Marble Orchard


A headstone can prove mighty hard to afford
Last minute shopping in the marble orchard
Drinking neath the eyes of a statue of the lord
I bequeth unto him this broken bottle's shard

Behind our backs the sun began to set
As we sat high above the cemetary gate
Not much for conversation? I asked my uncle chet
His eyes shown only blankness in his newly expired state

The millionaire undertaker drove home to fuck his wife
He left his shed unlocked and he failed to douse its light
So I prepared my uncle chet for eternal afterlife
With a stolen shovel in my hands you know I dug all night

Yes in the twilight hours I tossed that bastard in the hole
He weighed a ton and never moved an inch while on his own
The undertaker saw not one penny, not to mention the shovels I stole
I had my uncle six feet under by the time a new sun shone

Money Scares Me

Money scares me
And it sleeps with those I know
Yet Money carries me
Even though it frightens me so

Like a parent who's not
Afraid to beat me down
Money's the prison
That holds me to the ground

Like a slavemaster
Issuing a double scoop of rations
Money makes its case
Rewarding random subservient actions

Yes Money scares me
And yet without it I am lost
Because where the money's keeping me
Everything has a cost.





We're being outright
Lied to in the news
And most people haven't
Even noticed any clues

But they boldly set out
Pushing unsourced opinions
They tell you about
Remarks with no known origins

They run through a bunch of headlines
And barely touch on fact sorting
It's hard to read between the lines
When reporters do no real reporting

And after they're done releasing hot air
We people at home never know nothin' new
Yet the report has a way of making us care
Though we've got no reason to
We seem to think that we do

With no new information in my mind's dusty lair
I wonder how I got those new feelings in there.



Watching the Slicer

I watch the slicer
And I watch its every move
And I watch the butcher
Working into a groove

And I wonder
How his life could change
Through just one little blunder
Of leaving fingers estranged

Would it be worth it then;
His ten dollars an hour?
Could he be forgiven;
For weilding such power?

Then he'd watch the slicer
And he'd watch it's every move
And he'd look at his hand
Limbless and smooth














Copyright � 2005