Soviet Breakup Songs

I must have been born upside down
That at least explains the feel of pooling blood inside my head
A lifetime spent to right the show
Where's the proof we'd all be better alive than dead

What if what I need
ends up being more than just a moment?
If it's not some malfunction, but is broken?
Tell me, what?
Do I struggle to adapt to some new normal?

What is the meaning of this life?
Have you ever stopped to think about that stupid question?
I don't mean any disrespect.
I just hoped we'd all know better, better by now.

What if what I have
ends up being worse than chronic boredom?
If it's not some malfunction, but is broken?
Tell me, what?
Do I struggle to adapt to some new normal?
To what end?
Preservation of this dark side of mutation?

Once there was a time
When angels filled the sky
Flying monsters with three faces and gigantic wheels of fire,
Apocalyptic servants of a chaotic god
with motivations far beyond the grasp of human minds.
When they return, I hope they come back to the suburbs,
knocking over all the billboards,
backing traffic up for miles,
rubberneckers cry in horror at the judgment of their souls
while the Air Force comes to bring us the greatest show we've ever known.

What if what I am,
some poor kid's attempt to find redemption?
Maybe now I've overstayed my welcome.
What I want,
peace of mind or apocalyptic visions,
either one.
Can I ride an Ophanim into the sunset?
Going mad, 
burning up,
becoming something else than human.

New Normal

Blue-eyed soul about the tides of history.

LYRICS:

Well,
it doesn't take an ivy league to know these aren't good times.
Easier to believe that they are end times.
Surely, something's gotta end.
Look around,
and you will see a world built out of war crimes.
When there's no justice, there's no peace, only fault lines.
The world is cracking up again.

And if you listen very close, you might hear the sound
of the overdue collapse of empire,
something like a million rolling marbles and the slamming of a door.
There will be no return to glory days, it's all been one prolonged dark age,
for a thousand years we've been on a tightwire.
When it all comes crashing down, I'm not gonna mourn.
No, I'm not gonna mourn.

Why
do we talk so much about the way the world is?
Here I thought that the point was to change it,
greet some kind of new dawn.
'Cause right now,
there's a generation of the descendents
of African slaves locked in prison.
We must free them all.

And if you listen very close, you might hear the sound
of the overdue collapse of empire,
something like a million rolling marbles and the slamming of a door.
There will be no return to glory days, it's all been one prolonged dark age,
for a thousand years we've been on a tightwire.
When it all comes crashing down, I'm not gonna mourn.
No, I'm not gonna mourn.

Collapse (Not Gonna Mourn)

Mother Night has come again
Liberating all the light
I've been on this road for day
Not a human soul in sight
And I know no-one will come
no matter how loud I call
Have I simply gotten lost
or is there no-one left at all?

Am I the last man left on Earth?
Am I the last man left on Earth?

Try hard though I might
I still can't seem to see
I don't care where you all went
but why did you leave me?
Was it something that I said,
or someone that I wronged?
Did you finally realize
that I simply don't belong?

If I'm the last man left on Earth,
there's no-one to let down.
No one left to grieve
if I'm not around.
No-one to be disappointed
when I'm not the man they thought I was,
if I'm the last man
if I'm the last man
left on Earth.

Goodbye, cruel world.
Goodbye, cruel world.
Goodbye, cruel world.
Goodbye, cruel world.

Oh but why do I feel the same?
Am I really just that broken?
Scattered tools left in the rain, or what?

If I'm the last man left on Earth,
I thought I'd be born anew.
Working to survive,
having stuff to do.
Now I only laugh about how
no-one will ever hear my final words.

Goodbye, cruel world.
Goodbye, cruel world.

Last Man Left On Earth

There's people dying down the road
The doors are locked up tight
Jesus sits above the doorway
With a shotgun by his side

They live so conveniently bereft of any self awareness
No pressure to abide by values self-professed
He wouldn't know, know, a dying world if it hit him in the face

They celebrate new acquisitions
He cracks open a beer
There's people dying down the road
They better not come here

They live so conveniently bereft of any self awareness
No pressure to abide by values self-professed
He wouldn't know, know, a dying world if it hit him in the face

Thank God for our suburban paradise
Thank God the line keeps going higher
Thank God for country that belongs to us
Thank God for concrete, for barbed wire

They live so conveniently bereft of any self awareness
No pressure to abide by values self-professed
He wouldn't know, know, a dying world if it hit him in the face
So vacantly believes his favorite talking heads
No desire to help anyone except himself
He wouldn't know, know, a revolution if it shot him in the head

Suburban Paradise

Inspired by the book "Jailbird" by Kurt Vonnegut.

LYRICS:

I had a dream some time ago, I don't remember when.
I watched a man walk slowly to his death.
I did not know what he had done to get him such a fate
But I was sure that I was to be next.
Twelve cold men all raised their rifles, ready for the call
when their target bellowed, "Have you any doubt?
For it's but the feeble laws of man who hold the trigger now
but I've lived and died by the Sermon on the Mount.
I've lived and died by the Sermon on the Mount"

Be good, for good can't be a crime.
It could, but don't pay that any mind.
You don't need to be a Messiah or even a Harvard Man, 
like that could ever help you understand.

And when the man upstairs condemns you 
for the crime of speaking out,
just remind him of the Sermon on the Mount.

Be free, but know that you're not free.
After all we become what we pretend to be.
Remember Sacco and Vanzetti, executed by the law.
Ideas: they're the biggest crime of all.

And when the man upstairs condemns you 
for the crime of speaking out,
just remind him of the Sermon on the Mount.

Be kind, for kindness will prevail
and love, but know that love may fail.
We can't control the weather, and money's just as wild
so clap three times and bear it with a smile.

And when the man upstairs condemns you 
for the crime of speaking out,
just remind him of the Sermon on the Mount.
And when the world's best intentions
fall to pieces, give a shout
to God Almighty, the laziest man in town,
to God Almighty, the laziest man in town.

badfaker

Pinned to spotlight

Popular tracks