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You gotta be crazy, you gotta have a real need.
You gotta sleep on your toes, and when you're on the street,
You gotta be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed.
And then moving in silently, downwind and out of sight,
You gotta strike when the moment is right without thinking.

And after awhile, you can work on points for style.
Like the club tie, and the firm handshake,
a certain look in the eye, and an easy smile.
You have to be trusted, by the people that you lie to,
so that when they turn their backs on you,
You'll get the chance to put the knife in.

You gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder.
You know it's going to get harder, and harder and harder as you get older.
And in the end you'll pack up, and fly down south,
hide your head in the sand.
Just another sad old man,
all alone, and dying of cancer.

And when you lose control, you'll reap the harvest you have sown.
And as the fear grows, the bad blood slows and turns to stone.
And it's too late, to lose the weight, you used to need to throw around.
So have a good drown, as you go down, all alone.
Dragged down by the stone.

I gotta admit that I'm a little bit confused.
Sometimes it seems to me as if I'm just being used.
Gotta stay awake, gotta try and shake off this creeping malaise.
If I don't stand my own ground, how can I find my way out of this maze?

Deaf, dumb and blind, you just keep on pretending,
that everyone's expendable, and no one has a real friend.
And it seems to you, the thing to do, would be to isolate the winner,
And everything's done, under the Sun,
and you believe at heart, everyone's a killer.

Who was born in a house full of pain. 
Who was trained not to spit in the fan.
Who was told what to do by the Man.
Who was broken by trained personnel.
Who was fitted with collar and chain.
Who was given a pat on the back.
Who was breaking away from the Pack.
Who was only a stranger at home.
Who was ground down in the end.
Who was found dead on the phone.
Who was dragged down by the Stone.


Harmlessly passing your time in the grassland away;
Only dimly aware of a certain unease in the air.
You better watch out;
There may be Dogs about.
I have looked over jordan and I have seen;
Things are not what they seem.

What do you get for pretending the danger's not real;
Meek and obedient you follow the leader down well-trodden corridors into the Valley of Steel.
What a surprise!
A look of terminal shock in your eyes.
Now things are really what they seem;
No! This is not a bad dream. 

The Lord is my shepard;
He maketh me down to lie.
Through pastures green He leadeth me; The silent waters by.
With bright knives he releaseth my soul.
He maketh me to hang on hooks in high places.
He converteth me to Lamb cutlets.
For Lo, He hath Great power and Great hunger.
When cometh the day we lowly ones,
Through quiet reflection and great dedication;
Master the art of Karate.
Lo, we shall rise up.
And then we'll make the buggers eyes water.

Bleating and babbling we fell on his neck with a scream.
Wave upon wave of demented avengers march cheerfully out of obscurity into the dream.

Have you heard the news?
The Dogs are dead!
You'd better stay home, and do as you're told. 
Get out of the road, if you want to grow old.


Big Man, Pig Man, Ha Ha - Charade You are.
You Well Heeled Big Wheel, Ha Ha Charade You are.
And when your hand is on your Heart,
You're nearly a good laugh,
Almost a Joker,
With your head down in the Pig Bin,
Saying "Keep on Digging."
Pig Stain on your fat chin,
What do you hope to find,
When your down in the Pig Mine.
You're nearly a laugh.
You're nearly a laugh, but you're really a cry. 

Bus-stop rat bag,
Ha Ha, Charade you are.
You radiate cold shafts of broken glass.
You're nearly a good laugh,
Almost worth a quick grin.
You like the feel of steel.
You're hot stuff with a hat-pin.
And good fun with a hand gun.
You're nearly a laugh.
You're nearly a laugh, but you're really a cry.

Hey You Whitehouse,
Ha Ha Charade you are.
You house proud town mouse,
Ha Ha Charade you are.
You're trying to keep our feelings off the street.
You're nearly a real treat,
All tight lips and cold feet.
And do you feel abused?


You gotta stem the evil tide,
And keep it all on the inside.
****** you're nearly a treat, 
****** you're nearly a treat
But you're really a cry.

Writer's Block: Evolutionary Contributions

In the spirit of the Darwin Awards, what gets your nomination for the stupidest act committed by a human this year?


Allowing an 8 year old to fire an Uzi is about the stupidest damn thing I've heard of this year, or any other, for that matter.

It's MORONS like the ones running this gun show that make it possible for the anti-2nd ammendment crowd to attack everyone else's freedom.

This is extremely disturbing.

She wouldn't really kill me, would she?
...would she?  

Writer's Block: If Wishes Were Horses

From shooting stars to stray eyelashes, there are a lot of ways to make a wish. What's your preferred method for asking favors from the universe?

Wishes ARE Horses.

I know! ...What the world needs now is...


"Any fool...

...with fast hands can take the tiger by the balls. Did you know that?
Hey. Wipe that asshole grin off your face and pay attention. I'm giving you instruction. Are you paying attention? Good.
Now hear this and never forget it:
Any fool with fast hands can take the tiger by the balls, but it takes a hero to keep on squeezing.
And I'll tell you something else, while I'm at it; only two kinds of people walk away. Heroes and quitters.
And I am no quitter."

-Alexis Machine

-The Dark Half
Stephen King 

I Have Become Death!

The Destroyer of Worlds.

-The Bhagavad Gita