I’m still holding your Judas Disguise And my will is still weakened by those Hollywood thighs And I feel deprived Because it’s still the old powerful god that lies Below below And all their Christian souls I don’t even know Still waiting for A renewal in my world Hoping that you’d return cause these Christian girls burn And they burn and they burn all my skill Now my will is as weak as a five-dollar bill And I’m sold I’m sold And all their Christian souls I don’t even know I don’t even know Ah, ah I am willing to compromise If I could taste your humble lies I’d fall short again of a happy life In this hell filled with husbands and brides I am willing to compromise If I could taste your humble lies Your body is trained for the things I lack The valley of hope is the arch in your back

If I crashed into your market place with my solitary slur All the meaning I could not pronounce you would have to infer Now I’m leaving you forever And I’ll make sure not to fly And if I do it wont be over your sky There’s a lifetime I would wait for you if I thought it would be a cure But as I look inside my crystal ball I’m never quite that sure There is no certainty in these games I play There’s no hope that I can keep There are only last summers dreams and they just put me to sleep Hope and you And some foolish school of thought I brought myself into You and the wicked man who weighs down on my mind So this is what you’ve done with your time And every time that I would kill for you I have to take them back Cause with you tied to my heart like that I could have a heart attack You can blame me for this weakness And can blame you for my disease ‘Cause you left the door open way too long and now I’m suffering from the breeze So say goodbye by to the ties Where all my passion lies Say good-bye to the ghosts you call men I call ghosts And you can tell them that I was kind So this is what you’ve done with your time So this is what you’ve done with your time So this is what you’ve done with your time

I get so sidetracked So many things to do and be, be Step back And look at all the problems in me Inside of me I know what I want and I know what I need But what I want is killing me Have you ever seen the wind blow so hard? I knew the guard he opened the gates for me Only to see the problems inside of me So over whelming yes, so overwhelming yes But I wont consume your quantities Cause what I want is killing me I know what I want and I know what I need But what I want is killing me And you know it’s killing me Re, reality Re, re, reality And she just don’t want me Have you ever seen a man work so hard at doing nothing? Well, you can say that man might be me It just might be me Have you ever see the wind blow so hard? I knew the guard; he opened the gates for free Didn’t cost me nothing, didn’t cost me nothing No nothing But nothing is free And I won’t consume your quantities Cause what I want is killing me I know what I want and I know what I need But what I want is killing me, killing me, Killing me

I hope I didn’t punish you in the name of some justice Those whip and chain instructions should be written for me I told you of my limits, the lines you kept crossing But you tried not to care much for those any way And I’ve been falling back on old ways just to make it through my day And the self I once esteemed is weaker then these dreams These fantasies and memories of things you can’t share I told you of my limits, the limits I kept secret They make me look so poor when I need you so badly I never did see you on my last visit. I dropped off the summons; the laws we had broken I couldn’t take what’s tragic. Tragedy is fire. I said I’ll take you in parts, well part of me is a liar And the strings and the ties I placed in the summons You saw right through those whip and chain lies The string made of leather, the metal in my motives Now you’ve seen what I can be in the worst kind of way And now that you’ve seen the worst that I can become Do you abhor the devil I deal with? He doesn’t hate you. He speaks quite well of you; He confessed his emptiness; I think he still wants you. And there are parts of you he’d love to take with him to his grave Does that turn you off? And there are parts of you he’d love to come to terms with for years to come. Does that turn you on? Does that turn you on his working in vain, all of his working in pain in his armor of pain? In which he is rotting, you see, he can’t be subtle any more. I never spoke of innocence. I never laughed at your pain. I knew all along what you needed to do. You took care of business. You marched past my limits. Now I love your decisions in a militant way. I spoke to your father, he never satisfied you. He didn’t satisfy me, I saw right through him. I couldn’t take what’s tragic. Tragedy is fire I said I take you in parts, Well part of me is a liar And there are parts of you I’d love to take with me to my grave Does that turn you off? And there are parts of you I’d love to come to terms with for years to come Tell me, "Does that turn you on?" Does that turn you on, my working in vain, all my working in pain, in my armor of pain For which I am rotting in, see I can’t be subtle any more. Can I turn you on with this working in vain with my working in pain in my armor of pain? For which I am rotting in, see I can’t be subtle any more.

Mrs. Stogal, I think your tea is ready. It has been boiling for quite a while now, and the women across the street, well they look pretty good to me. Oh they look pretty good to me. I think I’ll wipe my feet on their mat to see how far I can take that. Last nights scene was a wonderful thing. She wore patches and tears of what she always wears. "This is where my pain resides", I said. She said, "this is were my pain resides". And it starts with a man whose fashion and his plans have grown apart for me for a while and I feel I’m growing out of style. Oh, Mrs. Stogal, you better take what you can. You know he’s only a man. He’s not the currency of your labor and demand. When I was a boy and she was a queen she lived in dreams that I could only dream of. She had everything that royalty could bring. When I was a man, she was the same without the king and castle that came with the rights of his love, plea-bargained to small talk without shelter. Mrs. Stogal, if you don’t mind, I’ll tell you the time with a look, and with some words you haven’t heard, I can finish the saddest chapter in our small book. Chapter 5 would have stayed alive for a year or two like something new, like every other scene, but that’s our favorite thing now ain't that Mrs. Stogal. I know that you’ve got the time and you’ve got your plans, and I have my tired hands to cut away these needs and fears for another year. Miss Stogal, you know I have to go now. Your meat is on the market, and I feel like such a butcher, and I’m hungrier then these rivals and these rivals they are not my friends.

If I knew where to go And if I knew how to get there I met your lover on Friday night He was wearing gold and silver "So this is the lucky man", I thought "Well what does that make me?" And what would that make you my love Probably more then you would care to be And if we can’t see eye to eye I can always kneel on this floor of mine And pray to the god you claimed that never came And watch you walk right out of this life of mine I broke up a fight on Saturday Those memories vs. me on South Street Thoughts of the past came to kick my ass And left me bleeding on the concrete You can see these scars and these wounds up close These wholes in my body on South Street It’s your microscope and all the things you couldn’t cope with That are my enemies at least they seem to be And if you never come alive You can always kneel on this floor of mine And pray for the man you claim ran away And I can play that role I can read his lines And if your waters weren’t made for my tread Then what’s possible could never give hell Is it the loss or the longing to which I am belonging that has kept you alive and well? "This is not the time nor the place", you said, "for picking up pieces like me." But I forgot that I was a junk man with holes in my hands When I held those pieces close to me And if you never change your mind I can always work on these lines of mine And I’ll use them on the local girls And they can keep me shallow they can help you die And if I never turn out fine Well I can always kneel on this floor of mine And pray to the god you claim that never came and He can keep me shallow he can help you die He can keep me shallow he can help you die He can keep me shallow he can help you die

There ‘s nothing to do in my town You can sit around and get drunk all the time Lazy or hard working I’m a jerk in disguise Telling my lies, living my lies beneath my disguise There’s nothing to do in my town You can sit around and smoke all night And I know a kid where smoking is his only life Every time he lights up he says, "this is my life". And all of my friends need women to make them feel good I myself can use anything you got so give it here to me I make them laugh I make them cry I don’t know why And I’m trying to quit but it’s the same old shit You here all the time And I know a kid where crying is his only life Every time he crys he says, "this is my life". And all of m friends need something to make them feel good I myself could use a woman right now, yeh, I myself could use a woman right now My friend told me about the girl he had last night And I’m thinking he shouldn’t say that about her, that aint right. But he’s trying to quit and it’s the same old shit you hear all the time And I know a girl where feeling guilty is her life You know when she sins, she confesses and this is her life And then she goes to the booth and says, "Hey father, this is my life, You know I’m trying to quit but it’s the same old shit you here all the time." And all of my friends need something, yeh And all I need is anything.

Cannot find the company to keep this heart alive Its standards and requirements are of the strictest kind and the local girls resistance Does not help me with my efforts In fact I think they’re here to torture me tonight And it’s a fine night for torture I’ll supply the weapons Like these old high school tools that tell me that I need her And these phone book treatments that tell me not to call her anymore And all of my friends are rock star scholars and they all seem to agree That there is no love or comfort in the presence of plain company And though I question their intentions and their claims to be scholarly Their half-truths ring like fool truths to me And if I seem dissatisfied with Mrs. Read-Between-The-Lines She’s number 45 or so Numbers are labels they’re given by angels And that’s not a blessing No, that’s not a blessing in disguise And these old high school tools that tell me that I need her And these foot ball buddies that tell me to go get her And the oldest of men in me, he speaks to angelic beings He asks her, "Is it worth the effort?" And the time I’ll spend alone With a woman I cannot see Can be chalked up to the youngest or the oldest of men in me And though I despise my coming to and or falling on these notions The knife that stabs stings of her perfection Cause she was close enough to perfection You can check the records She was not 17 She was not hanging off grocery store machines Clients they will come and go Of their own volition And these old high school tools that tell me that I need her And these phone book treatments that tell me not to call And the consummate practitioner tells me that I miss her And I should

I was born with the Jesus Christ yelling in my ear The holy things in my ear ring to help a good man steer Years when I’d steer severe with all my fathers’ sins covering my ears Covering my ears Is this what Jesus fears? And with your cross glossed gold or silver Choose your simple means And with the weight complexity removed from your shoulders it seems to me That if I point to your grays you’ll know what hardship means Covering your eyes Is this were Jesus lies? And his he surprised by all his numbers painting without colors and all of the emblem-wearing victims holding to their villains? Enemies surprised by the painting style severe to which you do adhere Just the way your father steered when he was of your years you played him to a T But now every hair turned gray is asking, "who is it you should be?" Now that you have your shoulds, tell me Who is it you should be?

The grains that you offer me are few and far between they’re numbers on the walls that I’ve stopped counting and even though I’ve turned my head I know it’s still your evening and all of my employees know you’re leaving The grains that you gave to me, they couldn’t feed a family like my Workers have revolted and retreated And it’s a protest to hopelessness; it’s a typical response I guess I find myself in their picket line quite often And while the mystery remains it only teases with its pain Concerning the wealth of my position Maybe you’re the mystic with the flower in you hand And your confusion is like parables like riddles when I Proceed to comprehend in vein When Time was the doctor, God the nurse and I the patient, they were Slow and incapable in caring for there patients, because in their time of need They would just watch them So I said, "I think they need a new occupation". And all the memories that I’ve saved and all the distinctions that I’ve made To assure me of the wealth of my position And the ever-present mystic with the flower in her hand Downplays all my fondest of memories Dulls oh the sharpest of distinctions For they don’t keep me wealthy They don’t keep me feeling wealthy They don’t keep me feeling whole And the time that you gave away like gifts on Christmas holiday they Make you out to be just like Saint Nick But you were never that jolly and pardon the honesty I’d like to trade them in for something else

You know I cannot break Promises I make to myself To suffer like an animal without control Is no longer a virtue that I hold to be true Not for me not for you No more, no more Yes I must confess On a scale of worst to best I think that we Never really took that test to see Why worst is for the rest and not for you and I Not for me No more, no more No more, no more not for me, no more And I will not speak of lies Or write another broken hearted line Because I never lost something I could not find And if something is broken well at least I know that something is mine and if I haven’t found it yet then give me time just give me some that’s all I need is some more

When I’m a prophet, I might let you in to the circle I’ve started of women and men. But you’ll have to wait on line. These gifts that I give are not mine. And after I’ve prophesized you’ll want to sleep next to me with those cold and wooden thighs you polished for the orgy But you’ll have to wait on line like the rest of them I cannot service all at one time. When inspiration is not divine, you’ll become an addict of a certain kind. And when your inspiration just doesn’t fall through, I might not be there to save you. And after the sun falls the orgy begins and with my five and dime scissors I’ll cut the ribbon, a commencement for every graduating disciple entering my discipline. With my five and dime scissors, my cape and my crown and the cane that I’ll use to point to the crowd I will point you out, but merely as a reference a punch line to pain I once thought was mine My inspiration was not divine and I became an addict of a certain kind And when my inspiration just didn’t fall through, tell me, where the hell were you? And you’ll sigh in the fashion of your Mary Magdalene, while you search for the Jesus you know you can’t win You know you can’t win, with me in my purity and you in your sin Yes with me in my purity and you in your sin you will search for the Jesus you know you can’t win But you’ll have to wait on line. Just consider me the holiest of deli counters You’ll have to take a number yes one after another you’ll have to wait on line. When I’m a prophet I might let you into the circle I’ve started of women and men

There’s no love for the man With the cock in his hand as he Baths in the light of a girl Such a simple world There’s no love in the hearts Of her beautiful parts as they Find and accord with my tastes Such a painful place