like karaoke, but different

There’s a world inside your eyeball
I can see
what you see
and Lord, it’s just disgusting

Why do I taste like chicken?
Oh, I like to eat the human
in the pot o f gold
Oh, I like to eat the human
but this one’s covered up in mold
I left him in the bag too long
I should have kept it closed
The r efrigerator would be the p lace where I
…. take off your clothes

Some people say they like women
(there aren’t enough chords in this world that I know)

You t old me that you wanted my baby
I didn’t know you meant for dessert
But your last meal has given you scabies
I know you’re in a world of hurt

She’s my acne spotted love
She fits me like a pimpled glove
When I’m on that freezing bus
I’m covered in your … pus

Who needs pot when we’ve got songs?
We can do this all night long
With Alicia in her fuzzy grays

I met her down in Mexico
It’s a country filled with tomatoes
and cilantro

(No, no no no. Mexico is not inspiring enough.)

(This is the problem with doing this so late. You start o ut with a rhyme in mind, and by the time you get to it, you’ve totally forgotten what it was that you were going to say. )

Oh, baby I fear
that there’s a pickle in your ear
it’s making you do all kinds of evil t hings
when you took the e xam
in the history wing
you had to blow up that freaky little thing
in your pants

(Grunk is totally hosed. He’s not drunk, he’s just tired and singing pickle strap-on songs to the tune of “If y ou’re happy and you know it.” Also, I’m on Mike’s old laptop, which likes to put in random spaces. I took them out at first but now I’ve ceased to care enough to do that. Because I’m tired. Also, I have to be at the Empty Space at 9:30 in the morning. Jesus. )

My baby
she told me she loves vegetables
I thought she was a salad freak
but when she goes to bed at night
she don’t look at me
I’m an enemy
She likes tomatoes in her salad
tomatoes give her more pleasure at night
than the best that I can do
and when I say “Baby, well, I want to be your salad dressing”
but she d on’t give me her blessing
to eat
her
dessert

The couch a te my baby
it’s a mad plan by IKEA
I was tempted by the meatballs
and now I cannot see-her
no more
no more
‘cause the furniture has ended our relationship
funny, I always thought it would be the kitchenware
that would take you on a long long trip away f rom me
and into the cemetery
of housewares
When I put you in the fireplace
you tell me to close the damper
so you could see my FACE
You didn’t want to see my face
oh, baby back ribs
rose hips and wine
and I got tired of
listening to your whining VOICE
in the fireplace with the sofa

(Mike’s getting scary. In a minute he’s going to be singing “What’s he BUILDING in there?” or similar. He’s going through a weird minor chord poetry phase. Very dark.)

this is a song about teching
it goes a little bit like this
FUCK SHIT PISS HELL I DON’T WANT TO THINK ABOUT THIS ANYMORE GODDAMMIT FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK, AD NAUSEUM

(Oh my god. It’s 3:11. That’s a band.)