Coffee Black
You like your coffee black,
your neighborhood white,
your lights are out at nine o' clock at night.
Are you affraid of everything, or just the truth?
You've got pre-packaged food,
Family Feud, faith in the church,
and a good clean attitude.
Are you affraid of everything, or just the truth?
The only problem that you've got,
is the night that Wheel of Fortune's not.
And the only thing you haven't bought,
are the people that are buying you.
You are the Moral Majority, devoid of moral priority.
You are Barbie Doll sorority.
You are the Boys' Club government.
How we lust familarity, speedy compact portability.
Every step that you take forward,
is a generation back for us.
We are the ugly.
We are the gay, Impoverished, effeminate, and overweight.
Take your consumer culture back from us.
It's a fucking economic attack on us all.
And the Football Season is the only reason you stay alive in your Prime Time beehive.

The First Song On The Tape You Make Her
You are the only good suggestion.
Truth in an age of question.
And in my compassless digression,
you give me sense of direction.
I got it bad for you.
So bad for you.
The naughty what nots for you.
A deep soft spot for you.
I wasn't sure how I should tell you,
and all my other ideas fell through.
This is the best way I could tell you...
you look like Love.
So just pop it in and play.
I'll be around in a couple of days to find out if you feel the same way.
You look like Love.
There is no greater weapon than her name.
No chemical toxin quite the same.

Laughing Out Loud
Sometimes I'd like to know the insides of my wrists.
Sometimes I'd like to do what does not happen after this.
It's crazy, but it seems that I do nothing but let down.
I'm not doing any good.
The me you know is fraught with flaw,
and I bet you wish I would.
It's not crazy, it's just clear.
I do nothing but let down.
That another story for another time.
Another valid feeling you can undermine
Another crooked notch carved in your valentine.
I can hear you typing now (lol).
You're laughing out loud

Perfect Stranglers
Once near, now remote.
Not just far, remote.
Saw you downtown, remote.
Eyes shifting, around and around.
Remote.
I'm sure it's cold inside your room.
This is the story of a woman who ran

Like Strings (Spell It With A K)
Hit the road and you ignite.
Just add Pabst and eyes grow wild.
I know this town has got you down
and you can't take the pain she brings,
so fuck old friends you've got four here,
tight like strings.
We may never make sense to them.
Because of who we are,
because of what we do.
But what good are they anyway,
when we can only cry on tour?
Now you're fighting the need to be alone,
because a hundred miles outside your calling zone,
there's a bed, a dog, and a girl you once called Home.
But like all good things, they must end,
so just tough it out with your dirty friends.
How good were "things" anyway?
When the pretense won't wash away?
And these cigarettes are smoking you.
And the sex is doing nothing.
And it seems there is no medicine, just that cliched Open Road.
We've been sitting here too long. Lets go.
I know this town has got you down,
and you can't take the pain she brings.
Fuck old friends, you've got four here, tight like strings.

Half Friend Town
Here it is I hide,
independently confined to this Half Friend Town.
Prisoner where I reside,
cower from the Gainesville eye.
Welcome to Half Friend Town.
And we all know what that means.
It means giving up and selling out on all of our dreams.
Here I think in song,
here I speak freely of my flaws (and my excesses).
I pray it won't be long.
I pray I will move on,
while the rest regress.
Out-punk or punk out.
Those are your only options here.

Scapegoat Wets The Whistle
I wouldn't mind being alone,
if I could find a way for me to not be there.
I just can't shake me.
Bled being dry dry, a weight that broke my back.
Back to an unhealthy habit(at). Back.
You know that "message in a bottle"?
Well I had to drink to get it out.
I still can't decipher the code.
There's so much more to shout about.
I hate it when I breathe; I hate it when I'm me.
I thought I could take a break.
Don't you have more to shout about?
Is that what made us friends?
Is that what made me okay?
Is that all there was to me?
Back. And its a shame we view this as a loss of faith, or loss of trust.
We've got all this time, but we've got no lives.

Home Is Where The Heart Aches
Count me in, before you kick me out. We could argue 'till we're blue in my face, adding assault to injury. Be gentle. It's my last time to shine, else I fall victim to the fists of time. It seems our blood is worth no more than mud. But that's a blessing, isn't it? And, of course, I give into it. Home is where the heart aches. Home is where the love breaks. Home never happened to me. What you see is what you get, and I suggest you get used to it. Because I will never make you proud, and that's something I can live with. Things don't change, they stay the same. It's only the words that rearrange. I am the person I can't ignore. I am the person that I abhor. Fifteen years of endless fear, of stolen youth, of keeping clear. I am the person you can't ignore. I am the son you will never adore.