We just can’t help ourselves Can’t even tell you why we do these things And we can’t shut our mouths Just gotta shoot them off before we think It’s not what it looks like (Then what does it look like?) It’s not what it sounds like (Then what does it sound like?) It’s not what it feels like (Then what does it feel like?) It’s not what it smells like (Then what does it smell like?) Cos you and me, we’re like a flint and tinder When we strike the rocks all we will leave is cinders And it looks and sounds and smells and tastes like love But it’s not love Is it just blind instinct That propels us like a wind-up toy And leaves us powerless to do anything other than build up Towers that we subsequently choose to destroy? It’s not what it feels like (Then what does it feel like?) It’s not what it looks like (Then what does it look like?) It’s not what it sounds like (Then what does it sound like?) It’s not what it tastes like (Then what does it taste like?) Cos you and me, we’re like a flint and tinder When we strike the rocks all we will leave is cinders And it looks and sounds and smells and tastes like love But it’s not love What does it feel like? What does it look like? What does it sound like? What does it smell like? Feel it shake, rattle and roll As you surrender to forces you never learned to control And it’s dark and it’s cold and you’re all alone Except the echoes of you whispering “Is anybody home?” Quake and quiver and pray for deliverance Hanging on for dear life when the only way to live is To let go So let go

I’ve turned into a drone So slowly that even now I half-believe I’m a human with a mind of my own Just writing an ironic line in which I falsely claim I’ve turned into a drone So gradually it’s a game of inches and milliseconds You give a little compromise here, they take a little liberty there You turn into a drone So smoothly it’s like broiling an amphibian: You ignore the steady deterioration of the medium you’re living in Scintilla of sensation slip from your cortex to your cuticle While you’re banging your head on your monitor in your beige MDF cubicle But you can’t, you won’t, and you don’t stop Filling in empty data on your grey desktop And all the white boys sing: Why don’t you do something if you think you’re so smart, bro? I’ve turned into a drone But I still remember what it was to feel as humans feel To giggle with life’s glee To weep in the terror of death To shudder in instantaneous post-ejaculatory regret But now all that is gone Like the of the scent of a forgotten summer As all the circuits short And you become a drone What’s the matter with you? You can’t take an ass-beating, bitch? You never learned to keep up a psychological guard While life’s lame bullies and petty tyrants shatter it to shards, singing: Oh this is gonna hurt me more than it hurts you, bro I got the nail-gun I got the duct tape I got the hot glue And the two-by-fours Gonna barricade the windows and bar all the doors Leave a little cat-flap for delivery of pizza and whores And when the tsunami stop-banks have burst And the virus has done its worst I will take my shotgun for a walk ’Twixt the still-twitching bodies of the former middle-managers Putting them one by one out of my misery, and singing: This is gonna hurt you more than it hurts me, bro

Sacred something, weak and wild Bless this ugly useless child Filter him until he’s pure as driven coke Make him better, make him less bad Scrape off the filth he has on his filthy hands Boil him dry and sublimate all of his sins Won’t you help, won’t you help me refrain The tension of temptation’s decimating my brain And all I ever have – repentance songs I have strayed and I have sinned I can’t even touch myself because I don’t know where I’ve been My straight and narrow’s bent and stretched beyond repair So wash my mouth out, wash my brain Steep me in solvents and absolve me of all stains Leave me fresh and lemon-scented on your bench Won’t you help, won’t you help me refrain The tension of temptation’s decimating my brain And all I ever have – repentance songs

He put them in a box He filled the box full of stones And then he took his chisel And he filled it full of holes He flipped it over twice I can still hear the squeals He said, “Now, take them down to the river And throw them in” I took the box in my arms All whimpering and bloody I took a deep breath and I let it out I walked it down to the water’s edge I closed my eyes I told my thoughts not to think I gathered all my strength And I threw But the box wouldn’t sink And the screams grew louder I couldn’t ignore them And I couldn’t make them stop I stood and listened For what seemed forever And in the end I picked up a stone

She She keeps monsters They belong to her Though they’re not exactly pets She doesn’t fear them Though they’re not exactly friendly And she swears They never ate nobody yet She keeps monsters She says she doesn’t feed them She says they’re big enough already And I must say I agree The thing is, though, they’re getting bigger Which makes me think somebody’s feeding them And sometimes I wonder If that somebody’s me I don’t know if I believe in the human soul But I know what I’m scared of She keeps monsters She says she doesn’t feed them But it seems they’re getting bigger So I ask her what she thinks She thinks I’m feeding them, and when I say no She says, “If you don’t feed them, they don’t grow” And then she holds up the mirror: I’ve started to shrink I don’t know if I believe in the human soul But I know what I’m scared of

I was born tiny and wizened and as yellow as the sun It took eight weeks in the incubator before the doc declared me done He said, “I don’t believe in cures, but this boy’s as better as he’s gonna get” And he knew what he was on about – they’ve never found a cure for me yet And I grew out like a fungus though I never grew up much I learned that life is full of lessons if you’re looking for them, such as: Don’t be careful what you wish for; you’ll either get it or you won’t And you’ll be sad or glad accordingly, and sometimes you’ll be both But mostly you’ll just be utterly and completely unknown So I spent my adolescence at the bottom of a well You’d be surprised how quickly one becomes accustomed to the stench Of rising damp, sinking spirits, and the putrefaction underneath your nails As each attempt you make to climb the walls all wet with slime completely fails And when I came of age my father came and handed me a club He’d made from bits of old detritus from the carpark at the pub And he said, “Boy, when you see that monster, take this bitch and fight it any way you can!” When I said, “What monster? Where?” he mumbled something indistinct and then he ran I was barely 25 when I first kissed a girl And I’d like to say I liked it but my head was such a whirlwind Of confusion and befuddlement that truthfully I still haven’t worked it out The best that I can say is that I’ve probably done worse things with my mouth She said, “I kinda like you cos you make me feel like dirt But I can’t keep from wondering if some other man could treat me worse” And I’m a charitable guy so I told her that I hoped that she was right It was the wrong thing to say but then that’s the story of my fucking life So I’m standing with my thumb out on a highway heading west I planned to hitch a ride to Hamilton and drink myself to death But like so many other things, it hasn’t worked out quite the way that I had planned It’s not easy being thick as fucking pigshit but I do the best I can So I climbed the wise man’s mountain just to ask him for a tip He said, “Keep throwing shit at that there wall, and eventually some’ll stick” Now I’ve been throwing shit forever, and it’s piled so high that I can’t see the wall But if I could I bet there wouldn’t be a morsel stuck up there at all And Jesus said he’d send an angel but I don’t think that I’ll pick up when he calls Cos every angel’s just a Lucifer who hasn’t been informed about the fall OMNIA PLENA CUNNO SUNT

We’re wired to forget —old pain and new names —what happened last time —just where we left it —mistakes and repeat them —mistakes and repeat them —well-crafted speeches —faces and numbers —how bad the past was We’re wired to forget —the truth when it suits us —how long it took last time —our real motivation —mistakes and repeat them —what we ever saw in him —what we were driving at —all the good punch-lines —the colour of her eyes But there’s this one thing I can’t erase Though I try and I try We’re wired to forget
 —essential details —what lies we told to whom —mistakes and repeat them —how it came to this But there’s this one thing I can’t erase …

Oh my god, it’s full of stars! Or maybe it just seems so to these twisted senses Defenses tremble with arrhythmia, original sin-bins overflow with outcast schisms In the dusky light of a subfusc dawn they dropped a clusterfuck bomb With a rodeo cowpoke strapped on “yippee-ki-yay”-ing his way into big-bang history – And this is what it sounds like Every god-damned night the undead loiter outside my door just to bug me I’d be glad to join their drooling ranks but the doctors flat refuse to unplug me No matter how I beg What are they after? If it’s brains they eat all I can offer is malnutrition, inefficient intuition, An ever-increasing sense of encroaching dread – will that feed your head? Cos this is what it looks like I built an underground wonderland a thousand fathoms deep By eating dirt dusk till dawn and shitting mortar in my sleep She was hard work knocking all the rooms into place When the only tools I had were my fingers and my face Every time I dug a chamber it’d crumble at the seams Like a shitty simile for all a man’s little dreams And the only sure method for shoring up the walls Was to beat the earth firm with the top of my skull And when the scabs on my scalp began to bleed and to burn I was glad cos it meant the walls were finally getting firm I was bruised and broken when my work was through But then You Only Live Once and I had fuck-all else to do And now? There’s nothing to do at all – And this is what it feels like Listen! Listen! Listen! It is not enough simply to grasp the gravity of this situation Gravity is a force – you do not grasp it, it acts upon you and all the other objects With equal indifference to your life and opinions This is what it feels like This is your brain —on the end of a sharp stick —on the floor – obey the three-second rule, quick! —on duty —on top of Old Smokey —on the verge of an abandoned highway —on location —on edge —on top of the world looking down on creation

I can see you Convincing yourself to love me And I see you Forcing yourself to care And I see you frantically begging both yourself and me to believe you But I don’t – and you won’t So there And I feel you Sliding those hooks up inside me And I know damn well you know I know That when I pull that shit out it’ll sting And I see that look, like this is hurting you more than it hurts me But I don’t believe that You’ve ever really felt a thing I can hear you Mumbling excuses like a schoolboy And I hear you Squirm and squeal like a creature in a trap And maybe you can weasel out of me like an affordable Houdini But you can’t escape yourself And that’s that Men are all bitches, and women are all fools Don’t gimme that look, kid – I’m not the one who made up the rules And they call this shit a game, but what they mean is that It’s something you don’t get paid to do, and you almost always lose But I know what the real thing feels like (What? What does it feel like?) And I know what the real thing tastes like (What? What does it taste like?) And I know what the real thing looks like (What? What does it look like?) [He says] Feel it shake, rattle and roll As you surrender to forces you never learned to control And it’s dark and it’s cold and you’re all alone Except the echoes of you whispering “Is anybody home?” Quake and quiver and pray for deliverance Hanging on for dear life when the only way to live is To let go So let go [She says] I can see you Convincing yourself to love me And I see you Forcing yourself to care And I see you frantically begging both yourself and me to believe you But I don’t – and you won’t So let go

Put your hands around it Guard it like a little flame Cos you never know when it is coming back again Give it space, and give it oxygen and time Don’t give it up Put your arms around it Hold it to you like a charm Let it know you’re never gonna let it come to harm Let it move, and let it breathe and let it grow Don’t let it go And we know not to look back And that’s why we can’t not look back

Here’s to the old and dirty lie: That if you make it through tomorrow, things will be fine Cos it’s an old and dirty lie But it’s a lie that just might save your life You tell yourself, time after time Just get through tomorrow and everything will be fine Then you get through tomorrow, and everything is not fine It’s all just an old and dirty lie So here’s to the old and dirty lie: That if you make it through tomorrow, things will be fine Cos it’s an old and dirty lie But it’s a lie that just might save your life Life’s not a science And life’s not an art Life’s just a machine Designed to grind all of the fibres of your being Till it’s torn every single one apart And we’ve gotta fight it, with every weapon that we’ve got And hope’s the one weapon that’ll work for you Whether it is real or not So here’s to the old and dirty lie: That if you make it through tomorrow, things will be fine Cos it’s an old and dirty lie But it’s a lie that just might save your life Every stupid fucking morning We take our stupid fucking feet We put our stupid fucking shoes on them And get out into the stupid fucking street And just to put one foot in front of the other requires We tell ourselves the oldest and dirtiest of lies And I know it’s all bullshit – yeah, you don’t have to tell me – But it’s bullshit with a power you have to see to believe So here’s to the old and dirty lie: That if you make it through tomorrow, things will be fine Cos it’s an old and dirty lie But it’s a lie that just might save your life

People keep telling me that things change As if love were a shirt or a haircut It’s like saying that buildings just change into rubble People keep telling me that things change People keep telling me all things pass As if love were a fad or a fashion But my love stays standing now I’ve fallen over And people keep telling me that things change People keep telling me I’ll move on As if love were a traveling salesman But my love’s more like something that’s stuck in my throat And people keep telling me that things change