Dropkick Murphys - "The Season's Upon Us" (Video)

Citizen Under Suicide Watch

Nothing I do is good enough for you

I hate myself

Wipe the table clean with tears and tissue

All I am is deficit to you

My worthlessness

Another mouth to feed

We are each over-expectant

Hoping for the incredible

Imagining more than what we’re served

Denying reality

Each destroyers

Of our own dreams

The moral compass

Keeps teetering towards disaster

Not-so-distant past lingers

I want to go back to my own people

But my own people don’t exist anymore

Except in cartoon version

Everything is collapsing fast

Nothing is gradual

When did the present

Overstay its welcome?

I am desolate dictator

Of empty room

What do you do with your scabs?

Not the little flakey ones

I mean the big chunky crusty ones?

I throw them in pan and sauté them

With olive oil, onion salt, a little pablano pepper

Serve them to myself and ghost dog

I'm Always A little Afraid At The Beginning

Bottom line, you get me off

Fall short of that,

You are useless,

Useless.

“Men are so needy,” she said

I swirl spoon in watery broth

Sit speechless

Silently wonder what she meant

The deal is,

I don’t understand the deal

When did sex become

So terribly disconnected from love?

Friends first, then sex

What is wrong with me?

Ok, sex first, then friends?

I don’t understand the deal.

Please be my friend

She Seduced Me, Then Punished Me For Being Seduced

There are things I don’t want to talk about
Her destructiveness, my destructiveness
The nature of destruction
To surrender, allow, withstand
Her beautiful soft eyes looking off
The force of her scorn
There are things I never imagined

Endless Nights, Endless Days, Or, A Flying Fuck

Secretly believing someone is watching

And will benevolently arrive, relieve the pain

When planets collide, lots of stuff goes awry

Every breath you take implicates you deeper

The constant cry of babies being born

Expect monsters worse than you can conceive

There is a dark alley deep in hell

Where strangers go

She was swallowing a horse who

Stomped its hooves

Kicked her in stomach pregnant with you

As soon as you enter

Someone points a finger

Hollers, “Horse child, whore’s child!”

Hen-pecked men and angry haughty women

Shame is the only love i know

A murdering mob descends upon

Somebody lynching Christmas tree ornaments

Why isn’t there God?

It’s disturbing to think

We’re all acting out of chump sensibilities

Explain to me again about sociology and greater good

How long can a smell last?

A week? A month? Thousands of years?

What if higher powers exist

Unbeknownst to themselves?

Death fashionably attired without face

The importance in showing teeth

“Caw, caw!” old crow calls, anticipating winter’s squalls

I fire up cigarette, blow smoke in the faces

Of those who said no to my dreams

I’m glad i didn’t know then what i know now

The cost of joy

Tomorrow is magnificent new beginning

If only everything hadn’t happened

Unspeakable

My life is a fraud

Posing greatness, I go home to empty bed

I remember a girl

It was heavenly lying next to her

Talking, walking, being with her

Countless fissures fitted, amazing minutiae

She was the one, paradise once

Dilapidation is order of the day

Death dwells among the living

Seeped deep in floorboards, forcing hands

Death is more real than God

Death is God

Why is this night different from all other nights?

I rouse from anxious nightmares

Awakening to truer horrors

What is believable?

Her lips were the best

Scattered into tiny unrecognizable pieces

Where she licked

I didn’t realize it was all her New York City connections

I thought it was simply

Her eager tongue

One last remark

This is not poetry

Who am I to utter

Ice-cream truck organ broadcasts

Tomorrow guarantees new beginnings

To an unforgiveable forgiven past

I miss her presence

My life is a frog

Electra-Girl

Electra-girl gyrates desperately.

Daddy is away on business.

The house practically empty,

Desolate winds rattle windows,

Stomach twists with craving.

Electra-girl squeals,

“Kill Mommy! Get her out of the picture.”

Little Miss teacup wants everything just right,

When daddy gets home.                                                                         

Electra-girl vomits hairball,

shaves thighs belly armpits,

Plucks neck chin nostrils,

Applies lipstick moderately,

Puckers (finger pushes hemorrhoid in).

She denies everything.

Imagines he is showering,

She enters nude giggling big grin,

Gaze scampering between his face and genitals,

Her approaching young body edging nearer.

He hesitates standing under waterspout,

Waiting to see what she will do,

Fearing his own desire,

Knowing it is wrong so wrong.

After what seems a long time,

Mom steps in,

Eyes firing rage and sanction.

She asks her daughter, “You think you’ll win?”

Electra-girl answers without hesitation,

“Why wouldn’t I.”

No question.

Your shit stains on carpet,

Your pee stains on everything,

Your breath smells,

Odor of rotting flowers.

Smile for the camera.

Electra-girl raises arms and taunts,

 “I win! I win!

Who’s going to be my next daddy?”

A deep heavy silence follows.

She holds herself in mirrors of her past.