I don't wanna dance I'd rather spend money that i don't have I don't wanna kiss I'd rather write a song that I'm smarter than I don't wanna sneer alone but I will if I think that it might end up on the internet I got seventeen cars lined up behind me as I watch you with another man Dance to the Dead Horse Beatoff if you don't care Dance to the Dead Horse Beatoff if you're not scared Dance to the Dead Horse Beatoff if you know that love is a lie Dance to the Dead Horse Beatoff la-la-la-la-lie We're taught what's good but we discover what's bad with our own hands Look in the frontier of Sin and then turn around again real fast return when we're all alone to our little secret that everyone else already knows about Take a breath and go back home after another phony romance Dance to the Dead Horse Beatoff Broke another light bulb stole another beer spilled it on the armchair Dad says "who's gonna pay for that shit" I said "i don't care" Dance to the dead horse beatoff as old as a judge and as fresh as a brain freeze Stick-and-poke a 'fuck' in my arm speak my mind with my hair Dance to the dead horse beat off

Back in front of the old flickering screen We put up our hands and all say "weeee!" in perfect sync with that old stock-footage of the Little Red Wagon running free This time the club is an asymmetrical Greyhound Barreling blindly through a barbed wire desert town A town laid out with the violence of a chess board Spangled with identical fonts in a font war And billboards that don't even bother to look up as they flip you off anymore So I look out the window and what did I see? I see my own self staring back at me But somehow to mention it would be bad poetry cuz I only circle that drain when life enters her hellish circular swing of unrelenting logic and I can't find the art to forgive her so instead I look around for what in me needs tending to Being crushed to death by a giant Eye is not whats meant by the examined life and it annoys the woman on the seat to my right so she stands and she flicks off the overhead light we picked ourselves up a little wandering chorus that reeks of sage and hails itself a support group for those who are ashamed of their shame of their love of cliches Cliches like the greyhound to Louisiana And not being killed by this old hammer But rather killing yourself when you're stripped of your right to be vulnerable when you're up in front of a microphone and the kiddies in the back all stand up and scream that punk is the reason that art is an adjective and art is the reason that punk was an accident and sex is the reason this place is inhabited and love is the reason I can't fuckin relax and love is the reason that art is a fact and art is the reason that things are Okay and none is the reason the Little Red Wagon gave for running away when it felt like it had its fix

I got the worms of change I'd like to pull em out but I got nowhere to put em yet and I'm not looking for a fast-forward or a rewind but maybe a better plot or maybe a better setting maybe a time in which i could jump on the back of a train and feel the wind in my hair you know yesterday I felt so strong felt like I could jump on the back of a train and there'd be wind for my hair felt like I understood love songs turns out they're a lot like normal songs but with "I" and "you" instead of every other pronoun and noun and I felt like I understood Rock n Roll Cuz i felt like listening to rock n roll and it didn't need to justify itself any further to me My first day as a mussel I held on tight every time a wave came My first day as a man I perked up every time my heart beat Now I'm walkin down the 134 to the rhythm of your latest song its such a god damn good song but it smells like piss and turtle here so i turn around to go listen to your song a couple ten more times cuz I gotta torment my self a little more Now walking back along the train tracks I can't help but stare down and try to balance on the rail even though its making me nauseous Its a peculiar kind of self-destructiveness that's just an allergic reaction to our own neurotic compulsions My first night as a man I swore of nights forever I hate 4 in the morning I hate 4 in the morning If you're the kind of boy who gets the shivers when you hear the name Jesus Christ If you're the kind of girl whos butterflies get all a beatin when you hear the Mississippi river referred to as the Jordan river If the battle hymn of the republic gears you up to kill even though you don't believe in god or have a clear cut side that you're fighting for I know how much you Rocka-by-Death And how you cradle the love of another with a condescension from above a kind of distant anthropological love for a love that you think you're better than Well is that love? Is this love? Is that love? Is their love love? Is yours love? Is ours love? is theres love? It couldn't stand in for our love Its not the same thing as my love Its not your love what could stand in for your love? what the hell am I supposed to use to replace your love? Cuz I'm pretty sure that trains aren't gonna cut it and I'm pretty sure that Death and God won't cut it and I don't think that boozing and piercing my ears is enough When I'm supposed to somehow face all my fears and pretend I love it but I'm tough right I can handle it I'm tough right? And it seems like everyone else has already done it but I ache like the icy Feral Hymns of Lungfish I got the worms of You I'd like to pull em out but I just got nowhere to put em yet I'm not looking for a fast-forward or a rewind but maybe a better Me or maybe a better You or maybe a time in which I could jump on the back of a train and feel my hands in Your hair I feel like I understand You Turns out You're a lot like Me but over there and with more power over how I feel and I feel like You understand Me Because I feel like talking to You and I don't have to justify Myself any further to You But it smells like You so I have to turn around and go listen to your song a couple ten more times cuz I

Nothin ain't what it was no more Another corner carried off in the talons of Little Ms McCounterculture I swear she's a cop She's gotta be a cop or something Gotta work for some government agency The Department of Alternative Young People I swear I'm not her I'm not like her I'm like you I swear I'm a victim I'm a victim I'm a victim I'm a victim You know this was mine All of this was mine, rightfully mine and now I can't afford it and I don't even want it anymore now that its all mainstream We probably agree on a lot but I'm gonna start disagreeing here in a second as a protest Cuz i gotta be me baby I gotta be different Here lemme borrow that pen for a second Ima take back whats mine you can never take whats mine You can take my corner and you can take my job you can take my life but you'll never take me baby As long as I got my social security number and my right to boogie You know what? You can have it. You can take it, i don't need it I'm feeling kinda anti-social and insecure and I don't really identify with this number anyway its not really me its more you here try it its 608 96 5679 608 96 5679 My social security number is 608 96 5679 March 24, 1992 608 96 5679

When the light clears, they'll be there Grinning like your conscience sick school principle nonsense Its enough to make your palms wince to know that they are watching constantly Pretending to be the sun after it leaves I'm afraid of the dark for I have seen the dark And the light can never again really fool me When the Street clears, they'll be there slobbering blood slaughtering doves knuckles turning white around a throttled love clinking a bottle of sparking cider stolen from the lips of the folks on the night bus I don't trust a man unless I can see all three of his hands and I can't for the life of me imagine why dogs still like us But dogs still like us, right? How bad can we be? I for one trust their opinion completely The highschool spent twelve thousand dollars on an automated sign that displays the time but dogs still like us sixteen hundred early angels were born this month in Palestine but dogs still like us Some folks clip their pitbulls ears so they're aggressive and fight with other canines but they still like them their dogs still like em When the day clears I'll be there in that hall of mirrors I keep between my ears defending myself in front of my peers whos hellish savage jeering bullies me for who i'll wake up and have to be but i'm so scared of the dark for i have seen the dark and I don't wanna face whats waiting in that sea Achilles Sundown This room is a cave and I'll die a miner's death