Am I a Buddha?

Running Down a Dream

Walking in the sky

finale

The streets are wrapped in tinsel
the smiles all look the same
Every store's got a soundtrack
and each one's to blame
I hum a line of something real
it fades into the air
Guess no one buys a Christmas song
that tells you it's unfair

All these empty wrappers
shining on the floor
Used to hold a feeling
don't fit anymore
Tried to write you truth
but it came out wrong
Now I'm stuck in December
with another sad song

There's glitter on the guitar
and hope on credit cards
And peace on earth's postponed again
it's written in the stars
I tried a rhyme with "snowfall"
but it melted when I played
Seems love don't stand a chance
when every chord's cliche

Empty wrappers
pretty lies and bows
Cover up the quiet
no one shows
If joy's a candle
mine burned too long
Just wax on the windows
and a half-finished song

Maybe I'll hang my blues
by the chimney tonight
See if truth fits under
the tree's cold light
Maybe Santa's tired too
with nothing left to bring
Except another chorus
we forgot how to sing

Empty wrappers
rustle when I leave
Even silence
sounds like make-believe
But I'll keep on playing
low and strong
'Cause maybe next Christmas
the truth's still a song

Empty Wrappers

Bluesy Spaghetti Western with a 70's Prog-ish chorus.

The Illicit Frequencies EP

War By Candlelight

Love Of Yesterday

paranoid

All parts by Robert Grigg
Drums By Yamaha Keyboard

One Morning

Let’s enjoy this night out,
Drink this poisoned cocktail,
I don’t have a cock but
At least I’m not in jail 

I grew up in a Kentucky dumpster with a bum on bumps and a bummer it was, sucks a gunner I was that fucked every summer and plucked every feather I’m nuts and the weather is fun and my guts are fantastic.  Elastic, your flaccid,  and rabid and rancid im Gina Da Lesbian showing her ass on acid to a fat chick who’s damaged from pork chops and inbalanced and tragic and challenged to manage the damage of her diet, your quiet and I’m a fucking riot.


I am Da Gina
I Like Vagina
I’m A Dike
With A Bike
Fresh as
North Carolina

I like to scissor chicks in winter kid so our legs light up like splinters you’ve never seen a fire start quicker than when I lick the whiskers.  I’m into big girls, lox pearls and smoke cigs, twirl my head around to scare squirrels I’m mad at the world and the world is a cartoon, looney and rude, hopelessly screwed but I chew off the dark thoughts, my titties are store bought, I shimmy shimmy cocoa puff to wherever the GOATS are cause ima hope star rhyming dope bars for everyone from the pentagon to the pope, rent an office and mope, the Pentecost can’t come soon enough.  I’m Gina Da Lesbian I’m from the moon and tough.


I am Da Gina
I Like Vagina
I’m A Dike
With A Bike
Fresh as
North Carolina

Gina Da Lesbian Ft. Gina Da Lesbian

Another round, another mistake, another “I won’t,” and then I’m down… straight into you.
Play it late. Play it loud. Don’t call me. I’ll call you.
—————————————

Me in the doorway,
Laughing at nothing,
Then gone.
Out on the pavement,
Talking to no one,
Alone.
Night in this city,
Empty as my heart
Right now.
Rain on the river,
Beating the rooftops
Down.

Down, down, down, down, down,
I’m going down, down, down, down, down.

Someone tell me why, tell me why and how,
I’m still in love, still in love, still in love now.
Haunted by words that were never true,
I’m still in love, still in love with you.

And I’m going down, down, down, down, down,
Straight into your arms.

Keys on the table,
Sticky with last night’s
Dust.
Us in the pictures,
Watching me drink and
Rust.
Glass in my fingers,
Cracked like the oaths
We swore.
Heels in the hallway,
Waiting for footsteps
No more.

More, more, more, more, more,
I can’t take no more, more, more, more, more.

Someone tell me why, tell me why and how,
I’m still in love, still in love, still in love now.
Painting stupid futures just for two,
I’m still in love, still in love with you.

And I’m going down, down, down, down, down,
Straight into your arms.

If I called you right now,
You’d let me back in,
With our tired excuses
And our pockets of sin.
We’d be falling down, down, down in those same old bars,
And I’d wake up smiling, still reaching for your arms.

Someone tell me why, tell me why and how,
I’m still in love, still in love, still in love now.
Painting stupid futures meant for two,
Knowing all along they’re not for me and you.

And I need it more
Than you ever knew.
So it’s round, round, round,
Then down,
Straight into your arms…

Straight Into Your Arms

rocking around the christmas tree  (johnny marx)

Some new songs available here: https://axiomsofmediocrity.bandcamp.com/album/eighteen-below

Empty Wrappers

Axioms of Mediocrity