this is an sos this is a manifesto this is a declaration of independence this is some shitty punk song this is profound this is meaningless this is pop this is unlistenable this is derivative this is genius this is boring nobody's listening, but I don't mind at least it's something to do this ain't a hobby, it sure aint art I'm being torn apart this is an instruction manual this is a t-shirt slogan this is a pamphlet this is a time capsule this is just noise this is catharsis this is anxiety this is drugs this is all those things this is none of those things this is a contradiction no it isn't nobody's listening, but I don't mind I'm being torn apart

i don't wanna feel love i just wanna cause pain in third person wanna blot out your sun with storm clouds and rain in third person won't let you forget any human mistakes in third person you're staining my screen won't stop til you break in third person your days fill with dread your happiness drained but you're not real to me you are all just the same immune to the guilt it feels just like a game in third person

this ones for all the bands that will never learn that playing in C standard does not make them queens of the stone age drunk on their own masculinity think their leather jackets make them look below 50 still call emo bands "wimpy and gay" it's not their fault they didn't book any women chicks just don't dig the rock all that much, man couldn't guess why, when they're all so respectful and nice the band plays sludge-punk-desert-hardcore bet it will sound just like everyone else though low tuned guitars, riff on 0 3 5 forever shut up and play the hits your new stuff sounds like shit and i can't headbang to any of it shut up and play the hits I only came to fuck up this pit i was a big deal before all you kids wasn't music so much better in the 70's? where if you were white and rich you'd be swimming in groupies if you were famous you could get away with anything stay skinny with a diet of heroin you're not a rebel, not an underdog or outlaw you're a mediocre white man who treats artists like they're gods fuck your idol worship and fuck eric clapton

eugenics, genocide, and slavery segregation, wartime atrocities there are some things that are not up for discussion (and never should be) but you insist with clenched fists facts and logic lies and fraud ammo for the the firing squad facts and logic nothing more so modify them even the score you're full of shit and you know it

who would choose to play a game they cannot win? who would want any of this? the machine hums, always consuming it's constantly there, in the background who would choose to play a game they cannot win? it almost feels like a joke my mind keeps racing against itself and occasionally, it tries to kill me the machine hums, always consuming it's constantly there, in the background maybe i should just shut up, and be happy with what i have smile into the void, and the void smiles back, but i never asked for any of this i was born against my will

he's on again and i just wanna scream knowing that he could get away with anything i could rant to my family but i'll know what they'll say "you have no proof you're just jealous and you wanna see him fail" well, that last part is true i just feel so sick watching him smile and laugh with other celebrities i thought it was common knowledge i thought everyone kinda knew we talked about it back in school everyone had got a few messages saved everyone had stories and yet he got away and he'll get away with it he'll get away with it again and again

putting pennies on the tracks of the train and sprinting across six lanes of traffic the cops will never find me here if they do, they will not be prepared how tragic the glass within my lungs helps me to breathe my diet of sugar cleans my teeth the bomb strapped to my chest keeps me intact and so do the ants in my respiratory tract this is a breach of contract

hey joanne! where you going with that pen in your hand? are you gonna write about something you don't understand? are you gonna throw away all the acclaim that you had? was that what you wanted? was that always the plan? joanne are you gonna play the victim again? hard to do now that you've claimed nazis as your friends or pissed off people that supported you since they were ten blinded til the bitter end when i was a kid, i read one of your books, in three nights, skipping sleep. now when i open them i can just see the ramblings of a spineless, liberal coward, a love letter to the status quo hey joanne! where are you gonna run to now? you're exhausting the supply of people that will hear you out so you hide in your castle and claim that you've won terrified of everyone

a sickening crunch like bones giving in to the pressure incomprehensible pain a scream that rips up the sutures i used to feel such pain but time has made me so numb now i just feel weak tempted every day to succumb i can't enjoy the oxygen that i'm stealing cause while others float, i can feel myself sinking i'm better now, still i can't get rid of this awful, terrible, horrible feeling alright now, just relax you might feel a little sting just leave it to us we'll take care of everything stretching the sinew and ripping through skin joints dislocated, and lungs collapsing losing hope of ever getting better still waiting for the pain to register alright now, just relax you might feel a little sting just leave it to us we'll take care of everything a sickening crunch like bones giving in to the pressure incomprehensible pain a scream that rips up the sutures i can't enjoy the oxygen that i'm stealing cause while others float, i can feel myself sinking i'm better now, still i can't get rid of this awful, terrible, horrible feeling

day after day after day after day after day i throw my life and my free time away week after week after week after week after week there is no end to my losing streak just a half an hour then i can go home just 15 more minutes then i can go home but the clock moves slower when i'm watching it it drags maybe i can get someone else to punch me out or hide in the bathroom, or just punch out early a few moments won't make any difference not to me, anyway day after day after day after day after day i throw my life and my free time away year after year after year after year after year all that i am is resentment and fear just a half an hour then i must go back just 15 more minutes then i must go back

it could happen to you but that's not why you should care it's wrong and cruel but that's not why you should care either a real person will be harmed not just an abstraction on your phone screen but that's still not why you should care you should care because it makes you look cool i can't deal with big crowds so while the protesters march i'm home trying to yell at the government 'til something happens (yell at the government 'til something happens) so when the revolution begins what are my options then? other than to yell at the government 'til something happens (yell at the government 'til something happens) we'd all like to say we'd be brave but most of us will never know it could happen to you

languages don't die, they are murdered then used as examples for why the murderer must be protected perspectives are lost every day undocumented, unwritten, unknown the data is corrupted, and the corruption is spreading soon we will all become lost media the book of life is written by each and every person but none of them will ever hear the unabridged version it's never enough it never ends. memory's work is never finished. piracy is preservation. so much life changing art only exists now as numbers in a cloud. imagine risking erasing beethoven's 5th forever every time you format your hard drive. the full story is lost, a little every day. every time that blood gets spilled, the ink gets spilled in turn every time a life is lost, a few more pages burn the book of life is written by each and every person but none of them will ever hear the unabridged version it's never enough

the moon's so pretty tonight the moon's so pretty tonight the moon's so pretty tonight the moon's so pretty tonight it shines so bright i forget all my fears caresses my cheek, wipes away my tears no longer filled with fright the moon’s so pretty tonight the moon's so pretty tonight the moon's so pretty tonight despite the chaos that is surrounding me i’ll soon go deaf from all the agonized screams they ring inside my head my family is dead though it may not seem right the moon's so pretty tonight it starts in my chest and moves on to my head, soon spilling out, all red and sinewy, onto the streets, warping them in the heat. there he came, all dressed in his prettiest blues, the defiler of the skies, speaking venom and filth. propagandist, with his fist he shall quell the mob. god's chosen hero and the devil himself in the flesh. take 68 steps into the alley, turn sideways and paint the bricks with your vomit. ascend. become the vomit. control the vomit. let the vomit inside you. let it engulf you and drown you. descend. open your eyes. kiss the pavement. thank the pavement. contemplate your next choice of drink. have an argument with a stranger about disney. let the argument devolve into screaming about capitalism. exploitation of the worker, wage theft, karl marx, leftist fascists, operation northwoods, the whole works. take 68 steps. consider this as you take fists to the face and kicks to the stomach. ascend. descend. ascend. descend. 8 billion and decreasing by the second. ascend, ascend. he has come. a failure on two legs. become the vomit. ascend. ascend. one 100 years from the battle of blair mountain, and yet nothing ever changes. turn sideways. peaceful protests against the hostile police. non-violent revolution against a violent army. a vote against the fascists that made the voting machines. for every politician we bribe, we plant one tree. kiss the pavement. imperialists with rainbow flags. descend, descend. collect mental illnesses and body aches for a wage that’s spent on fixing them. buy. never sell. the whole works. observe patterns in your own behavior. yell “fuck the system!” alone in your room. declare yourself an activist. regret it immediately and claim to know nothing about politics. ascend. the word “love”. actual hate. ascend. the idea of love. tangible hate. ascend. ascend. ascend. Warping them in the heat, onto the streets, all red and sinewy, soon spilling out, it starts in my chest and moves on to my head. THE MOON'S SO PRETTY TONIGHT THE MOON'S SO PRETTY TONIGHT THE MOON'S SO PRETTY TONIGHT THE MOON'S SO PRETTY TONIGHT THE LIGHTS GO OUT ALL ACROSS THIS GLOBE AND WITH IT DIES MY LAST SHRED OF HOPE WE CANNOT FIND OUR WAY OUT OF THIS MAZE WE COUNT DOWN THE LAST FEW DAYS WE BREATHE THE TOXIC FUMES THAT HAVE REPLACED THE ATMOSPHERE WE CRY BECAUSE WE KNOW THAT SOON WE'LL LOSE ALL WE HOLD DEAR AND BEFORE I KNOW IT EVERYBODY THAT I LOVE ARE GONE THEY GOT PICKED OFF ONE BY ONE AND NOW I AM THE LAST ONE SO I STEP OUTSIDE AND FEEL THE SULFUR BURNING UP MY SKIN FEEL THE REALIZATION GRADUALLY SINK IN LAY BACK IN THE GRASS AND LOOK UP AT THE NIGHT SKY AS I GO DOWN WITHOUT A FIGHT the moon's so pretty tonight