1.The Ugly Organist
2.Some Red Handed Sleight of Hand
And now, we proudly present
songs perverse and songs of lament.
A couple of hymns of confession,
and songs that recognize our sick obsessions.
Sing along- I'm on the ugly organ again.
Sing along- I'm on the ugly organ, so lets begin.
There's no use to keep a secret,
everything I hide ends up in lyrics...
so read on- accuse me when you're done-
if it sounds like I did you wrong.
Our father, who art in heaven,
save me from this wreck I'm about to drown in.
Didn't I learn anything counting out
my sins on rosary beads？
The reverend plays on the ugly organ;
he spews out his sweet ad salty sermon
on the audience.
...So why do I think I'm any different？
I've been making money off my indifference.
We all pass the hat around,
'This is my body', this is the blood I found
on my hands after I wrote this album.
Play it off as stigmata for crossover fans...
some red handed sleight of hand.
Woah oh.
3.Art Is Hard
Cut it out- your self-inflicted pain
is getting too routine
the crowds are catching on
to the self-inflicted song
Well, here we go again
the art of acting weak
Fall in love to fail
to boost your CD sales
(And that CD sells- yeah, what a hit)
You've got to repeat it
you gotta' sink to swim
If at fist you don't succeed
you gotta recreate your misery
'cause we all know art is hard
young artists have gotta starve
Try, and fail, and try again
the comforts of repetition
Keep churning out those hits
'til it's all the same old shit
Oh, a second verse!
Well, color me fatigued
I'm hiding in the leaves
in the CD jacket sleeves
tired of entertianing
some double-dipped meaning
a soft serve analogy
This drunken angry slur
in thirty-one flavors
You gotta' sink to swim
immerse yourself in rejection
regurgitate some sorry tale
about a boy who sells his love affairs
You gotta' fake the pain
you better make it sting
you're gonna' break a leg
when you get on stage
and they scream your name
'Oh, Cursive is so cool!'
You gotta sink to swim
impersonate greater persons
'cause we all know art is hard
when we don't know who we see
4.The Recluse
I wake alone, ina woman's room I hardly know.
I wake alone- and pretend that I am finally home.
The room is littered with her books and notebooks.
I imagine what they say, like, 'Shoo fly, don't bother me,'
And i can hardly get myself out of her bed.
for fear of never lying in this bed again.
Oh christ, I'm not that desperate am I？ Oh no- oh god- I am.
How'd I end up here to begin with？ I don't know.
Why do I start what I can't finish？
Oh please, don't parrage me with questions to all those ugly
answers.
My ego's like my stomach- it keeps shitting what I feed it.
But maybe I don't want to finish anything anymore..
maybe I can wait in bed 'til she comes home. and whispers.
'you're in my web now - I've come to wrap you up tight 'til it's
time to bite down.'
I wake alone in a woman's room I hardly know.
I wake alone - and pretend that I am finally home.
home
5.Herald! Frankenstein
'Now I can't stop the monster I've created'
6.Butcher The Song
There's a time and a place, this is neither the time nor the
place.
'Where do I fit in, in this jigsaw of a relationship？!？
Why should I play the fall guy to your love？
I keep getting snubbed... what dumb luck, what dumb luck.'
'So rub it in... in your dumb lyrics.
Yeah, that's the time and place to wring out your bullshit.
And each album I'll get shit on a little more, 'Who's Tim's
latest whore？'
Now, that's not fair - no, that's just obscene.
I'll stop speaking for you if you stop speaking for me.
I'm writing songs to entertian,
but these people... they just want pain.
They want to hear my deepest sins
the songs from the ugly organ.
And what comes out is a horrible mess,
songs I can't forget
what's been said and this guilt I can't shed.
It still rings in my ears - Oh, get out
the butcher's knife.
I've been screaming for years
but it gets me nowhere
just get out the butcher's knife.
That organ's playing my song,
but this song's gone on too long.
What a day to sever such ugly extremities.
'What a lovely day', says the butcher
as he raises his arm.
7.Driftwood： A Fairy Tale
So he would sulk and drink and mope
and cross his arms and hope to die.
ANd then a fairy came one night
to bring this sorry boy to life.
She pulled some strings
and spun him about.
That boy sprang up
and began to shout,
'My arms, my legs, my heart, my face
they're alive!'
And she would cry, 'Liar, liar!
What have I done？
You're no lover, and I'm no fighter.'
(The story goes on)
So he would buy her things and kiss her hair
to show he was for real.
And she would take those gifts and kisses
though just stringing him along.
She knew about those wooden boys-
it's an empty love to fill the void.
'Pinocchio! Oh boy, how your nose has grown!'
So he would cry, 'Liar, liar!
I'll prove it to you!'
But then it grew - and he walked all night long
'til he was stopped by the shore of the ocean.
But still he walked on, amongst the whales
and the waves, and screamed
'Liar, liar!'
And his wooden body floated away.
He just drifed away.
And now I wonder how i was made...
my arms, my legs, my heart, my face,
my name is Driftwood.
8.A Gentleman Caller
Your gentleman caller,
well, he's been calling on another
he loves his forbidden fruit.
And as it dribbles down his chin
he cries, 'Baby, I've been drinking with some friends! Now how
'bout a little kiss...'
Bad boy!
Rub his nose in it!
What a mess
and he's playing dumb
'Doo do doo...'
'I'm not looking for a loverm
all those lovers are liars...
I'd never lie to you
You say you want to get even？
Yeah, you want to get
your bad man good？
Well, are you in the mood？
You bad girl!
Does it feel good being bad？
And getting worse？
'Doo do doo...'
But in the morning
on the sober dawn of Sunday
you're not sure what you have done
Who told you love was fleeting？
Sometimes men can be so misleading
to take what they need from you
Whatever you need to make you feel
like you've been the one behind the wheel
the sunrise is just over that hill
the worst is over
Whatever I said to make you think
that love's the religion of the weak
this morning we love like weaklings
the worst is over.
The worst is over.
9.Harold Weathervein
Harold walks down any street of this town
both crier ＆ witness the sun drops clouds shift
his legs twitch
the clocks chime on cafes, pharmacies, and dime stores, in bar
rooms he stils all alone erupting.
inhisbeaditsliketheweatherback＆forthitsliketheweather
when it rains it pours down
Weatherman, do you feel？
Is it stormy inside of your veins？
10.Bloody Murderer
There's a ghost in my bed
she cries in her sleep
she says I won't let her leave
I lie perfectly still
as she stifles her tears
I don't want to disturb her
'Let go, let go - please let me be
Look at the ghost you've made of me'
Dush dropped her starry gown
I whispered out
'Sweetie, are you here with me？'
the mirror chrashed on the dresser
and she began to scream
'Bloody murderer! Let me rest in peace!'
'When I was yours, you fled the scene,
now you can't wash your hands of me.'
Bloody murder
You can't here the screams
11.Sierra
In the desert, where the cities are made of gold,
there's a girl playing hopscotch with pink ribbon pigtails.
And hermom calls out from an apartment balcony,
'Come on, baby! Your bath is ready! It's almost time for sleep!'
And I wonder who's the father...
And I wonder what they call her - Sierra.
Does her mother smoke, or does she jog every morning？
Does she drink when she thinks about me？
Or doesn't she need to drink... does she have a man who works a
nine to five？
Does he come home to kiss our young Sierra, tuck her in and say
goodnight？
(And an extra kiss for mama...)
I want that kiss, that kid, that apartment.
I'm ready to settle down now, so get that man out of my bed.
I want my daughter back now, I want to kiss her,
tuck her in and say, 'goodnight, my baby girl, Sierra.'
Sierra, Sierra, Sierra, Sierra,
I'll never know who you are, and I don't deserve to.
My little girl, we would've been so... oh, nevermind.
But I'm ready to settle down now - yeah, I'm ready to leave that
wrecking ball behind.
I could be your carpenter, and you could be my twinkling north
star o'er the desert sky.
12.Staying Alive
I've decided tonight I'm staying alive just kicking ＆ screaming
Blood boiling ＆ steaming
There are things far too dark to comprehend
Sleep on it one more night my sad old friend
Doo do Doo do Doo do Doo do
The worst is over.
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