The Pantload

by Wiggler !?!

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Terminal City is a rock and roll town Beautiful people there they like to get down Beautiful people in the rain falling down
I don't know what to tell you that you haven't heard a thousand times before I don't know how to compel you when you know a trite respite is quite a bore Are we on to ennui? In and of itself the boredom's such a chore Too old to be angsty and too much that doesn't happen that I can't ignore And I'll just give you a glimpse inside my head I'm too tired for another retread Matter and energy just don't matter The relevance is relative instead So, where does that leave us? I can't change the world, I can't even change your mind I can't even grieve us broken down to pieces by the daily grind The dawn of a new day? Another couple dozen hours to wait The spawn of a new way? An onslaught of nothing at a fervent pace
I try to keep an open mind, but it's so hard to keep a shut mouth My cynicism is refined and my fortunes are going south 'Cause jade is a lucky colour And jaded leaves an ugly pallor I ride the waves of discontent Maladjusted malcontent, vitriol. An exercise in futility. My patience is in full arrest Such a tragic comedy, the truth of which I can attest
Everybody's sure you've got a just cause Turning blind eyes to obvious flaws Don't see time, now, for reflective pause Your theories seem to hold water like gause Just cause. A retractable clause Everybody's sure you do things just 'cause Drawn a blank on what the reasoning was Well, evil is, Brother, as evil does Here comes the 5-0, here comes the global fuzz
Dig a furrow in the sofa and plant 'em backside down Give 'em a box to stare at and food from the Evil Clown Taunt them with what they don't have to instill a sense of greed Stifle creativity until their brains get atrophied Be sure to harvest them quickly before smug turns to smarm And every year's a bumper crop down on the idiot farm Give 'em a flag to stand behind so they know them from us Teach them how to kneel, obey and swear they'll never cuss Have them shun their naked selves with paralyzing shame Then they'll cull the weak from their own herd until they're all the same
And you know I've got a little bit of gasoline And you know I've also got some kerosene Got some propane and I'm hoping To get a quick light, incite some insight And you'll know and you'll know exactly what I mean Burn it down to fertile ground This mortal coil, it turns unwound 'Cause some things just gotta get out of the way Torch the dead wood, and soon we'll see green through the grey For the neighbourhood, or for my mood I've got a bag of fuck yous. Got one thing to do I've got a lot of samples that I'm looking to give away
Manufactured drama spices up moribund lives Of the clustered worker people in their clustered little hives Awkward situations that seem a little too contrived Offers that it may not be the fittest that survived So, do I find a brighter shade of grey Or hasten the demise of the easy prey My part's non-partisan. Not party to the scam With hope that Darwin's theories will come into play Still clinging to the notion of a meritocracy But we're governed by the pricks who put the phallus in fallacy They trumpet that cream rises, but we know shit floats too, you see And quality of life is a devalued commodity A bigger shovel won't dig out the hole we're in Nor will notions of avoidance and absolution of sin I'll call a spade a spade, you dig, and I'm prepared to take it right on the chin There's a calm before the storm if we can weather the spin
I'm getting tired of being mired in animosity And I'm the only fool to make a fool of me I don't give a fuck about luck, I chart my own fate And sympathy ain't quite in me. Gotta set that straight I'll provide a snide aside when you know all systems are go I can't hide the devil inside. I can't do status quo And this course of discourse is wearing thin, you see And I'm half the man I was supposed to be And I'd rather just be happy But i don't seem to know how Gotta get into the know, now baby Can't be satisfied with the now
There's a terrorist on the corner And there's a monster living under your bed There's a terrorist in the closet The best bogeyman since the Reds Scared people ask no questions Scared people wait in line To give thumbprints and little pee tests They'll take injections if you tell them it's fine
You make no friends when you're looking down the barrel of a gun You'll get no amends from the idiot bastard sun If you're foreign and brown, watch the bombs raining down Be it crusade or jihad, there's naught but scorched earth to be won It's the kinda thing that crashes jet planes With god at their back, they're knocking on your bedroom door With brotherly love for all, but the "homos" abhorred You've got a right to life, if you're still in the wife Of a white trash, Confederate thug from the Christian Core It's the kinda thing that amplifies pain
There's a reason why I'm not like the other boys I'm wearing me three pairs of corduroys I'm staying three steps ahead of the pack Got two on left and right and one in back Give me 10 points when my answer's right I do my own cancan to my heart's delight I'm a dancin' man, but I'm way off beat It's tough to stay in time with my two left feet 'Cause I've got five legs, baby. And everybody sucks but me I can kick your sorry ass with four legs on the ground And when I'm standing 'round, I'm standing round No bipedal man could match my sass With my extra ass and extra half an ass The surf is up, I'm hangin' 25 I'd hacky sack alone if it wasn't jive Doing the Hokey Pokey takes up half my day Gotta wear my Tuffskins with the games I play My pants fit me like a glove
Today we're in a rut, but tomorrow so what? Everybody's looking for a bridge for the gap Between the start and goal, a chasm if it's a hole And dump responsibility on some other sap And we'll traverse the span with a stop gap plan Another Band-Aid bridge to get us just through the now You know that altruism is an atavism as we do the very least our conscience allows Just gotta find a way to make it through another day Tomorrow is another day, when it comes due how are we going to pay? And we pass the buck, but we push our luck When we try to dodge the axe, we know it falls anyway You know we kick and fuss when it comes back to us 'Cause we transferred obligations to the mysterious "they" So procrastination leads to consternation And a Band-Aid bridge to buy us a little while We never fix what ails us, and so the system fails us And legerdemain is just the style of our guile
Got nothing to do, nothing to say Got no ideas for a better way Got no intentions or attentions to pay I've met the match, it doesn't matter anyway So, pour the gas, strike the flint Pluck the rose from the eyeglass tint Gonna start a fire, gonna burn stuff down Just a little gesture to improve this town, it's immolation time I don't dig the pain, I'm just trying to get by But it's worth the flame to feel warm and dry My fresh ideas are in short supply Got no reason not to just give it a try
Destabilize these tabled lies Making friends, breaking amends Do you discuss or dis and cuss? Do you know doubt? Do you nod out? Watch the oil wells burn Commando mission, command omission To shock them all or shop the mall Obscene in deed, mob scene indeed And cast a lure for gas allure
As ships pass in the night with no perceived connections We are islands, one and all As we pass from the fright of travel with no direction We're all bracing for the fall We assemble into clans existing within perception Becoming faces in the crowd Assembling our plans of sedation of sedition What we think is not aloud So make a sound 'cause I don't know what you know All we share is all we show As we massage the truth and tinker with alignment We transmit identity As we assuage the couth and focus our refinement On the bit we'll let you see But what slips through the crack of our image assignment Reveals incongruity When introspection lacks in our self induced confinment We dissuade the empathy
Do you yourself own your cell phone?


I was watching the Daily Show with Jon Stewart. He ran a clip of George W. Bush sitting beside Kofi Anna with his legs splayed open like in one of those man space subway memes.
Jon said, "You're sitting beside the Secretary General of the United Nations. How 'bout closing the barn doors a little?"
It struck me. Dubya had to spread to make room for his pantload of democracy.


released June 13, 2005

Wiggler recommends guitars.

Recorded at The Launch Pad, Vancouver, BC between 2004 and 2005 (Mr! Fivelegsman was recorded in 2000).

Written and directed by Mr! Erik

(c) 2005 3NWD (SOCAN)


all rights reserved



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