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thoughts thinking about themselves under a projector witha cracked lens

from phlegm - one night stands with out of tune instruments in a room with blue wallpaper by phlegm (brad hamers & slomoshun)

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    phlegm (brad hamers & slomoshun) - debut LP 2002 Three Sides Of A Circle (3SC)
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lyrics

thoughts thinking about themselves under a projector with a cracked mirror and an unfocused lens

cutting scissors along dotted lines
sign your name
then break the pen in half, throw it on the floor
faces floored
unaware of what’s in store
and we’re in stores around the world ordering heroes
to help us
breaking news over my knee
let the whips crack and now people are falling in crevasses
getting backhanded by their own children
and america knows the back of its hand
like the back of its hand
buckle down on evil and strap on your seat belt
there’s people speaking in tongues
i listen in ears
and i wish this mute button would just fucking work
saran wrapped cocoon people – well packaged
and ready for inspection stickers
all in lines waiting for the instructions pamphlet
somebody incidentally left out of the box
grab your boots and laces and pray for
a shortage of chalk, so we’re never stuck
between lines
people painted on sidewalks by bad artists
with broken brushes
and civilian eye witnesses wearing wrist bands
to let the blind bar tenders know that they can drink
oh, this beverage on the rocks, stuck between a hard place, artificially flavored with sour blood, cut with water, diluted by salt grains, and decorated with paper umbrellas
my machinegun voice drowns out
your non-swimmer hand gun ass shallow end of the gene pool screams
we’re power! – clenched fists, steroid biceped, dog tag leashed, phallus construct, penis high, economically more erect, viagra for your gapped teeth poverty-stricken housewife, briefcase army of hopeless ants, javelin fenced promise land
we construct our lives specifically to be remembered after we’re dead
time capsules, well recommended to be taken
with a full glass of bullshit
and before a meal off silver plates at dinner tables
where children are force fed with crooked spoons
we are rifle men. hunters, with wives in ovens and
children in pleated skirts at a give me your future
in a wooden box boarding school
place blame where ever it seems to fall
and grand open the cage, dress it in triangular plastic flags
we hang food over heads – leave you under impressions
watch you salivate while we ostracize your beating heart and
make you feel unwelcome in your own head
a rotten tooth in the world’s mouth
-tie it to door number 3 and just wait for
opportunity to start knocking
venom dripping on laminated place mats
critical leaks in the roof of a mouth
where we must find the root canal
fuck it if it really fits into our puzzle
the puzzle with the pieces that aren’t even
aware that they exist on a board
extra sales on american flag printed head bandanas
a village bully with a jock strap around his skull
which belongs to a skeleton
kept in a walk-in closet
lynched by twisted hangers
the attic of a country
with off scented mothballs
and dead bolted chests
stuck out with pride
the big man on campus
in a university of midget minded fools
puppet strings played like fiddles
the ventriloquist makes the wooden people drink a glass of water
and our back bones rot
we need soar thumbs to point fingers at
and digits to pull triggers
keep ‘em clenched
patriotism is at risk, no hang nails, only fine groomed cuticles
sitting ducks waiting for the nail clippers to attack
so we can pull our penises out and cock back
phallus constructs flaccid and we’ve got missiles for arms
let’s cut off the limbs and watch the leaves fall
yes, i’m well read
but best when blue
a military of green capped people screaming go
chaos is in the back pocket of order and i can’t find my i.d. card
it makes me think of warm food in a flower pot
we’re good liars, bad expressionists, but very well entertained
make the popcorn and get new batteries for the remote
it’s a drive in where we’re on the screen getting driven out
by concepts without cars
walk the plank, choose which side of the fence, walk a fence
tame the offense with its elbow pads on tables, don’t touch my morality in its privates
where’s the greener grass, and we’re all on pilgrimages, searching for
miracle grow gardeners
i’m a brick in a wall
that’s getting spray painted
by a graffiti artist that lost his mind
when he found his reason next to the blank notebook
on the floor of his room
where he once hung posters of idols
we all wake up in the morning trying to be
salute to the button pusher
wheel of fortune spinner
bleach distributor
q 33 bombing industrial smiley faces
neck tie in slip knots, panties in bunches
high caste systems and fuck the underachievers
sound the horns and mute the thinkers
sign your name

credits

from phlegm - one night stands with out of tune instruments in a room with blue wallpaper, released March 5, 2002
lyrics & vocals by Brad Hamers
production by Slomoshun

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brad hamers Portland, Oregon

writer, music-maker, collage-maker,, performance-maker, loud dreamer, mental gymnast

(member of: Through Flames, Child Of No Nation, Cat Child, Dust On Snow, Two Ton Sloth, Phlegm and Al Límite Collective)

Artist at Shrine13

www.bradhamers.com ... more

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