When Killer Whales Drag You to the Bottom of the Ocean

Stash

On Me

Close your eyes say ‘hello’ no one hears anything
But echoes of a tragic play, handing out these stupid names
We’re in easy chairs, everyone is staring blank
We’re all stoned on Novocain, getting charged on memes and click-bait

Searching for the great escape, we find ourselves in flickering screens
A part of the same play, a tragedy with a thousand stages
Maybe you’ll find a TV star, to start a Nazi sing-along
And everyone will join you as you’re pissing on the sideshow freaks. 

	If you want to play the part of the asshole, I know you won’t let me down

On the dark side of a homemade wooden stage, 
you tune your one-string violin and play and play
Carefully placed tattoo stickers on these eyes, 
the color’s faded but you memorized the lines
have you memorized the lines

	If you want to play the part of the asshole, I know you won’t let me down

Rabid dogfight, for all who represent the scene
Fighting for a spotlight, skinny like a laser beam
Networked scholars paint logos on their walls,  
trademark revolutions for imaginary audiences

If you want to play the part of the asshole, I know you won’t let me down

Tragic Asshole

The dawning of a life came like an old blues refrain
For those cast out like victims in a universe at play

The devil and her master left two miracles at war
One far off beyond the seas, One waiting on these shores

Discovery and madness gave us cause to celebrate
The animals that pushed us past the last line I remember

Yea now we’re lost but we were always lost
Straight lines never led the way
To feel this like a child feels
We’d have to make it home
To give that ancient innocence a place to grow
Cause these wounded believers still got soul

Caught up in sensation painting broad strokes on the wall
Once we stepped back we saw pictures of imaginary homes 
Entropy and poetry left us dancing through the dark
The hours just before the dawn were the longest that I’ve known

Yea now we’re lost but we were always lost
Straight lines never led the way
To feel this like a child feels
We’d have to make it home
To bring that ancient innocence to these warm and desperate sounds
Of hysterical believers coming down

May you be slow; May you be joyful; May you shine; 
May be we strong; May we survive; May we be hopeful

Glory, glory...

Mania was a way of faith

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