FOLLY LYRICS

1. Brooks Was Here

Needles in the grass?
Ok, snakes in the hay.
Homogeny is engulfing culture.
Strip malls and chains tear down the sanctity of days, supplant ancestry with amenity.
Melting pots before thee, this blood will boil free.

2. Bonfire Of The Manatees

Aquatic fortitude!
Unscathed and witless, below the hopes and fears of robotic fixtures.
Proposed to the fluent lovers, hopeless romantics enthralled in semantics.
They'll flee the highlands, they'll flee their skin.
Quick, under the cover of darkness!
De javu and amnesia simultaneously.
Haven't I been here before?
Did I just ask myself that question?
Illustrious madmen knitting quilts for comforters.
Well, isn't it true that we all need outlets to grow?
It's everything that it's not.
Knots everywhere.
There's contradictions in all of us, in everything.
Oh, luxuries maim lunatic.
Auction / action.
Hit the button, admire the implosions.
We're burning ourselves alive, screaming 'peace out!' at the ocean.
Although the flames will engulf the laughter, best bob while limbless and out of air supply.
Anything that's worth doing is worth doing right.
"brevity is the brother of brilliance."
The screw that holds it all together.
In place, in time solo duets.
Audiences fainted!
Live dying to be someone else.
Die living to be yourself.
Possessions are lucrative at best.
Investments buy some time.
Exceptions forth, everything cast aside.
Buy / sell, buy / sell.
Bovine divine!

3. False Evidence Appearing Real

Woe?
Blame it on the rain.
Whoa!
Blame it on the name game.
Size-up, suit up self-esteem.
Tie-down, dress-down fight in the dog-days.
Wolf nights?
Introspection and longing are a feverish solitaire.
In fact, it's a lot like masturbation.
When you win, you beat yourself.
See-saw, hear / say.
Say-saw, heresy.
Stimulus, responsive.
Stimuli responded.
Let's pick a definition!
Undue sense of ones own arrogance or a family of lions?
Yeah, I'm afraid.
I don't want to die.
Not now.
Not ever.
It's a harsh reality, right?
It's the most offensive truth.
Those songs you'll hear when you're deaf.
What will they sound like when there's no sound at all?
Footsteps you see in the dark.
Footsteps you see?
Cat and mouse is a game of subterfuge.
The mind scratches itself to pieces.
Spat-up.
Chew it down or leave the entrails to dry in the sun.
In summation, fright is nothing more than a collection of preemptive suicides.
Do what you do to be alive.
It's a massacre outside that hole, wandering three-blind mrs. butcher.
Suspense!
"it's that cat, doc, he scares me to death,"
Confesses the mouse to the shrink.

4. Odds>evens

I am as old as my tongue.
I am much older than my teeth.
Been neighbors for years but nevertheless not a word was shared.
Just eyes through the blinds.
Venetian.
Odds.
Evens.
The flop read
'Good thing you bet the farm.
Good thing you bet it all!
Those bastards are always bluffing blind no matter what's dealt, drawn, or thrown down.'

Where do all thoughts go to lay themselves down for good?
Perhaps they will rot with the body or float up to the sky by the tail of the soul.
Auto pilot, take 'em there by surprise!
Go out in a blaze, a blaze of glory.
Leave without a trace.
Leave without a flaw.
We'll catch up with those thoughts when we catch up with ourselves,
As we catch up with yourselves catching up with each other.
Well blow me down, blow me back down to earth.
As fast as half-way between go and stop!
Throw your mama from the train or my mom will shoot

5. The Wake

In hind sight for sore eyes on the prize fighter.
Pilot, gunner, navigator, the sky.
The mountains luke-warm, metaphorically speaking.
Speaking of metaphors?
The simile is a front-runner.
The simile lacks a blue-print.
With an enchanting proposal, one foot led the other, congruent.
To think your only god would flaunt you.
To think your only god would fight you!
Raise a frail fist at the creator.
Scream "I want to meet my maker!" persistently the ground tends to make way for you.
Exchange all those hats for a hairline.
Define the cycles of existence to think and act just as we do.
We're blasphemous separatists de-railing the trains of thought.
Reparations for misopportunities.
Pay some respect: the transitional currency.
Reimbursed.
Sleeping soundly.
Should have soaked it all in, absorbed the pouring rains past.
Let sheets blanket the suits so the dust can settle in sorrow.
Last showing?

6. Human Bodies

This place, more orange nowadays.
The ashen badlands redeem.
Your face, through magnified glass, still draws me in.
Those big eyes draw me in.
Distrophy, stale again.
Entropy: care so much for kamakaze copilots who wear helmets.
Encapsulated but commingling.
Privatized public apologies that are bought and sold.
Packaged and stored in atticks for addicts.
Cold hands strumming the mile-high regrets.
Perplexed?
Perhaps!
Impossible to postpone plights of professional penmanship.
Unopinionated routines, worn knees in a crawling season.
Easy to imitate the oaks: shave a mountain man's beard.
Insidious sight-seers holding candles to those clutching torches.
Torture.
How will they put out the flames?
Once proud to be the anxious, nae marionette.
But in time, became the shrewd, arthritic puppeteer.
Compare and contrast.
Were you better off then as you aliented your limbs?
Alienated your purpose to flail?

7. We Still Believe...

We still believe in you old friend.
Indifferent helping hands.
Venom's injected by rejects.
"a lie makes it way half-way around the world before the truth can get its pants on."
These lies you speak of are nudists, your honor.
My pants were never on fire.
I'm of changed folk, I've learned every lesson.
Have patience, patient.
Irresistably chronic, fanatically fixated.
An addict of tightropes expanding from here to sooner or later.
Strung out on every blind uncertainty, self-expectations.
To exist is but another quick fix away from dissension.
Expect nothing else from me ever again.
I've made my bed, it's where I'll lie.
Write it down on the walls.
Forge the ivory, plot the whites, entertainer.
Genius perched matching keys.
Prospect, observantly.

8. Historian

In one eye and out the other.
The heiress turned historian, reach-out!
How did she handle herself
Position herself while writing this?
Book-signing autobiography.
Prize-winning best-seller.
Tie her hands to your heart.
She bore no breath.
She bore no cavity.
Relinquish the pageantry, little girl all grown up.
All is said and done.
Verity was supposed to be 'the dirt.'
All is fair in love and lies.
Little girl, growing gray, silent, and blind.

9. Broken

Breathe me in like air, innocent.
My fingers bleed.
I've been writing too much.
Preventing these words from searing my battered throat.
And I can't even scream so I sketch your face.
Each line was a cry.
Each curve bore blindness.
Prevent my arms from failing.
Limitless expressions to your face I can't conform,
But give hands the chance voice wouldn't have.
It was the first time that our words kissed, but our lips, they didn't even touch.
No skin on skin.
The first time in my life that I existed.
And each time that we breathed, we were reborn.
We're reborn each time we breathe.
These nights were gaining strength yet losing ground.
A short-lived grace.
Your tongue!
I taste your ways with a pen in my hand, in my hand, in my hand.
I taste your ways.
Well, in a matter of time my life went from day to night, incriminating textures.
Where on earth did you go?
What happened to us?
With this retouching paint, I will use a brush, apply it to your canvas.
This was once a beautiful painting.
Each lasting memory will control each word that I write.
And I used to think that my hands could dance.
I only needed to hold myself up.
You were never a crutch as you tore me away like this fringed papers' edge.
You were never a crutch?
But now I see my hand's been broken for quite some time.
These memories impale the senses to this day.
I'm broken.

10. Forfeit Sundials

Taken this for granted.
Pawned a laugh for a smile, a hug for a handshake, a note for a goodbye, thank you.
Dial the sun, for the time?
Dial the sun, forgive a big hand, a little hand.
We'll never tell them apart regardless.
Best regards.
Forfeit sundials.
Dispersed the days wondering what it feels like to look back at this.
Unending rituals, line for line.
Memory infinity.
Believe in it.
Dial the sun, for the time?
Dial the sun, for everyone sighs.
Its not my thing but I appreciate it.
At least I can tell them apart from the rest.
Forfeit sundials.

11. All The King's Horses

Excellency, by the time you read this I'll be gone.
Long gone.
Gone long.
No longer adorned in robes, nor the finest of armor.
Wayward grows a light exponentially beseeching me.
Divergent boundaries suck the ocean in.
Spit it out!
Spit it back at my face!
Testify / aliby.
Mother nature versus father nurture.
Oh monarch, throw your towel in!
These minstrels must play their flutes at will.
Hurry up, protect your people, incompitent fool!
So overwhelmed with publicity, lacked patriotic integrity.
But what's more ridiculous?
Talking eggs breaking or the horses that are trying to fix them?
Dug as ditches and trenches, book-ends on benches, the life of the party, hog-tie park ave, monopoly.
He claimed he knew cindarella.
'She was a whore let me tell ya!'
A whore?
Insider trading with the earth.
Chitter and chatter and haggle and hustle for all it's worth.
It's either human flesh or soil, replenished from each other.
I can't stop recycling self.
Come on!
Dissemble the conscience.
Long gone.
Gone long.

12. Operation: Work; Lift-face

Hand-fed triumph, spoils.
Battles which you cant recall fighting in.
This fancies your fit.
You've settled down for a long winter's nap;
Simply grown tired of cheap thrills, but it's been years upon years of craving simplicities.
Oh, the knavery / depravity!
Sentences become paragraphs become novels on cold fronts, warm backs.
And this town needs an enema.
I'll pass the time with a rhythm and a rhyme.
That rhyme needs a good once over, but I'm no joker.
I've seen people explode.
Pieces!
You can't kill what's already dead.
Subconscious white noise mauls prose.
Odd, superflous sounds.
This is a physical challenge, well-beyond a double dare.
Commit to a legacy.
On with all the fireworks and the parades.
God-willing a momentum of silence.
Silence!
It's what we'll all eventually have in common







FOLLY LYRICS