Xylophone July 8, 2008 It's such a step down in our plastic little world where women fit the fashion, instead of the other way around Genderfuck acid trips glam rock, industry meets industrial metal You'll never understand the perspective of anyone who's ever rocked that stage that fucking stage anyone who's tripped on screaming fans I've got little spirals in my head and little scars on my skin holes in my t-shirts from tripping on boxes packed with flashing lights in bars where we set up and spread our sweat on all the drunks I forced my sing-song, sweet, French horn voice into a grungy little growl like honey dripping fingernails on thick bassy strings wrapped around the neck of a guitar shaped like the body of a woman being strangled slowly and I beat my guitar and played my chords and licked away, played leads so you could dance swinging your hair across my feet because all I could see was my muse screaming for me with arms writhing in the air because I laid my cross down like a perfect jack ass when the silver didn't get along with me I left those swinging braids and swirling skirts far behind in my memory with chanting and drumbeats and little tendrils of smoke and tears as I put on a coat with chains and long black sleeves that laced up my hips and waist, laced my waist fit the coat and the boots fit the studded strap fit the red Strat fit the fans Whatever idea they had in mind, we fit we were metaldogs, wandering stages and venues and minivans the way seadogs wandered the oceans with flags and bottles I forgot what it was all like to believe in something bigger than the music But I also didn't realize what it was like out of the studio where you could sell your soul for the right mascara My muse could be a traitor The people out there aren't looking for truth or anything sacred or anything beautiful or deliberate or disciplined they want perfection plastic perfection and a piss-coloured beer on the side and that's why there isn't a high as good as trying to show them something raw and heartfelt and failing, pain being a little better than passion when you throw your voice to the crowds and the winds So I'm low, low down, honey Withdrawals lace my mornings and my evenings and I want to sleep it off in the afternoon when I paint my fucking pictures for children in churches because the world is hollow and I'm still asking Is God in the silence? Shaman Song March 6, 2007 I am the missing piece I am the nowhere doll I am the moon alone I am nothing at all I am the blood on the blade I am the arrow in flight I am the fall of the sparrow I am everything that is I am the howl of the wolf I am the song in the skies I am the voice of the wind I am the absolution I am the ice on the sea I am the eagle that dives I am the spirit in a tree I am the beginning I am the death of the people I am the end of the chain I am the wilt of the flower I am the one answer I am the laughter of a child I am the birth of a hero I am the code of a king I am the full question I am the truth in the text I am the painting on the wall I am the scheme of the tapestry I belong to this world I am the siren of the cosmos I am the conjurer of waves I am the rain, I am snow, I am sea All of the singing winds answer to me I belong to this world Family Values March 1, 2007 A bleeding heart, a burning torch, and a questing mind They say these will win me nothing but a waste of time I have to wonder who reversed the sun and the sea That those who seek right are wrong is a shameful decree I've got enough stereotypes to lay down a new foundation With all my mixed bloods I could call myself a nation And why not? I could call my mother a book and my father a tree After all, a bit of smoke, a smidgeon of magic and starch, that's me We have to build our own identity and that is our curse It seems our reputation builds off of our very worst I look around at people and wish society would just cease Growing up the way I did it's no small wonder I'm a beast Kingdoms Fall Summer 2004 What lieth low the dark powers fright'ning? Angelic strength, the fair sun bright'ning? Human blood, found amongst the mighty Virgin young, full in her piety God's Word, made flesh, in a flash of lightning Who lives what he speaks under tribulations great? Prophets of old, those blessed men of late? Son of Man, found amongst the rotten Come at last, to save God's forgotten Jesus, Nazarene, object of hate Bidding us to himself The Way, the Truth, and the Light All other Kingdoms fall but this, in everlasting life What crown doth he don, what garb of royalty? A ring of thorns, in shameful nudity? Our rightful share, he taketh it to eternity The cross he bears, unjust death pays our penalty On Calvalry, Salvation brought for humanity What throne doth he sit, what province command he? Jerusalem, Judea's holy city? The curtain torn, in the Righteous amendment The old one shorn, Christ's blood the new Covenant Ne'er by bread alone, let the lame dance, the blind see Bidding us guard his flock We as salt, as fruit, as light All other Kingdoms Fall but His, dazzling, full of life Devil thieving- A robber waiting, 'round the bend Shocked to find a domain in Christ the Son All things shall fail- Perish, in their frailty come to an end Kingdoms fall away with time, save But one The Everlasting Realm, our battle's already Been won Star-Spangled Children Does our star-spangled crest still stand for the ideal to which we pledge our allegiance? Does the idea of America still possess its appeal for the scores and teeming masses? Does our promise-giving government still torrent so unaware of the national disappointment? Does our ambitious military movement still think freedom's all we'll share with those in a tyrannical imprisonment? Does our great industrial achievement make everything alright and reduce the people's bereavement? Does our society deny for a moment that our soldiers are left to forever fight Far from here their terroristic opponent? Does our precarious moral system still base itself on truth and teach us right and wrong? Does the corrupted economic bureau still consider poverty uncouth and turn beggars away from its doors? New World Winter 2006 Welcome the new world. Time goes on without us all, Am I living, or am I dead? I want to burn out the cobwebs Filling that hollow place in my chest And burn the blank page of flesh Before the fires inside are ash Life goes on through love and hate, Is it the end, or doesn't it? Many simply pass the harmed by Leaving the robbed and beaten to die They rain blows and don't know why Do they still think to see us cry? Pyres will burn and men bring dust, Satisfied yet, or is it done? You'll never learn to really see Follow ambition now so blindly You think it's right to laugh as we bleed? We'll find you with our own mirth once freed! Wounded we are We carry our scars Like the weight of a dying body Why they won't see How the marks came to be Might never be rightly explained High on our pain It becomes our name Leaving the guilty ones to resume Never exhumed Damaged down to our hue Like a sword marred by a fatal flaw Yet we'll never be the blades Plunging through the remaining helpless Remember? That's your arena Just remember A glass sword is worth much Because it shatters inside as recompense Beware the weapons you flaw and make brittle The jagged edges you leave might tear you in the end This false start might yet end Mired in all our tired skeins, Let us end this, and begin true.