Lyrics:

3 rings to rule them all…

Friends, blowhards and cunty men: lend me your ears!
Yeast will be the least of our problems: do I make myself clear?!

Give us this day our daily bread…Our bread — and circuses.

Captions, distractions and prison diets.
Fools wearing tutus, ringmaster is quiet.

3 rings to rule them all…

Give us this day our daily bread…
Give us this day our daily bread…Our bread — and circuses.

Look at ‘em go without a net!
Show me some clowns to help elect!
Cannonball blast it seems so real!
Show must go on — you know the deal!
Comin’ to town without delay!
The elephant men are here to stay!

Show must go on — you know the deal!

3 rings to rule them all…

Bread & Circuses

Lyrics:

More than none, but less than some.
A battle cry, or lullaby?
With fingers crossed, behind his back.
He’ll pay you heed, and make you bleed.

This Irish prick…He’s such a dick!
You know his name…His claim to fame!

A helping hand…he gives for free.
So fools rush in, and bend the knee.
But have no fear, cuz he is here.
A paper champ, with rubber stamps.

This Irish prick…He’s such a dick!
You know his name…His claim to fame!
This Irish prick…He’s such a dick!
You know his name…His claim to fame!

This Irish prick…He’s such a dick.
You know his name…His claim to fame.
This Irish prick…He’s such a dick.
You know his name…His claim to fame.
His claim to fame.

Dickie McGeezaks

LYRICS:

My veneer—it flexes, oscillates.
It’s so clear—it’s buried underweight.
Time is near—as we approach the gate.
We all sneer—and try to calculate...

When will they open the door?
We’ve left brown streaks on the floor!
When will they open the door?
We’ve left brown streaks on the floor!

Let’s regroup—and find our state of grace.
Sunken face—inside this wooden space.
Trundle on—we’ll leave without a trace.
There’s the hill—My final resting place.
My final resting place.
My final resting place.

When will they open the door?
We’ve left brown streaks on the floor!
When will they open the door?
We’ve left brown streaks on the floor!

My final resting place.

Simple Machine

Trojan Horsesh**

LYRICS:

The jet-sweep-motion.
Like tides of the ocean.
A cranked-up feeling.
Single-track dealing.

You’re better late than never!
Behind these bars I’m free forever!

Trial by error–the terror!
I feel clairvoyant…and buoyant.
A cult-like group-think…no feelings.
The power of suggestion…I’m lucid—still lucid!

You’re better late than never!
Behind these bars I’m free–forever!
You’re better late than never!
Behind these bars I’m free–forever!

I’m wheezing harder than EVER before!
Pedals churning still asking for more!
Wide awake but I constantly snore!
I’ll never open, won’t open the door!

LYRICS:

My bell got rung like a chime before the service starts.
I sit alone in a daze, a haze of broken parts.
Who is the guy on the ground, a clown, a charlatan.
That massive thorn in your pride, you know the fools rush in.

Lately you can find a man who’s figured out...
all these things you pine for should be filled with doubt.

Just hear me out one more time before it all goes wrong.
It’s all been carefully planned and written like a song.
What is this salty discharge that comes from my own eyes.
It is the product of time, the pressure and the lies.

Yeah!
Time. Pressure. Lies.
Yeah!
Time. Pressure. Lies.

ohhhhhh
ohhhhhh
ohhhhhh

Yeah!
Time. Pressure. Lies.
Time. Pressure. Lies.

Lately you can find a man who’s figured out...
all these things you pine for should be filled with doubt.

Critical Thinking Condition

LYRICS:

I command the sail…
Tattered, torn––set-up to fail.
With compass in hand, I’m just a man.
Wiping tears away-o.
I feel my mind’s for sale.
My heart aches tonight, like I died of fright.

I know we’ll be together.
They say the good die young,
and pricks live forever.

I know I’m back in the saddle.
I lie in wait - up the creek without a paddle, my paddle.
...without a paddle, my paddle.

I know we’ll be together.
They say the good die young,
and pricks live forever.

I know we’ll be together.
They say the good die young,
and pricks live forever.

Why…?

Friday Night Lights

LYRICS:

I can’t help but be amazed
Scared stiff, but still so brave
Broken down and left for dead
Lie down, you’ve made your bed

The clouds begin to churn
Down on the ground the fires here they burn
One day soon we’ll take a look inside
We’ll search the soul of someone to confide

We lay waste to everything
Our third eye half closed and dim
We build wealth so easily
I won’t share, it’s mine you see

The clouds begin to churn
Down on the ground the fires here they burn
One day soon we’ll take a look inside
We’ll search the soul of someone to confide

The game playing in my mind
A bloodsport known by all mankind

I came home to find a way
to break bread and mold the clay
But just then it said to me
The time you waste is time indeed
The game playing in my mind

A bloodsport known by all mankind
The game playing in my mind
A bloodsport known by all mankind

Spellbound By Sound

Reality Bites The Dust

LYRICS:

See how those rusted parts
Still move with stops and starts
But should you sell them now?
Or ride them out someway…somehow?

I like the comfort of knowing all the enemies…mmhmmm.
It gives me something to feel, to speak, to touch, to hear, and see.

I lie in wait down in the weeds
Just molting flesh-toned dirty deeds
I’ll give you all the space and time
Then tear apart what’s yours and mine

I like the comfort of knowing all the enemies…mmhmmm.
It gives me something to feel, to speak, to touch, to hear, and see. 

ohhhhhhh
ohhhhhhh
You let it come between us
I’m not your lonesome, not your lonesome Jesus

Yeaaahhhhhhh

Status Quo Flow

LYRICS:

Let me tell you a story…
it’s bloody and gory.
There’s prophets and sinners…
But who are the winners?
Like crowbars to caskets…
or babies in baskets.
We’re drinking the potion…
It’s all set in motion.

Just waiting on that fine fine paste!
Beaten, bludgeoned and crushed…
till there’s nothing left to taste!

Like parchment to paper,
or water to vapor…
As constant as saviors,
with perfect behaviors.

All these things are episodic,
dynamic yet robotic,
unfeeling while erotic,
A war faught without weapons,
with multiple deceptions,
A camera out of focus,
it’s all just hocus-pocus!

Just waiting on that fine fine paste!
Beaten, bludgeoned and crushed…
till there’s nothing left to taste!

Just waiting on that fine fine paste!
Beaten, bludgeoned and crushed…
till there’s nothing left to taste!

…To taste!

3RDigraphics