We've been getting a lot of request for the lyrics that accompany the songs from that album that we've all been hearing so much about. So, here they are!
Fear and Loathing in Mahwah, NJ
Why do you do the things you've done and how dumb would you have to be to do them again like I know you're going to? If you're the poet you say you are and beauty's in everything you see, then how can love exist in a world run by people like you? Because when there's suffering, you're there. From southern trees, you hang them in the air. The world screams out in agony and you don't care, but should the shit hit the fan, I just pray you will not be spared. Fuck you.
You took a heart with so much room for love and filled it with hatred and rage until there was nothing left but for it to shrivel up and die. People will tell you that if you don't love your neighbor, then you don't love God, but no god of mine would put light in such unrighteous eyes. Now the way we hold each other so tight would look more like a noose if held up to the light because we betray each other in dreams every night. Now let's never speak of it again, all right?
My Time Outside The Womb
The first thing you see is the light. Then, you focus on a man in a mask with a knife as he cuts you away from everything you thought you knew about life. Now you're in your mother's arms, wrinkled and wet. You'll spend the rest of your life trying to hard to forget that you met the world naked and screaming and that's how you'll leave it.
In Riverside Hospital, on a July morning, with a push and a pull - this is how I found out I wasn't quite so invulnerable. It put the fear of God in me when I heard my daddy say, "one mistake is all that it takes."
I ended up at Central School, 1993, and met a certain kid named Sarim at the library. He said, "they're ain't nothing about this place that's elementary." I learned to play the guitar in the seventh grade in order to convince everyone I was a renegade. That's when I learned, in Glen Rock, everybody calls a spade a spade. I couldn't fool anyone. I couldn't even fool myself. I was just another book on the shelf, nothing else.
Joset of Nazareth's Blues
There is nothing I've ever done I didn't learn to be ashamed of . There is no hope or no dream I won't curse and demean. If that's what it takes, that's what I'll do. If that's what it takes, I will. I hope I never get my fill of pushing this boulder up on this hill, getting to the top and taking a spill. Every time's like the first time. Every time is the same, and maybe you don't believe me now, but you will. Until you hang upon such a cross, you won't know a thing about laughter or loss. From Galilee to Gethsemane to Golgotha is a short walk, a short, short walk.
Arms Against Atrophy
A band trip dance - what could be the harm, but a six week vacation from the use of my right arm? Just the two hits, I remember nothing more: Alex hitting the switch and me hitting the floor. We're taking this lying down. The one thing I can stand up for is resting supine on the ground. Mr. McDermott, won't you help me to my feet? Because the drumline's going wild in the San Francisco streets.
The long walk home, an hour and a half, quickly turns to three or four with stops at every underpass, but by June 22nd, I have done the math. That's a hundred and five liters I'll consume of Dr. Path. Some girls will tell their secrets to anyone. The word "love" gets thrown around a lot near graduation, so please don't whisper sweet nothings in my ear when the sound of shredding vocal chords is what I want to hear, because we're going to San Francisco and I forget to wear some flowers in my hair.
She's got a secret surname that nobody knows with the most gorgeous hyphen (you wouldn't believe the way it glows) and I'm the only one who gets to see it way up close, so the rest of you can stick it up your nose. Last night, I had the strangest dream that I have ever known - my mother, in a fit of rage, chases me from our home. My mother, the murderer holds me down in the road. She's got the nail clippers at my throat.
Even though things lately may have been real horrorshow, I'm wishing I was back in utero. I'd like to go back to the way that things were before, but apparently, I'm looking at physical therapy. It won't be exactly how it used to be. It ain't hard to see that it's not that way, not that way anymore. Jesus Christ is suffering upon his cross tonight. I just sit outside waiting for frost to bite. "It's always this way," she says on her way out the door. Wait and see. The rest is yet to reveal itself to me.
Upon Viewing Bruegel's "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus"
I was born into self-actualization, I knew exactly who I was, but I never got my chance to be young, so when you lay me inside of a coffin, bury me on the side of the hill. That's a good place to get some thinking done. It didn't work out the way that I planned it. They all seem to want to take it away, everything that I thought to be true, so it's obvious to me somebody, somewhere must have really done a number on you and I know because the fuckers got me too. All the pretty horses, all flowers and trees, they will all mean less than nothing when it all has come to be.
God sent me a vision of the future in a dream on a Saturday night and I see no reason to celebrate, for when I saw it I wept like a child. It came to me like a knife in the chest. You and me and everyone, forever, to ache and ache and ache. So Father, if it's possible, let this cup pass me by, but if it can't without my drinking it, then thy will be done.
Titus Andronicus
Throw my guitar down on the floor. No one cares what I've got to say anymore. I didn't come here to be damned with faint praise. I'll write my masterpiece some other day. I'm repeating myself again. Innovation, I leave to smarter men. Pretty melodies don't fall out of the air for me; I've got to steal them from somewhere, but it doesn't matter what you do or how hard you try. Now there's nothing left for me to do except die. When they cut you up and tell you that it's not going to hurt, but they are not going to stop until they see you go to sleep in the dirt.
There'll be no more cigarettes, no more having sex, no more drinking until you fall on the floor, no more indie rock, just a ticking clock. You have no time for that anymore. You better watch where you run your mouth, because you know what they'll say to you. They'll say, "your life is over. I insist you cease to exist. Die. Your life is over."
No Future Part I
Just give me a suitcase and I'll promise to not look back. Just point me, point me towards the railroad track. I've been staring at the gates, but I've never found a crack, so I'm just looking up, saying, "Deliver me a heart attack." If you're weary, I don't mind sharing the load, just keep me some company on the road. All I've got is a bottle that I ought to leave alone, but it's the only thing that I can call my own, so I'm saying goodbye, and no, I won't forget to write. It's just been too long racing towards a yellow light, and I know that I say this every night, but I don't think I've ever been so tired of life.
And if things should not get better, would you wait for me to change, or would I see you waving goodbye from the window of an aeroplane? If I told you it was hopeless, would you try to understand, or would you leave me for a palm tree and its shadow on the sand? Because I've been waiting all year for the temperature to drop, but now I've got a fever and I don't know how to make it stop. There's still one shoe that hasn't dropped yet. It's hanging on by an aglete. This world seems like a nice place to visit, but I don't want to live in it.
There is not a doctor that can diagnose me. I am dying slowly from Patrick Stickles Disease. There is not a medication that can cure what's ailing me. The only treatment they offer is to hang me from a tree. Life's been a long, sick game of "Would You Rather, so now I'm going to medical school... as a cadaver. Now if I could say only one thing with the whole world listening, it would be, "Leave me the fuck alone... or welcome to the Terrordome."
No Future part II: The Day After No Future
Oh, I recall the last morning the sun would rise on the race of man, after which, it was clear, nothing could be the same again. When called to answer for their crimes, the only response that they could find was that it seemed like a good idea at the time. Now the sun in the sky has turned to dust, the rivers are running red with blood, and the cries of the helpless are never, never enough.
And those of us who were still alive were rightly afraid to go outside, when VuBu said, "This isn't shoegaze - this is suicide." Then they came with torches and pitchforks, carrying clubs, guns and sharp swords, when the loudest voice I ever heard said, "It's over."
Albert Camus
Running around this run-down, one-horse town.One of these days, they're gonna crucify me. How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable it is to be young, dumb, and have lots of money. We will sit upon this grassy knoll, holding hands and stroking handguns, with pristine souls, and even my own mother will tell you I am an asshole, but underneath it all, there is an apathetic heart of gold. So who will be saved, from the least to the greatest men? Because even Honest Abe sold posion milk to schoolchildren.
The blood drive came to Glen Rock High in a white bus with red letters on the side and a long shiny needle they brought to suck me dry like missionary misquitoes in the sky. Now you're doing time for stealing candy from a babe because all the kids in Ridgewood have got cell phones these days and if you wear a mask, they can still read your license plate and a wireless line is a terrible thing to waste. Because the more we think, the less it all makes sense, tonight we will drink to our general indifference.
Lamb of God, we think nothing of ourselves at all. So, Death, be not proud because we don't give a fuck about nothing and we only want what we are not allowed.