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When the Hurricane Comes

from Tap Water by Swordplay & Pierre the Motionless

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  • Tap Water 12" LP Limited Edition Color Vinyl
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lyrics

I’ve lost it all often. Put me in the Washington office of a coffin that I belong in then. I’m stuck in my stock options and politics. I’m too talkative, if I may begin. Because these common men, they never get caught caterwauling and off the wall throwing caution to the wind or pretend Molotovs at apostles. All they want’s a bottle of klonopins. I’m swallowing the toxins in. Run out of oxygen running a thousand city blocks in my moccasins. I wander in, up into the center of a city grid hollering olly olly oxen. I speak to the fossils. I dig em up and dust em off, down to the joint where the lone god hobbles. I turn em into novels. Spit em back out from the back of my tobacco painted tonsils every day. I got a gift shop sling shot. I point it at these robot cop drones now flown above. I’m setting up shopping carts in parking lots to settle with the winds when the hurricane comes… I’m living in a prison with invisible friends who dream of freedom because it does not exist. I will not resist. Make the arrest. I’m a victim of a problematic radical thought process. I predicted the cataclysm: a typical vision left on in my mind in hypnotic display. I will not be okay. I will not be okay. I will not be okay. Make the arrest. Because common sense is an inadequate defense tactic non-applicable to the digital model and modern day killers control their missiles on a desk top. I’m looking at the box like “is this thing on?” We’re living in the middle of a prison where the wealth is hither and thither and yon. Broadcast the hologram (a cinematic vision of a pop icon). I sing a love song to the activists who don’t put their money where their mouth is or talk about Vietnam in a Pentagon food court. No, you know better than that (that venom attached to the militant’s split lip). Pacifists with the laughing gas set sail for the Baghdad discotheque (a capitalist free market suicidal cybernetic invention). Fiddle with chemical alignment and speak my mind when I’m in suspension but don’t mention that I’m a mess. I’m a criminal in distress. Put in the kennel, I’m a ketamine-colored enemy combatant with no contest. Make progress like weather machines and atomic bombs. I hope to Gasoline that I find my planet one day. I’m living in a prison with invisible friends who dream of freedom because it does not exist. I will not resist. Make the arrest. I’m a victim of a problematic radical thought process. I predicted the cataclysm: a typical vision left on in my mind in hypnotic display. I will not be okay. I will not be okay. I will not be okay. Make the arrest.

credits

from Tap Water, released June 20, 2013

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schizophrenic lieutenants and a microphone

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