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i disregard, i disregard, i'm disregarded. figured you'd have open arms. now it's too late. doesn't matter anyway, right? right. right. i move along, i move along, i keep longing, and i don't even know what i want. a change of state? it's okay to fluctuate, right? right. right. so... yeah? what do you think of this? not bad. guess i'm doing fine. not good enough though. gold- or land-mine? who's got the say-so? we're just a pack of matches with x's for eyes, and we all go "awww." i put it on, i put it on, i get put on. the cuffs fit but the rest is wrong. we took the bait. a better one's on layaway, right? right. wrong! my business cards are avant-garde, it's retarded. i let this shit go way too far. it's give and take, at least until i get my break, right? right. wrong! we're not ready, and the next step's nowhere to be found. in a few months, we'll see if anyone's still around. what do you do? where do you go? we're turning to stone. what do you do? where do you go? fuck if we know. what did you do with the status quo? we set the bar low. what'll you do? where will you go? what you say goes. i know that i've been playing dirty dirty tic-tac-toe, moving all the pieces when your back was turned. i've been playing with your expectations, misleading you with x's and o's. you don't need to tell me what i know: manipulators can't cry when they're overthrown. thought i was screwing you, but you were screwing me. thought i was screwing you, but you were really screwing me.
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the walls are dripping. the cement's aching. i'm awake. it's not a photo. it's not a picture you can take. a hollow grave is an empty home. a hollow grave is all alone. this picture's blurry. the frame is cracking. this is fake. the walls aren't sinking. the ceiling's rising. i escape. a hollow grave is an empty home. a hollow head is an empty water hole. i'm always thinking. it's just a thing that i do: laying in bed, hiding my head, thinking of new ways to procrastinate, thinking of brand neat new fates. don't be so sad to see me go. i'm just a youth in transit. i'm just a breakheart bandit. but my heart is no empty hand, and my stare is no empty demand. the situation's a comedown. you sit, you sit, you situate. you sit, you sit, you sit, you wait. a life like this, production's amiss. production's a myth. production is a miss. i'm always thinking, "my life revolves around empty bottles and cans, clap your hands. don't make demands." i'm just a young kid, i'm just a young man. decision, decision, indecision. i'm always thinking, "my life revolves around empty bottles and cans, clap your motherfucking hands." the same decision, the same decision, indecision all the way. your seed is running home free, he's running right by me.
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this is the play-of-toy-guns we act in when we're acting out. cutting in turns and we gotta get out of here. we're folding all our best ones; we get like this when we get down. you want it all and then some. you want it and you want it now. designing accidents, amateur architects are sounding a false alarm, calling all hands on deck, so throw your shit in the kitty and put your poker face on when you call me out. eyepatches are in; the adjustment's not so bad. we won't miss depth perception that we never had. you've got the power to lay low for hours in hide and seek. i've got the feel-good, but you're nowhere near; would nothing make you come to me? what could it be? we will go down with this ship. action/reactionary. i'm counting back from one million, wasting each second individually. short time, long leash, blink once and we're out on the ocean. stay aboard, the pieces fit, with the intercom filling all the silences.
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i got the keys to gossip city. let it be fast and pretty. let it fill me. ain't no use in waiting around, i've gotta hit the town if it kills me. when he showed his feelings, it was so revealing, but i gotta move along. when she showed her feelings, it was so revealing, but i gotta move along. sorry to the guests. one in a social setting. earnestness is dangerous. one in a chit-chat orgy. what do you want from me? the life of a criminal is forsaken, but so sexy. give it to me! awesome! if i go AWOL, please don't form a posse against me; just don't find me. i'll sing for little or nothing, just give me an ear and i'm humming a song of social conquests. let's talk something cheap and easy, my stomach's for the fast and greasy. this garbage, this garbage, o! my garbage! i'm feeling ill. one in a social setting, i can't explain myself. it's like this: i'm incognito. i find that it's easier, as mr. john doe, to become the chameleon and save face on the social front. i've been known to pick up and go. no warning. i see the opportunity come, and i'm gone. hit the ground, cause i'm a loaded gun. i've been the trustee and truster, and seen it; i've seen the way things can go. got let down on every side. the best side is no side at all. so i sing and i scream like a crow, to warn you: my mating call is bad mistletoe. it's no use. i try but someone always comes. you say you kept it down low. you're so numb to say so. you say you don't know where it came from. you let go. you said you kept it down low. now you play dumb. you let go. you never should wait so long for nothing.
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all your safe and silent things, strewn like debris. intention or accident? are they for me? and what would that mean? i can profess to care about your problems, but are you faking your trials? are you faking your suffering? you know you should close the book, but you can't. why not? you tore apart your history to set yourself free. quoted from your diary: "nothing fills me, and i am alone." now i'm reading, but clinically, like we've never met. you know you should let me close the book i'm trying to help but you can't, why not? there's something important in here. confessions that i can't believe, because there's nothing filthy. do you need an audience? did you write this for me? and what would that mean? SOS, your final offer. SOS, you'll find it all. you'll get yours.
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released October 10, 2004
recorded by farhad ebrahimi
mixed by farhad ebrahimi and clickers
mastered by justin herlocker
all songs written and performed by clickers
