wake up to the menu of last nights movie in an office chair. Nuke a cup of coffee then pick a disc to put into the cd player. Pullin up the blinds to let the sun inside. Then sit down at the counter. Give my nose a blow. It’s so dusty here you know. A dusty California morning. Cali cali cali cali cali California morning. (motorcycle asshole) (tweekin your balls off) (stay in your fu**in lane) (or I’ll blow your brains out) . Gypsy boots was a vampire’s worst nightmare. And Nietzsche’s got nothing on junk mail.

Glue kid

Where the bike path ends birds have sex in front of him. He’s non threatening to them. Wife beater blood stain. Belly button safety pin. He wants to go to the Dali museum someday. His parents are making payments on cards, houses, cars, and cattle dogs. He watches the trees do tricks. The clouds do cartwheels. He’s safe from the god-squad. Safe from the pit bulls and their wonderful owners. School starts again in two weeks. Humphrey Bogart lunch box. Here’s lookin at you glue kid.

Header

Life is what we make it, six words so often said. Some motherf**kers think they can fake it. When they feel the power of love, they smash their heads.

Radio Stations

Turn the stars around. Now I want to get on. Been a lot of questions ‘bout the Jesus dance song, and I’m in the wrong lane again. Are you gonna let me over friend? We’re in the same boat. Drownin’ in the feelin’. learn the game of love and you’re heart’ll look cheap. Give me good drugs and you’ll never hear a peep from my mumble bum mouth again. Are you gonna let me over friend? we’re in the same boat, headin’ for the bull run. Radio stations sing along with fuzz. Feel the sun inside, yeah, dead ghosts, they love it when my dreams dry out in the rain. Turn the stars around. Now I want to scream out. Been a lot of wars and shit. The novel was about all the ladies by the condo pool. They’re breakin’ all the banks and rules. We’re in the same boat, rockin’ to the satellite radio stations. Yeah, they rarely miss on the radio

Heroin TV Show Vest

I heard being gay leads to horse sex. ( Are you serious? ) As a heart attack, baby. Combing my hair with a gun. I want to turn the aliens on like a dress shoe bomb. Indian givers give livers to the rock stars. Drink your blood at home. And you better leave me alone when I’m wearing a heroin TV show vest. Monkey see, arts and crafts, birth control, that’s a laugh. Letter knives, perfect dying, no one can blame you for trying. Put a little motor on a snake in the water and *voila* you’re back in the race. Easy chairs are harder than they look. And so is my pecker when you wear that black (Chantilly lace) A d minus restaurant never hurt a fly. Speed read my palm and tell me no lies… (repeat chorus). We’re wearing a heroin TV show vest (repeat). I heard being gay leads to horse sex.

White skunks (live at the donut shop)

White skunks in my suitcase, I travel with them to McMansions. White skunks in my suitcase I get them homes that they can count on. White skunks in my suitcase, I keep in touch with them on weekends. White skunks in my suitcase, told me bees sure act funny when they get a little honey. White skunks, they love white funk. Be quiet I’m getting room tone. I am a sound man for the movies. Fruit cups could have saved me, but now I’m used to eating hot dogs. I need a mountain mama, my desperado days are history. Ice chests know the feeling, that’s how the dinosaurs went bye-bye. White skunks in my suitcase, I travel with them to McMansions. White skunks in my toothpaste, I get them homes that they can count on. White skunks, get out of my face, I’ll get you homes that you can count on. White punks, f**k this place, I wanna go out man, It’s the weekend.

Dementia

Rain cleans the air. Rain cleans the sky, don’t ask me why. Just act like I’m not here. I know you got valuable information, but I don’t care. Real punks don’t dye their hair and the unemployed never work it out, they just lay around and stuff their snouts with rat bait blow. Rain washed the car, rain washed the bum, (where are you from?) I know I aint from here, I know that it’s a delicate situation, but it’s a trick. Real punks don’t pierce their dicks. And the astronaut ran out of space. He’s rents storage rooms by the coffee place for all his porn.

Reason

Hey baby don’t you know that it’s gonna get better. You won’t be lying on the dirty floor forever. Life gets tough, then it lets you up. You think it’s half empty in your paper cup. But hey baby, don’t you know that it’s gonna get better. Hey baby don’t you know that we’re going to heaven. We threw them dice and it never came up sevens. But that’s okay, cause it’s just a game that we’re playing in a body and we’re playing with a name. but hey baby don’t you know that we’re going to heaven. Change, it comes so fast and makes you feel so strange. You feel like a target in a ghost town shootin range. But it’s just another wild crazy stage, that’s got a reason. The darkness goes away, I’m so happy to say, I made it through the sorrow and the pain. And now I got a song, I sing it all day long, and if you never hear it, that’s okay. It’s for a reason. For everything we’re going through in this life, the sweet lord’s got a reason.