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Take your friends and go home Hey hey you, go away before you eat all our food Oh wait, it’s too late. Future generations will just have to wait for your legacy to die, hats in hands and wondering why all of our houses have burned down and all of the trees are lying on the ground around you. Hey mr. president, your political capital was already spent before you even opened your mouth. Your moral compass is always pointing south. You mother of the human bomb, how did the terrorists ever get along before you? Take your friends and go home. Take your friends and leave us all alone. AllOneWord – choosing not to give it a name, I say that’s the noblest thing. You know you’re just blood and flesh, not lighter, you’re no more fresh. You learn the language of the day. Seems smart but it’s just your way to be worthless king for a day. And sell empty space on eBay. Cripple creek Hotel – she’s gone and now she’s come back and she whispers in his ear. Crying for some kind of help from the only one who hears. But there’s another one she says and he’s the one you’ll learn to fear. He follows her both day and night, he sees it in her eyes. Her blood it spills up on the floor and right away it dries, and then he feels its icy touch and then he knows what it’s like to die. The walls inside this old hotel are starting feel real cold. And he things he sees the faces of the mean who came up here for gold. Standing on one side of him she beckons him to follow. But on the other side of him it’s cold and dark and hollow. She leads him down the hallway to her final resting place. The drafty, dark and quiet place where she’s murdered every day. The hearing man can see her face and hear her ancient song. But how can he help her now when she’s already gone? And how can he help himself when he hears those haunting sounds? And how can he breathe the air again when he’s already drowned? And how can he show his friend all the things that he has found? He went up to that old hotel but he’s never coming down. Bury the hatchet – it’s when they’re louder than you expect them to be. But then they’re all too loud to me. It’s when they stand too close to see. They’re always on either side of me. They’re there when you wake up and there when you go to bed, makes them want to bury the hatchet right there in your little. But then you realize the problem is you. And you see this is not what you wanted to do. And the room it seems too crowded for two. But you’re putting them in there with you. You put them right there on the sofa and right there next to the bed. Makes you want to bury the hatchet right there in their little. Measure 13 – I hope that you don’t see me. I’ll move around a little more. I hope that you don’t hear me, I’ll try my best to slam the door. I hope that you don’t feel me rubbing salt in your open sores. The enemy comes today but he’s got a coat of hazy gray. Now I know you see me because your guts are spilled on the floor. Now I know you hear me, I saw your throbbing eardrum as it tore. Now I know you know me, you’ll sing my name forever more. The enemy comes today… Low road – you take the low road and I’ll take the high road and you’ll be in Scotland before me. I can take the fast road and you can take the slow road but the competition really bores me. Don’t you think we ought to be a little more human? Don’t you think we ought to try a little harder? This evolution thing doesn’t really work for brains. I just think we ought to be a little smarter. And you know that you’re starting to feel short-changed. And you see that everything needs to be rearranged. And you hear that you’re starting to show your age. When are you coming home? I’m trying to tell you we’re so long overdue, so many corners left to turn. Sweeping up the ashes, piling up the lashes of all the bridges that we’ve burned. Too deaf to see it now, too blind and dumb somehow to be the slightest bit concerned. Just fall in line my friend and follow the current trends. There are no lessons to be learned. You see, the hand and the gun have been fused. Transparent sympathies overused. Wooden bully pulpit so abused. When are you gonna go? Suckerville – right when you notice you’re getting in the zone you’re looking through the fog and you see your friends have gone home. And you wonder why you just saw the bartender unplug the phone. A hint of mud in your beer, greasy noises in your ear, nothing’s sounding to clear and it’s time to go home. Isn’t this the place that you’ve been to 100 times before? But now there’s dirt on the wall and some kind of oil all over the floor. And you’re looking everywhere but you can’t seem to locate the door. At least you might make some friends, just found another 10, we’ll all be happier on the end when we’re lying on the floor. Nothing’s too good for a round-mouthed sucker like you. It’s a sorry motherfucker who doesn’t want to pay his dues. Just roll back in the hole and wait for the evening news. Ain’t no one gonna come, feels just like zero sum, lucky when the mind is numb and you still have the booze. White noise – you in your tiny little town, you in your angry little universe. Don’t you think you feel us in your blood? Can’t you hear their voices in your words? Exorcise the demons from your pale, pale skin, then wipe the stains from your white, white bones. You are a frightened little clown, you are an ugly little animal. You only scurry on the ground and fight for garbage at the carnival. Segregate your neighborhood while the real ones sing the blues and drown out their beautiful sounds with your white white noise. And please let us down, and bury us in the ground. Long shot – take the pen in your hand, make a plan, I know you can. With your hand reach dry land, make demands, make a plan. This is a long shot, there’s so much that it’s not. You’ve shown you rather rot, ignore what they taught. How big can you get? Tie it in a net, love the tv set, avoid getting wet. This is a long shot. Kick the can, try to land, kill the band, sit, don’t stand. Can’t you see on your knees can’t see the trees, listen please. This is a long shot.