1. Buffy

This is ludicrous speed.
What's here and now and intended
to be clear to the senses passes as a blur.
Obsession: desire, Desire: obsession.
I know the answer inside is fighting
the image of beauty and security.

I can hear it gnawing at my consciousness in the background.
Groveling, unnerving, yet deaf to nonsensical ears. I fear why I desire.
I understand how this all works and yet I'm still fixated.
Saturday nights are just the start, a day or two into the week and I'm half way back.
By the time I get home I'm back there again.
I am completely aware and yet somehow I'm forced to the margins.
Bench warming and there seems little chance of me getting out alive.
A person no more.
I watch and I watch.
Absurd recap.
A person no more and it feels so good it hurts.
I watch again.
Recapitulation.
Worn down.
This is not where I want to be.
Unfamiliar mirrors.
I wonder what has become of my life.

The gaps in our lives seem to be so easily replenished
with the products of our imagination, allowing ourselves
to believe that the touched-up digital images of perfection
are real and set the standard for beauty and truth within ourselves.
But such things tend to leave a person more lonely than she was
to start with as the bombardment of these images through
entertainment and advertisements remove us even more from the rawness of life.

2. You Will Move

Maybe I should just kill you now.
When we turn our backs on our consciousness
we put more than ourselves at risk. I could kill you.
I could burn your eyes and hop the next train
so you could never find your precious new life.
What drove you not to create but to destroy your life?
The second seems like it's speeding up.
Window fogged with lifelessness and I can barely see through it.
No thanks.
You will move.
When you smell it burning down you will move.

In the midst of the conformity of the work world,
sometimes the act of arguing with the newspapers or evening
news is our only indication that we are still alive
and kicking with an open mind.
Once we forget to be outraged by injustice in the world and
begin concerning ourselves only with our jobs,
we forget what it is to be human.
This song is about the war with myself in the struggle
to find meaningful work while being surrounded by
conflicting values and opinions. It is a reminder to feel.

3. Lizard-Skin Barbie

Okay.
We can stop now.
Time to this stop and go.
We can stop pretending to be sane on this cold worn sidewalk.
We look like fools today.
Much like yesterday.
Much like the times they proved us wrong.
We said it couldn't happen.
They made it happen.
History speaks louder than any other word,
not bound and gagged by passivity or hesitance.
Dust bowls blow with our conjecture.
And I look around and see rust building up.
We can't move even if we try.
Move.
We can't move even if we try.
Move.
Agitate.

The praise over the recent demonstrations in Seattle
are testament to the lack of of realism within the hearts
and minds of many activists fighting for social justice around the world.
Though the demonstrations were successful in that they did postpone
the WTO conference and brought important issues to the front
pages of virtually every major newspaper for a full week,
they offered only marginal success, as the WTO still convened
and exists as it did long before the demonstrations sparked
discussion and then quickly faded with all the expectancy of any other
news story. Though progress is indeed a process, we must remember that our
steps towards justice are indeed only steps, and are only
noteworthy in that they will lead us to the next step. In praising simple
and limited achievements as great strides, we ultimately put ourselves at
risk of being discouraged to continue after learning that our greatest
efforts usually yield only marginal results.

4. The Fish Under The Sea Dance

Stiff as hell.
Fade to black.
Blackness swells.
Forgetting never felt so good.
Yeah, remembering only as a reference.
Today is gauged by how unhappy I am not.
I can still hear what's going on back there and I don't care.
One would struggle to find some kind of peace of mind but I just don't care.
Once would struggle to find some kind of peace of mind.
Even when this dance is over I won't stop moving.
I will never miss a beat.
I would not be able to move like this without having walked through your door.
I would not.
No, not without having my eyes shut...
or having watched them burn.
Shaped, redirected, reevaluated, created a new man.
Thanks for getting me in.
I'll get you next time.

Much like discipline is the price to pay for progression,
the admission price for happiness is often suffering.
Regret loses it's luster and appeal after considering that
where we are in our lives is merely the product of experiences and decisions.
The not-so true madness that others put us through becomes a standard with
which to compare our happiness to.
So thanks for getting me in.
I won't be paying you back.