When I met you, we ignited and I was firing on all cylinders. Counting the moments til my panic reared its ugly head. Now let me introduce you to this guy I know; you may have already met My mouthy little mess who won’t get off my back, who won’t let me ride solo. Cause I know, I know you wanna buckle up, start this journey and have fun; I can hear you gunning that engine, but my parasitic twin’s all packed, and he’s already called shotgun. I can’t recall a time he wasn’t talking back to nearly every word that I say. His voice is small and cracked, but not much different from mine. Yes, we have mishaps all the time when I’m just the Christian to his Cyrano. It can be difficult not to heed his bad advice. Cause I know, I know you wanna stay the course on a voyage that’s already begun. You know I think you’re great, but this parasitic jerk’s first mate And he’s already called shotgun. Yes, I tried to cut him off, but he always sticks around. And I try to shut him up, but that only makes him loud. And I try to bottle up, but it only comes back out. And you didn’t sign up for this, so maybe it’d be better if we just slowed this down. I know you wanna sweep me off on a big white horse at a full run. You can try to gallop in, but my parasitic twin’s dead weight, and he’s already called shotgun. He’s already called shotgun , shotgun, shotgun. I wouldn’t dream of repeating his soft and ugly lies. I know he’s wrong about me; how could he be right? But when he mouths off and just speaks his ugly mind, it really makes me paralyzed. Turn up the radio to drown him out and we’ll just drive. Cause I know, I know you want to blast right off on a rocket Straight to the long run. You can try to plot a course, but my Number One’s on the bridge and he’s already called shotgun.

it’s been a bleak and lonely winter And I just don’t know what’s gotten into me. It feels like everything is canted, Just at an angle that I can’t see. The whispering is growing grating And I don’t KNOW IF I KNOW what the voices are saying, BUT I know it can’t be good. It can’t be good, And everyone says I’m not myself. But how can that be? Who’s in here with me? He talks a big game In words that leave no room for doubt; He’s got a big name Dredging up dread in my mouth. He knows all the moves, and what to do, all that I’m talking about. So how do I go about casting him out? The caddy pulls up in slow motion, Blinding and boasting an otherworldly gleam. His caring face comes out so practiced, mouth sewn tight with a crooked seam. His golden glow’s already grating And I want to tell him, but I’m too weak When every word comes out a little backwards And in a language that I can’t speak. And everyone says he’s heaven sent, But how can that be? Just who is he? He talks a big game In words that leave no room for doubt. He’s got a big name Highlighted in red in his pouch; He knows all the moves, but that’s not what I’m talking about. What I wanna know about’s how will he go about casting you out? Paint a T on my forehead, a tip and a sip of this Wizard oil will make you smile from the inside out, Assail you, demons, are you wrapped in hysteria; HAS that mousy vessel failed you? Temptation by oppression? If you’re addled and heckled and riddled with worms? Or sedition, sedation, ambition, elation? I’ll slay you and deliver you from evil within. A somewhat impotent encounter; guess his tools could use a little sanding? Didn’t have much faith to founder; The creature and me have an understanding, And he says change escapes me. I cling tightly To the form that shapes me. We talk a big game In words that leave no room for doubt. We’ve got a big name Hyphenated for clout. He knows all the moves, and what to do, and all that I’m talking about. So why would I go about casting him out?

shh; be still! Did you hear that tiny sigh - Scraping the sinew, Escaping its vessel through the air Right to you? Did you get a chill just now? When you realized these beady eyes were trained on you; What did you do? Oops, you went and made a monster! Moldering, brackish thoughts unspoken, Swallowed all the gall, but the words made you choke, then You were making me. You were making me. Tendons strung from bone to bone. You were tender & stung & might not have known That you were making me. You were making me. Your fear got restless and you gave it legs. Now a new life rises from that pile of dregs. You made me from your poison doubts; Now I’m out! And I’m gonna walk about. Keep still! You’ll get used to these binds. Why all the struggle? You were the one who made me so strong. Don’t you think it’s kind of strange? Now you realize that your thoughts can become things and grow fangs, and Yes, that’s how you make a monster. A hulking Form from an ugly place. Prodded and scorned into a wizened face; You were making me. You were making me. Refusing to say the truth would kinda fight you . Now you should be afraid: What you made is gonna bite you, You were making me. You were making me. You made this heart the shadow of your own. Resentful hands shaped every hateful bone. You made me, and I have no doubt: Now that I’m out... Well, I’m gonna walk about. --------------- “Stroll On” ------------- I want to travel where the sunset meets the land, Make the buzzards fly with thunder from my hand. I’ll give a friendly wink, with kindness smile wide, But when you look too long, you’ll see there’s none inside. And I’ll stroll on. I’ll turn you to a ghost town, then I’m gone. I’ll spend my days accounting, though no man can count so high, With more grudges than there are stars in the sky. But I’ll mold them lovingly, toss them, watch them all take wing, and I’ll revel in the pestilence they bring. Still, there will come a day when this old husk will sweep the floor, WHEN The pocket watch inside me stops and I can’t walk no more... Then I’ll summon up the memory of when you did me wrong, And that little piece of hurt will spur me on. And I’ll stroll on. I’ll turn you to a ghost town, then I’m gone.

You can’t fix me; I’m a broken one. The hardiest weed, I’m a tangled and choking one. I found you in pain; you hobbled along. Our stitches still raw, we made a team, Stood no chance alone. Our bandages stained, gRAND experiments gone wrong; I see your heart exposed; I show restraint, Try not to pick your bones. these ratty plumes stay plucked Cause I know what hue they are And these blunted wings stay tucked Cause I know they won’t take me far, oh - I can’t fix you; you’re a broken one. The hardest truth is the painful, unspoken one. The journey’s been long And there’s been no map to guide us BUT Still, we scout ahead, fleeing the fray, Searching for brush to hide us. We pause now and then, Try to bind up the wounds you’ve worried and Pry your beak from your back; You stay convinced you’ve coaxed the clots to hurry. these ratty plumes stay plucked, Because you know what hue they are, And these stunted wings stay tucked cause you know I believe they won’t take us far, no. Othese ratty plumes stay plucked; They grow in patches over these scars, And these sunken eyes stay shut So they can’t see how doomed we are, oh - Give up your dreams; you’re a broken one. Can’t shake their nets, outmaneuvered and way outgunned. We scavenge for scraps, Loping with no hope or purpose and carve meandering paths, holding out hope The world might not disturb us. I'll Continue to try Not to pelt you with the pebbles I’ve gathered, AND Though our lumbering forms may never fly, We choose to flock together. And these ratty plumes stay plucked Cause we know how few there are , And these blunted wings stay tucked; I’ll make do without wings on this avatar.

They say she came out screaming, tiny fists all balled up tight. Her mother swore she’d not seen a child before so ready for a fight, But she was wan and she was sickly, sorry, blighted to behold. Refused the breast, cried til her chest ached, simply could not be consoled And when she wasn’t busy crying, she would stare wide-eyed and mute, While her mind and heart grew bigger than her small frame could follow suit. HER Dad got itchy feet; this kid was such a chore to grow , BUT Before he hit the road, he looked at her and said “Girl, before I go: “Know you’ve gotta get big. You’ve gotta get SO BIG. You’ve gotta get SO BIG, SO TALL. Cause if you take the time to get real big as you go through life, you won’t be Afraid of anything at all.” From poorly babe to homely child to stubborn, sullen lass, She grew up picking fights and telling lies as bold as brass. She was scrappy; she was mean; she took the boys all by surprise Cause you’d not say she was a looker til you looked deep in her eyes. Soon, her ragged mother died although she’d hemmed and hawed. Said “I’ve reached the end of my road. go on and find your pa. --- “I’M NOT SURE where you’ll find him, but my first guess would be a bar. And those spindly legs won’t get you very far. You’re gonna have to get big. You gotta get SO BIG - Project yourself like shadows on the wall. And if you take the time and do the things that I describe, you won’t be Afraid of anything at all.” She had some ground to cover and some tracks to make alone, And every place she showed his picture they’d say, “You just missed him, child, he’s gone.” By horse and rail she tailed him, bitterness fueling her Stride, Anger making muscles pump even as rejection stung her pride. She swore he’d see the girl who’d worn a path through miles tread And the shock would leave him speechless and slack-jawed. But the trail went cold in Abilene in a shadowed, stony place: “Sacred to the memory” carved on his marble face. And it was time to get big. You gotta get SO BIG: Expand yourself like Rome before the fall. And if you take the time AND do the things that I describe, you won’t be Afraid of anything at all. She wasn’t going to quit now; all she could think to do Was sew a zeppelin out of tarps and hire herself a crew. A dozen mystics chanted over plutonium and tin, And they flew straight up to Heaven’s gates, hollered up “Hey, let us in!” St. Peter sighed and rolled his eyes, glared at them one by one: “Can’t let just anybody pass. This place would soon be overrun. And I wouldn’t let you meatsacks in even if that wereN’T the case. Besides, your dad’s not here. He’s in the Other Place.” And it was time to get big. You’ve gotta get SO BIG. Move heaven and the earth with every footfall. CAUSE if you take the time AND do the things that I describe, you won’t be Afraid of anything at all. Now cussing all the way, she dragged a boat up to the shore Of the muddy river Styx, where she GREW scared then mad once more. The gnarled ferry man croaked a protest from his cage - But he let her pass, cause he saw the gas that lit up all her rage. And on the other side, Cerberus tried to delay. But she kicked, and kicked, and kicked again, THEN continued on her way.Then Satan loomed before her, straddling stones on mighty hocks, But she JUST shrugged and walked beneath him then found the gates unlocked. It took a while to find her pa, though she asked for him by name, Cause everyone was pushing boulders and everyone kinda looked the same. BUT She finally locked eyes with the man whose eyes looked just like hers, Sprinted up, jabbed a finger at the poor, bedraggled cur. She said “Why’d you leave? Why’d you go? Why’d you bail when things got tough? I could have stopped you if I’d tried, but I just wasn’t big enough.” His mouth twitched at the corner aT the scowl that split up her face. HE Said, “The Very Fact you stand before me here makes you bigger than this place. And what is that if not big?” And it was true; she WAS MASSIVE! Bigger than Hell’s corridors and halls . Cause if you focus right and keep your eyes fixed on the fight you won’t be Afraid of anything at all... Yes, if you’ve got a fire, you can walk blindly through the mire. You won’t be afraid of anything at all.

A velvety hush under midnight skies, Til the chisel cracks and the crowbar pries. Wild, winged witnesses scatter to the wind and disappear in the night. Approaching the crypt with a sylph-like speed, I’m a rebel, a thief, a fast-dying breed. I’m Looking for baubles beneath these bones, but don’t you dare call it greed. Cause It’s hard to be a ghoul these days; Drastic times call for dust pick measures. And it’s hard when you’ve got bills to pay In a world of goblins hoarding treasures. I’m gonna go out; my pile of gold is going to grow bigger. Without a doubt, dear: I enjoy being a gold digger! I wasn’t born suckling a silver spoon, So I found my own metal /mettle by the light of the moon And I never learned how a fortune was made until I picked up the spade. Cause it’s hard to be a ghoul these days In a world of monsters after what’s yours. It’s hard to keep the wolves at bay, but baby When the world gets hard, then I’ll dig harder. AND All that I’ve got, I’ll keep it guarded on a hair trigger: All in a day’s work for a hot-footed gold digger! Here lie the earthly remains Of a wealthy one, so dearly departed. How can I feel any pangs of remorse When his things were so neatly discarded? I’ll keep hid til I strike lid and I’ll never turn back Cause the paydirt’s too good and I look too good in black- and as long as there’s breath in this body I say I will keep slinging the clay. Cause it’s hard to be a ghoul these days In a world that’s cold and folks unwilling. Though it’s hard to find a means to pay With a nest egg forged from golden fillings, I’m gonna go out; my pile of gold is going to grow bigger. Without a doubt, dear. I enjoy being a gold digger.

Man, don’t try to spin it: We saw what you put in it. Shame, shame, shame! Hot and rotten shame! And what a rancid stain upon your name! IT’S One part stock and one part seed. A pinch of pride, a dash of greed. Stow it in a bag of meat. Speak aloud your hopes and dreams, Wiggle fingers magically, Blood for forty nights to feed. Oh, I’m over the moon! Oh, I’m full as a tick on all the ichor! Oh, I know the names of all kings coming And all I can think to do is ask for more, more more! for -- I’m a little tortured feller, But I don’t need to be a fortune teller. I KNEW it all along: I saw what you put in it, and everything you put into it made it wrong. I took one part stock and one part seed, But look who bites the hand that feeds, Dares to judge me for my deeds! Blood for forty weeks to feed, Strength of oxen by the team, Ripped the body at the seam! Oh, I know this old tune. Oh, you’re sick on the succor of the doldrums. Oh, little one you’re awful funny. You’re the puddin’ and the proof and I’ll eat more, more more! For you’re a little tortured feller, But I don’t need to be a fortune teller to tell you that you’re wrong. You saw what I put in it And everything I put into it made you strong! Oh, oh daddy… The writing is on the wall; you can read the engraving. AND Oh, does it fill you with woe, Lamenting the loss of a well-behaved little man behaving? I’m one part cock and one part steed, Marvelously pedigreed, But that’s not why I strut and preen! Existence is a bitter steep, Happy times, just bittersweet, Too short to count, then too long to sleep. Oh, I’m on top of the world! Oh, my vision is thick with all the eyesores! Oh, I see the shape of all things coming And all I can think to do is say “No more, more more!” for We’re all just little tortured fellers, Making peace with what befell us, Listening to the bells toll With the gall to sing along! “Man, don’t try to spin it: We saw what you put in it. And everything you put into it made us---” WRONG, WRONG, WRONG

They’re gonna build a statue of me; It’s gonna be so lovely. The features will be rendered on the Earth to touch the sky. It’s gonna look just like me; I will not take it lightly. Be still for the sculptor and get all my good sides. They’re gonna build a statue of me; it’s gonna be so lovely. All the lines and freckles etched according to a guide. it’s gonna look just like me; I will not take it lightly. every facet of my being greatly magnified. AND ALL The things within my makeup: All my failures, sins, and shakeups Will be placed in a compartment hidden in the underside. And then I’ll stand in earnest As my golden cap is burnished by the blistering sun, from which I cannot hide. They’ll build me a companion: Oxen, mule or stallion. Chiseled to be stalwart in the concrete by my side. He’ll match my wry expression leaving everybody guessin’ About what it all could mean and if the symbolism’s right. Still, you have to accept that We might get tired of being pecked at, And if that comes to pass, we have a plan to come to life: We can’t hide in the shadows, So when I’m feeling rattled , I will hitch him with a saddle and I’ll ride! Stand statuesque in the weathering wind: Lightning rod, legend fodder. Erosion brings its indignities, But being worn Will only make me look Hotter.