Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 3
February 1, 2025
Raising the Bar
CHORUS 1
You’re just mad because I’m raising the bar
I’m walking down the street looking like a superstar
Shout your shit at me from your Oscar-Meyer car
Overcompensate for a dick that doesn’t measure far
VERSE 1
Speaking of bars, we got to talk about this
You’re chugging Miller Lite a.k.a. horse piss
That chick looks cute, why don’t you give her a kiss
That’s your grandma, dude, get the fuck off her lips
Your drunken escapade is worth a quick mention
In a place called R-slash Incest Confessions
Those stories are fake, no doubt or a question
But you got a nonfiction Dewey Decimal extension
CHORUS 2
You’re just mad because I’m raising the bar
I’m walking down the street looking like a superstar
Shout your dog whistle slogans from a Cyber Truck
If you died in a car fire, I wouldn’t give a fuck
VERSE 2
Maybe Reddit forums really aren’t your vibe
Maybe farming for kiwis is where you’ll find your tribe
Get pissed at the world, especially all the girls
Who wouldn’t let you pound the pun-tang, ‘cause you made them hurl
Or maybe it’s a pair of dick and balls that you’re after
You can’t confess or you’ll bring your friends to laughter
They got your address, SWAT team makes an arrest
Stuck in a cell with Bubba, well, you know the rest
CHORUS 3
You’re just mad because I’m raising the bar
I’m walking down the street looking like a superstar
Shout the F-slur from your gas-wasting hummer
You deny climate change, die of heat stroke in the summer
You’re just mad because I’m raising the bar
I’m walking down the street looking like a superstar
Shout behind a megaphone from your black and white
Bring it on, Blue Balls, because I know my rights
You’re just mad because I’m raising the bar
I’m walking down the street looking like a superstar
Shout your shit at me from your Oscar-Meyer car
Overcompensate for a dick that doesn’t measure far
VERSE 1
Speaking of bars, we got to talk about this
You’re chugging Miller Lite a.k.a. horse piss
That chick looks cute, why don’t you give her a kiss
That’s your grandma, dude, get the fuck off her lips
Your drunken escapade is worth a quick mention
In a place called R-slash Incest Confessions
Those stories are fake, no doubt or a question
But you got a nonfiction Dewey Decimal extension
CHORUS 2
You’re just mad because I’m raising the bar
I’m walking down the street looking like a superstar
Shout your dog whistle slogans from a Cyber Truck
If you died in a car fire, I wouldn’t give a fuck
VERSE 2
Maybe Reddit forums really aren’t your vibe
Maybe farming for kiwis is where you’ll find your tribe
Get pissed at the world, especially all the girls
Who wouldn’t let you pound the pun-tang, ‘cause you made them hurl
Or maybe it’s a pair of dick and balls that you’re after
You can’t confess or you’ll bring your friends to laughter
They got your address, SWAT team makes an arrest
Stuck in a cell with Bubba, well, you know the rest
CHORUS 3
You’re just mad because I’m raising the bar
I’m walking down the street looking like a superstar
Shout the F-slur from your gas-wasting hummer
You deny climate change, die of heat stroke in the summer
You’re just mad because I’m raising the bar
I’m walking down the street looking like a superstar
Shout behind a megaphone from your black and white
Bring it on, Blue Balls, because I know my rights
January 15, 2025
Black Tar Kiss, Prologue
Living in Sweetwater was like going to a Five Finger Death Punch concert every day for the rest of my life, but there was no heavy metal and no mosh pit, just beer cans, Trump signs, shotgun shells, and idiots who put those things there in the first place. Not a lot of opportunities for a kid like me. Like any small rural town, it was a whole lot of nothing for miles and miles and miles. Maybe some grass here and there, maybe a few cow pies to make my nostrils bleed, and that was about it. My 18th birthday, joyless and festive as it was bound to be, was only a month away, but my father gave me the best gift I could ever ask for and it wasn’t even on my list: a reason to leave him and this god-awful town behind.
There I was walking down that lonely road with a Dark Side of the Moon T-shirt on my back, some blue jeans on my ass, and my whole life packed into a garbage bag slung over my shoulder. I didn’t even bother bringing a suitcase, not that we could afford such fancy things. Just a trash bag for a piece of white trash. How appropriate. I had a gorgon death stare on my face the entire time I was walking. I wasn’t even the least bit concerned about the sores on my feet or the achiness in my legs. Something else of mine was hurting a hell of a lot more than that: my broken spirit.
My mom left us when I wasn’t even old enough to be in the double digits. Too much drinking, too many drugs, and neither me nor my father wanted to deal with her anymore, so she up and left. You’d think that’d be the end of the drama, but my relationship with my dad wasn’t much better. He was a yeller, that’s for sure. I probably would be too if I married a woman like that. Or it could have been a generational thing. Either way, when he yelled at me for the slightest inconvenience, I drifted apart from him. To his credit, he never slapped me or spanked me with a belt like other fathers in my town would have done to their kids. But I guess that’s where the Five Finger Death Punch analogy comes into play: lots of screaming, lots of noise, and lots of BS. I’m surprised my ears didn’t bleed like faucets after one of his fits of rage.
To the surprise of absolutely nobody, I never wanted to see him again, but he sure wanted to see me another time or two. In fact, he was so desperate for a verbal sparring partner that I heard his truck engine gurgling and burping not too far from where I was walking. I’d know that truck anywhere. Didn’t smell great either. For a guy who fixes cars for a living, he didn’t have much time for his own truck. Definitely needed a tune-up. I probably would have had to beg him to tune it up before one of us died from lung cancer. That truck engine got louder and louder, but I just kept walking. As far as I was concerned, the engine and his voice were every bit as obnoxious as each other.
Wasn’t nearly as bad as that horn was, though. He blasted it a few times to try to jolt me out of my pissed off stupor. I didn’t budge at all. Kept walking. He blasted it some more like he was in a jazz band, or maybe Five Finger Death Punch got themselves a saxophone player. I still didn’t turn around to face him. Then he called my name in a way I’ve heard many times before. “Elijah! Get your ass back here!” He honked again. “Elijah! Move it! Come on, buddy, let’s go!” I didn’t give two damns and just kept walking. He honked one more time. “Elijah! Get your ass in the car, now!”
“Yeah, Dogmeat, get your ass in the car! He didn’t say which one, though.” And there he was, parked in a silver corvette off the side of the road, which had like a dozen key scratches on it, probably to reduce its value and make it easier to buy. Or it was stolen from the rich folk in Bull Rope, I’ll never know. That would be White Snake sitting in the driver’s seat. He wasn’t an actual member of the hair metal band, but he did have that long black hair, sunglasses, and leather jacket that would make you believe otherwise. The closest he ever got to playing an instrument was beating rival incel gangsters like a drum, as you could see from the redness on his knuckles.
Riding shotgun with him was Scar Tissue. With that spiky haircut, milk bottle skin, and 70’s porn star moustache, you wouldn’t believe this guy was Latino. But if he had been anything other than milky white, White Snake would have booted his ass a long time ago. I guess he just liked having a guy around who could translate Spanish for him and occasionally curse at other gangsters in his native tongue. It was pretty damn entertaining watching him rundown some poor bastard with words I wouldn’t know if my C+ in Espanol classes was anything to go by. I knew a few words, but I could never hold a full conversation. His English was topnotch, though, so I wasn’t worried about it.
“Dogmeat? That’s what you want to be called now? Dogmeat? What are you, stupid?” Fair question coming from my dad, but I was in no mood to entertain the thought of getting in his truck.
“Yeah, you’re clearly daddy of the year calling him Elijah. That 2,000-year-old fantasy novel ain’t worth the paper it’s printed on, my guy. And that church you go to every Sunday would be better off as a Mickey D’s. The food’s about as fake as the stories in that god awful book.” White Snake wasn’t one to hold back and I already loved him for it. Naturally, I started gravitating toward the corvette with a million scratches on it.
But of course, this conversation wouldn’t be complete if my dad didn’t honk the ear-piercing horn one more time. “Elijah, if you get into that goddamn car, you’re making the biggest mistake of your life, son! You think these high school dropouts care about you? You think these losers are your friends? You’re better than this, damn it!”
I stopped in my tracks and looked back at him with some sad ass eyes, like I was about to see the light. But then again, people who stare at the eclipse with no shades on see the light and look what happened to them. “Sorry, Dad.” I told him. “Your mouth got you into trouble for the last time. Goodbye, old man.”
To the Beethoven-like symphony of my dad honking his horn and cursing at the top of his lungs despite being a good Christian boy, I ignored all of it, and got in the backseat of the corvette. I threw my trash bag of this and that onto the adjacent seat and gave him one last sad-ass look before White Snake and Scar Tissue hooted and hollered in excitement. White Snake stepped on the acceleration and those screeching tires were more heavenly on my ears than my screeching dad’s voice. Off we go into the night without a second thought. Why would I need a second thought? It was the easiest decision of my life walking away from Sweetwater.
For the next three months, one of which my 18th birthday passed without a hitch, I would be a full-fledged member of Black Tar Kiss, an incel gang who fought other incel gangs for the rarest resource of all: the love of some chick with a huge…huge…HUGE…Twitch following. And if she or any other Stacy didn’t want to give us that love, we would take it with both hands, which didn’t sound like a figure of speech to me at that point. It all sounded so exciting even though the first three months was basically a trial period to see if me and Scar Tissue were good enough. Mostly grunt work and white-collar stuff, some wheeling and dealing, and maybe some training in an abandoned building that was great for squatting, both the homestead and gym rat kind.
But after that three month grace period, the three of us were on our way for the biggest battle of our lives: a fracas with Me Encanta Femicidio at Battleground Park. The real excitement was about to begin. But if I’m keeping it a hundred with you all, any excitement I felt during that grace period was starting to feel like homesickness. Yeah, my dad was the only stable environment I’ve ever been a part of. Yeah, he was louder than a heavy metal band who tried WAY too hard to suck up to the troops while using a brass knuckle microphone. But when he told me that joining Black Tar Kiss would be the biggest mistake of my life…he wasn’t joking. If looking at beer cans and Trump signs on the side of a Sweetwater road was enough to make me miserable, hanging around with White Snake was a hell of a lot worse…
There I was walking down that lonely road with a Dark Side of the Moon T-shirt on my back, some blue jeans on my ass, and my whole life packed into a garbage bag slung over my shoulder. I didn’t even bother bringing a suitcase, not that we could afford such fancy things. Just a trash bag for a piece of white trash. How appropriate. I had a gorgon death stare on my face the entire time I was walking. I wasn’t even the least bit concerned about the sores on my feet or the achiness in my legs. Something else of mine was hurting a hell of a lot more than that: my broken spirit.
My mom left us when I wasn’t even old enough to be in the double digits. Too much drinking, too many drugs, and neither me nor my father wanted to deal with her anymore, so she up and left. You’d think that’d be the end of the drama, but my relationship with my dad wasn’t much better. He was a yeller, that’s for sure. I probably would be too if I married a woman like that. Or it could have been a generational thing. Either way, when he yelled at me for the slightest inconvenience, I drifted apart from him. To his credit, he never slapped me or spanked me with a belt like other fathers in my town would have done to their kids. But I guess that’s where the Five Finger Death Punch analogy comes into play: lots of screaming, lots of noise, and lots of BS. I’m surprised my ears didn’t bleed like faucets after one of his fits of rage.
To the surprise of absolutely nobody, I never wanted to see him again, but he sure wanted to see me another time or two. In fact, he was so desperate for a verbal sparring partner that I heard his truck engine gurgling and burping not too far from where I was walking. I’d know that truck anywhere. Didn’t smell great either. For a guy who fixes cars for a living, he didn’t have much time for his own truck. Definitely needed a tune-up. I probably would have had to beg him to tune it up before one of us died from lung cancer. That truck engine got louder and louder, but I just kept walking. As far as I was concerned, the engine and his voice were every bit as obnoxious as each other.
Wasn’t nearly as bad as that horn was, though. He blasted it a few times to try to jolt me out of my pissed off stupor. I didn’t budge at all. Kept walking. He blasted it some more like he was in a jazz band, or maybe Five Finger Death Punch got themselves a saxophone player. I still didn’t turn around to face him. Then he called my name in a way I’ve heard many times before. “Elijah! Get your ass back here!” He honked again. “Elijah! Move it! Come on, buddy, let’s go!” I didn’t give two damns and just kept walking. He honked one more time. “Elijah! Get your ass in the car, now!”
“Yeah, Dogmeat, get your ass in the car! He didn’t say which one, though.” And there he was, parked in a silver corvette off the side of the road, which had like a dozen key scratches on it, probably to reduce its value and make it easier to buy. Or it was stolen from the rich folk in Bull Rope, I’ll never know. That would be White Snake sitting in the driver’s seat. He wasn’t an actual member of the hair metal band, but he did have that long black hair, sunglasses, and leather jacket that would make you believe otherwise. The closest he ever got to playing an instrument was beating rival incel gangsters like a drum, as you could see from the redness on his knuckles.
Riding shotgun with him was Scar Tissue. With that spiky haircut, milk bottle skin, and 70’s porn star moustache, you wouldn’t believe this guy was Latino. But if he had been anything other than milky white, White Snake would have booted his ass a long time ago. I guess he just liked having a guy around who could translate Spanish for him and occasionally curse at other gangsters in his native tongue. It was pretty damn entertaining watching him rundown some poor bastard with words I wouldn’t know if my C+ in Espanol classes was anything to go by. I knew a few words, but I could never hold a full conversation. His English was topnotch, though, so I wasn’t worried about it.
“Dogmeat? That’s what you want to be called now? Dogmeat? What are you, stupid?” Fair question coming from my dad, but I was in no mood to entertain the thought of getting in his truck.
“Yeah, you’re clearly daddy of the year calling him Elijah. That 2,000-year-old fantasy novel ain’t worth the paper it’s printed on, my guy. And that church you go to every Sunday would be better off as a Mickey D’s. The food’s about as fake as the stories in that god awful book.” White Snake wasn’t one to hold back and I already loved him for it. Naturally, I started gravitating toward the corvette with a million scratches on it.
But of course, this conversation wouldn’t be complete if my dad didn’t honk the ear-piercing horn one more time. “Elijah, if you get into that goddamn car, you’re making the biggest mistake of your life, son! You think these high school dropouts care about you? You think these losers are your friends? You’re better than this, damn it!”
I stopped in my tracks and looked back at him with some sad ass eyes, like I was about to see the light. But then again, people who stare at the eclipse with no shades on see the light and look what happened to them. “Sorry, Dad.” I told him. “Your mouth got you into trouble for the last time. Goodbye, old man.”
To the Beethoven-like symphony of my dad honking his horn and cursing at the top of his lungs despite being a good Christian boy, I ignored all of it, and got in the backseat of the corvette. I threw my trash bag of this and that onto the adjacent seat and gave him one last sad-ass look before White Snake and Scar Tissue hooted and hollered in excitement. White Snake stepped on the acceleration and those screeching tires were more heavenly on my ears than my screeching dad’s voice. Off we go into the night without a second thought. Why would I need a second thought? It was the easiest decision of my life walking away from Sweetwater.
For the next three months, one of which my 18th birthday passed without a hitch, I would be a full-fledged member of Black Tar Kiss, an incel gang who fought other incel gangs for the rarest resource of all: the love of some chick with a huge…huge…HUGE…Twitch following. And if she or any other Stacy didn’t want to give us that love, we would take it with both hands, which didn’t sound like a figure of speech to me at that point. It all sounded so exciting even though the first three months was basically a trial period to see if me and Scar Tissue were good enough. Mostly grunt work and white-collar stuff, some wheeling and dealing, and maybe some training in an abandoned building that was great for squatting, both the homestead and gym rat kind.
But after that three month grace period, the three of us were on our way for the biggest battle of our lives: a fracas with Me Encanta Femicidio at Battleground Park. The real excitement was about to begin. But if I’m keeping it a hundred with you all, any excitement I felt during that grace period was starting to feel like homesickness. Yeah, my dad was the only stable environment I’ve ever been a part of. Yeah, he was louder than a heavy metal band who tried WAY too hard to suck up to the troops while using a brass knuckle microphone. But when he told me that joining Black Tar Kiss would be the biggest mistake of my life…he wasn’t joking. If looking at beer cans and Trump signs on the side of a Sweetwater road was enough to make me miserable, hanging around with White Snake was a hell of a lot worse…
January 10, 2025
Martyr for a Lost Cause
Buying in with no return on investment
Selling out for a footnote mention
Martyr for a lost cause, get crucified
But at least you fought with unrivaled pride
Thrown under the bus like a liability
Getting back in good graces is an impossibility
Back of the line at the bottom of the gutter
Your masters call you shit and they didn’t even stutter
One of the good ones? Don’t make me laugh
Failed creative who never signed an autograph
Except on a document listing pocket items
Box that shit away, now you’re in for cage violence
Thank you for your service, but you’re no longer needed
Couldn’t work within the system, let alone beat it
You think you’re respected? They joke about discrimination
You’re not a model citizen, you’re the scourge of the nation
No more invitations to Thanksgiving dinners
All because you wanted fascism to be the true winner
No more presents to unwrap around the Christmas tree
‘Cause you sold out your whole family with hypocrisy
No more vacations to the land of rollercoasters
Your brothers would rather stick their dicks in a toaster
No wedding rings to buy, no children to bear
‘Cause you see tragedy and you don’t even care
Martyrdom for nothing didn’t get you anywhere
You’ve lost your right to tell me it’s unfair
You’ve lost your right to claim victimhood
You did it to yourself, now burn in hell for good!
Selling out for a footnote mention
Martyr for a lost cause, get crucified
But at least you fought with unrivaled pride
Thrown under the bus like a liability
Getting back in good graces is an impossibility
Back of the line at the bottom of the gutter
Your masters call you shit and they didn’t even stutter
One of the good ones? Don’t make me laugh
Failed creative who never signed an autograph
Except on a document listing pocket items
Box that shit away, now you’re in for cage violence
Thank you for your service, but you’re no longer needed
Couldn’t work within the system, let alone beat it
You think you’re respected? They joke about discrimination
You’re not a model citizen, you’re the scourge of the nation
No more invitations to Thanksgiving dinners
All because you wanted fascism to be the true winner
No more presents to unwrap around the Christmas tree
‘Cause you sold out your whole family with hypocrisy
No more vacations to the land of rollercoasters
Your brothers would rather stick their dicks in a toaster
No wedding rings to buy, no children to bear
‘Cause you see tragedy and you don’t even care
Martyrdom for nothing didn’t get you anywhere
You’ve lost your right to tell me it’s unfair
You’ve lost your right to claim victimhood
You did it to yourself, now burn in hell for good!
January 9, 2025
The Devil
Are you The Devil’s Advocate or just The Devil?
Couldn’t even wait for the flames to settle
Got your trident aimed at my throat
Tips are on fire, let’s see a little smoke
You’re not the fun kind of devil like in heavy metal
You’re Adam Cole’s kind: an underwhelming level
Couldn’t scream your way out of a wet paper bag
The only words you know are “whore” and “fag”
Tell me about every grievance you’ve got
Don’t bother with the tissues for your tears and snot
Yell me down until your throat goes raw
Because nothing you say is against the law
Neither is carrying a pair of 45’s
Use them on poor people in order to “survive”
Tuck them in your pockets when a CEO
Comes around the corner, says “Cheerio!”
I guess being The Devil is a pretty sweet gig
Got enough privilege to own all the libs
Own every politician in a thousand mile radius
Still a mystery when you ask, “Why they hating us?”
Self-awareness is not one of your strong suits
Self-reflection isn’t deep enough to get at the root
Live life on easy mode, low-hanging fruit
You got the real-life version of block and mute
You get life advice from a fantasy novel
Two millenniums ago, Jesus was the role model
Just imagine if it was a whole different book
That Moms of Liberty didn’t already cook
Dragons and elves on all of the shelves
Orcs and ogres until the final page is over
Kingdoms modeled after communism
Personal stories about kids with autism
But why should we take those at face value
When they can be an excuse to disembowel you
When they can be a reason to take the Red Pill
When they can be weapons, not pulp at the paper mill
The Devil’s Advocate can steal all the stories
Turn a gay bar into a bloodbath so gory
Put the powerful in power and call them Tories
Pose in front of the flag that we call Old Glory
What a day to be alive in 2025
Where human rights come with fistfights
Where hospital bills break all of our wills
“Let’s have a conversation across the whole nation”
Couldn’t even wait for the flames to settle
Got your trident aimed at my throat
Tips are on fire, let’s see a little smoke
You’re not the fun kind of devil like in heavy metal
You’re Adam Cole’s kind: an underwhelming level
Couldn’t scream your way out of a wet paper bag
The only words you know are “whore” and “fag”
Tell me about every grievance you’ve got
Don’t bother with the tissues for your tears and snot
Yell me down until your throat goes raw
Because nothing you say is against the law
Neither is carrying a pair of 45’s
Use them on poor people in order to “survive”
Tuck them in your pockets when a CEO
Comes around the corner, says “Cheerio!”
I guess being The Devil is a pretty sweet gig
Got enough privilege to own all the libs
Own every politician in a thousand mile radius
Still a mystery when you ask, “Why they hating us?”
Self-awareness is not one of your strong suits
Self-reflection isn’t deep enough to get at the root
Live life on easy mode, low-hanging fruit
You got the real-life version of block and mute
You get life advice from a fantasy novel
Two millenniums ago, Jesus was the role model
Just imagine if it was a whole different book
That Moms of Liberty didn’t already cook
Dragons and elves on all of the shelves
Orcs and ogres until the final page is over
Kingdoms modeled after communism
Personal stories about kids with autism
But why should we take those at face value
When they can be an excuse to disembowel you
When they can be a reason to take the Red Pill
When they can be weapons, not pulp at the paper mill
The Devil’s Advocate can steal all the stories
Turn a gay bar into a bloodbath so gory
Put the powerful in power and call them Tories
Pose in front of the flag that we call Old Glory
What a day to be alive in 2025
Where human rights come with fistfights
Where hospital bills break all of our wills
“Let’s have a conversation across the whole nation”
December 30, 2024
Doom in My Voice
VERSE 1
“Twinkle, smile, stay for a while
Got any plans to travel for miles?
What do you do to earn your paycheck?
What’s with the weather, like, holy heck?”
One-word answers are all I’ve got
Apathetic expression if you like it or not
Baritone voice, but there won’t be singing
This conversation has lost all meaning
CHORUS
“Just pray the negative away”
I don’t have a choice!
“Smiles never go to waste”
Don’t you hear the doom in my voice?!
I just don’t give a damn
If you don’t like who I am
VERSE 2
If smiles cost nothing, authenticity is cheaper
Fuck the weather and the weekend, dig a little deeper
How the fuck did we get on this floating rock?
I’ve got so much trauma to unpack and unlock
How do we dismantle the oligarchy?
And give a middle finger to the patriarchy?
Got no common ground, your confusion speaks volumes
Strangers ‘til the end, don’t know what else to call you
CHORUS
“Just pray the negative away”
I don’t have a choice!
“Smiles never go to waste”
Don’t you hear the doom in my voice?!
I just don’t give a damn
If you don’t like who I am
BRIDGE
Silence is golden, unlike my medals
I didn’t win at life, so I had to settle
I see your eyes darting to the left and right
Now you’re the one frowning and all uptight
My days blend together, joyless yet festive
I’m sorry if you want an inspirational message
The ones who have those are in the minority
You can only do so much under capitalist authority
CHORUS
“Just pray the negative away”
I don’t have a choice!
“Smiles never go to waste”
Don’t you hear the doom in my voice?!
I just don’t give a damn
If you don’t like who I am
“Twinkle, smile, stay for a while
Got any plans to travel for miles?
What do you do to earn your paycheck?
What’s with the weather, like, holy heck?”
One-word answers are all I’ve got
Apathetic expression if you like it or not
Baritone voice, but there won’t be singing
This conversation has lost all meaning
CHORUS
“Just pray the negative away”
I don’t have a choice!
“Smiles never go to waste”
Don’t you hear the doom in my voice?!
I just don’t give a damn
If you don’t like who I am
VERSE 2
If smiles cost nothing, authenticity is cheaper
Fuck the weather and the weekend, dig a little deeper
How the fuck did we get on this floating rock?
I’ve got so much trauma to unpack and unlock
How do we dismantle the oligarchy?
And give a middle finger to the patriarchy?
Got no common ground, your confusion speaks volumes
Strangers ‘til the end, don’t know what else to call you
CHORUS
“Just pray the negative away”
I don’t have a choice!
“Smiles never go to waste”
Don’t you hear the doom in my voice?!
I just don’t give a damn
If you don’t like who I am
BRIDGE
Silence is golden, unlike my medals
I didn’t win at life, so I had to settle
I see your eyes darting to the left and right
Now you’re the one frowning and all uptight
My days blend together, joyless yet festive
I’m sorry if you want an inspirational message
The ones who have those are in the minority
You can only do so much under capitalist authority
CHORUS
“Just pray the negative away”
I don’t have a choice!
“Smiles never go to waste”
Don’t you hear the doom in my voice?!
I just don’t give a damn
If you don’t like who I am
December 14, 2024
Always Wrong
You call me lazy while you sit on the couch
You call me fat while your gut’s sticking out
You call me expendable and wave your pink slip
You call me an idiot while your IQ takes a dip
You call me ugly while your lover is puking
You call me a simp while it’s her you’re abusing
You call me a loser while you’re floundering about
You call me a deadbeat while your future’s in doubt
You call me a snowflake while your eyes are pouring
You say I’m wasting my time while your life is boring
You say I’m virtue signaling to an audience of few
Yet the back of your truck says you “Back the Blue”
You’re running your mouth and you say it’s free speech
But all of my freedoms are somehow just out of reach
You abuse the constitution to make yourself feel strong
You’re not a model of strength, because you’re always wrong!
Always wrong! Always wrong!
I’ll say it over and over across a lifetime so long
Always wrong! Always wrong!
It’s a never-ending chorus for a never-ending song
Always wrong! Always wrong!
Always wrong! Always wrong!
Always wrong! Always wrong!
How are you a threat when you’re always wrong?!
You call me fat while your gut’s sticking out
You call me expendable and wave your pink slip
You call me an idiot while your IQ takes a dip
You call me ugly while your lover is puking
You call me a simp while it’s her you’re abusing
You call me a loser while you’re floundering about
You call me a deadbeat while your future’s in doubt
You call me a snowflake while your eyes are pouring
You say I’m wasting my time while your life is boring
You say I’m virtue signaling to an audience of few
Yet the back of your truck says you “Back the Blue”
You’re running your mouth and you say it’s free speech
But all of my freedoms are somehow just out of reach
You abuse the constitution to make yourself feel strong
You’re not a model of strength, because you’re always wrong!
Always wrong! Always wrong!
I’ll say it over and over across a lifetime so long
Always wrong! Always wrong!
It’s a never-ending chorus for a never-ending song
Always wrong! Always wrong!
Always wrong! Always wrong!
Always wrong! Always wrong!
How are you a threat when you’re always wrong?!
December 3, 2024
You Don't Care
VERSE 1
He’s bleeding all over the streets
Every enemy lies at his feet
Waterfalls pour down his cheeks
Sweat-covered clothing starts to reek
Weapon covered in hues of red
Heartbeat slows ‘til he’s damn near dead
Broken fist raised into the air
And you don’t care
VERSE 2
He’s lying on the pleather couch
Traumatic stories pour from his mouth
When the war started, shit went south
He was always looking for a way out
Every time the door would open
It’d slam his fingers until they’re swollen
His soul on full display to bare
And you don’t care
VERSE 3
The pages have long since yellowed
The critics have raged and bellowed
One star to rule them all
One book as toilet paper in the stall
Back to the drawing board, chalk in hand
Every broken dream has turned to sand
He’s got feelings of his own to share
And you don’t care
OUTRO
You’re so hard to please, you love to hate-watch
You love to just kick us all in the crotch
You’re just waiting for the tiniest botch
Get through another page with a bottle of Scotch
You don’t care, oh no, you don’t care
As if your opinion was enough to scare
Me into being an obedient bastard
But haven’t you heard? I serve no masters!
He’s bleeding all over the streets
Every enemy lies at his feet
Waterfalls pour down his cheeks
Sweat-covered clothing starts to reek
Weapon covered in hues of red
Heartbeat slows ‘til he’s damn near dead
Broken fist raised into the air
And you don’t care
VERSE 2
He’s lying on the pleather couch
Traumatic stories pour from his mouth
When the war started, shit went south
He was always looking for a way out
Every time the door would open
It’d slam his fingers until they’re swollen
His soul on full display to bare
And you don’t care
VERSE 3
The pages have long since yellowed
The critics have raged and bellowed
One star to rule them all
One book as toilet paper in the stall
Back to the drawing board, chalk in hand
Every broken dream has turned to sand
He’s got feelings of his own to share
And you don’t care
OUTRO
You’re so hard to please, you love to hate-watch
You love to just kick us all in the crotch
You’re just waiting for the tiniest botch
Get through another page with a bottle of Scotch
You don’t care, oh no, you don’t care
As if your opinion was enough to scare
Me into being an obedient bastard
But haven’t you heard? I serve no masters!
November 28, 2024
Balls Deep in War
VERSE 1
I logged a hundred hours playing Call of Duty
Neon sign on my head that says, “Recruit me!”
Shave my head right down to my brain
Just kidding, I flushed that shit down the drain
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But a Drill Sergeant’s insults will turn us all to clones
If I break down and cry, I won’t be paid to die
I want to go to war and blow that shit sky high
CHORUS 1
Balls deep in boot camp!
Balls deep in the corps!
Balls deep in push-ups!
Balls deep in war!
VERSE 2
Automatic rocket launchers, automatic bazookas
Hiroshima bombs on the chicks named Asooka
I thought her name was Asuka, but who really cares?
Her pile of ashes is blowing through the air
Semi-auto flamethrowers, Tech Nine shotguns
Colt 45’s? I don’t just got one
I got two of them bitches, ‘cause I want to be the killer
Be the turban slayer and the burqa lady thriller
CHORUS 2
Balls deep in Iraq!
Balls deep in Japan!
Balls deep in Israel!
Balls deep in Iran!
VERSE 3
I’m coming back home to abuse my girlfriend
Beat her ass like a drum until the world ends
Talk shit about Muslims like it’s going out of style
This is Jesus’s world, he’s gonna be here for a while
Get a job with the police, do anything I want
I’ll get away with murder even if I get caught
I was built from the ground up to fight a lost cause
Now I’m like John Rambo breaking vagrancy laws
CHORUS 3
Balls deep in therapy!
Balls deep in my wife!
Balls deep in divorce!
Balls deep in civilian life!
Balls deep in loneliness!
Balls deep in being poor!
Balls deep in debt!
Balls deep in war!
DIALOGUE
“The few! The proud! The marines! Because toxic masculinity is what built America!”
That’s not a good thing, yo…
I logged a hundred hours playing Call of Duty
Neon sign on my head that says, “Recruit me!”
Shave my head right down to my brain
Just kidding, I flushed that shit down the drain
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But a Drill Sergeant’s insults will turn us all to clones
If I break down and cry, I won’t be paid to die
I want to go to war and blow that shit sky high
CHORUS 1
Balls deep in boot camp!
Balls deep in the corps!
Balls deep in push-ups!
Balls deep in war!
VERSE 2
Automatic rocket launchers, automatic bazookas
Hiroshima bombs on the chicks named Asooka
I thought her name was Asuka, but who really cares?
Her pile of ashes is blowing through the air
Semi-auto flamethrowers, Tech Nine shotguns
Colt 45’s? I don’t just got one
I got two of them bitches, ‘cause I want to be the killer
Be the turban slayer and the burqa lady thriller
CHORUS 2
Balls deep in Iraq!
Balls deep in Japan!
Balls deep in Israel!
Balls deep in Iran!
VERSE 3
I’m coming back home to abuse my girlfriend
Beat her ass like a drum until the world ends
Talk shit about Muslims like it’s going out of style
This is Jesus’s world, he’s gonna be here for a while
Get a job with the police, do anything I want
I’ll get away with murder even if I get caught
I was built from the ground up to fight a lost cause
Now I’m like John Rambo breaking vagrancy laws
CHORUS 3
Balls deep in therapy!
Balls deep in my wife!
Balls deep in divorce!
Balls deep in civilian life!
Balls deep in loneliness!
Balls deep in being poor!
Balls deep in debt!
Balls deep in war!
DIALOGUE
“The few! The proud! The marines! Because toxic masculinity is what built America!”
That’s not a good thing, yo…
November 20, 2024
You're All Nazis
To every boomer who told me to get a job
To every victim blamer who laughed when I sobbed
To every ableist who called me lazy
To every bully who labeled me a baby
To every dude bro shouting from their cars
To every mean drunk who frequents all the bars
To every cop who ever patted me down
To every invalidator who told me not to frown
To every teacher who tried to break me
To every pervert who wanted to rape me
To everybody who threw their insults
Got a name for you all if you get that impulse
You’re all Nazis! You’re all Nazis!
Do your salute for the swarming paparazzi
Tell the world who you really are
Expose your evil like a fascist superstar
Be honest about your status as an asshole
Make it obvious that you should lose the battle
The war too, let’s not forget the bloodshed
Clean sweep you all, never be an upset
Victory, you’ll all go down in history
For being on the wrong side, the ones who cause misery
Admit to my face that you’re worthy of hate
So I can pack a 45 and seal your fate
A bullet to the dome is what you needed all along
So much evidence against you, how could I be wrong?
Close your eyes, here comes a non-surprise
Bang-bang-bang! Now you lay down and die
To every victim blamer who laughed when I sobbed
To every ableist who called me lazy
To every bully who labeled me a baby
To every dude bro shouting from their cars
To every mean drunk who frequents all the bars
To every cop who ever patted me down
To every invalidator who told me not to frown
To every teacher who tried to break me
To every pervert who wanted to rape me
To everybody who threw their insults
Got a name for you all if you get that impulse
You’re all Nazis! You’re all Nazis!
Do your salute for the swarming paparazzi
Tell the world who you really are
Expose your evil like a fascist superstar
Be honest about your status as an asshole
Make it obvious that you should lose the battle
The war too, let’s not forget the bloodshed
Clean sweep you all, never be an upset
Victory, you’ll all go down in history
For being on the wrong side, the ones who cause misery
Admit to my face that you’re worthy of hate
So I can pack a 45 and seal your fate
A bullet to the dome is what you needed all along
So much evidence against you, how could I be wrong?
Close your eyes, here comes a non-surprise
Bang-bang-bang! Now you lay down and die
November 6, 2024
Launch the Third Rock, Pt. 2
I used to love the idea of reincarnation
That was before the rise of fascist nations
Before I was broken by capitalist education
Before the churchies tried to outlaw masturbation
Never thought I’d be jealous of an aborted fetus
Never thought I’d be thankful for a virgin penis
Wouldn’t bring a new child into this fucked up world
When their only options in life are boy or girl
It’s not just America, it’s the whole third rock
Everybody wants a piece of the awe and shock
Everybody does it for the lulz and the laughs
Israeli bombs get David Draiman’s autograph
Talk about Disturbed, you ain’t seen shit
You got to be disturbed to want any of it
You got to be fucked up in the head really bad
To enjoy the bloodshed that drives all of us mad
Of course you pretend like everything’s okay
‘Cause your American way is the only way
It’s the country where Jesus will come back to life
Bring you to heaven and leave behind your trad wife
Praying on your knees never got you anywhere
Except into a box after years of despair
The elite don’t like you, they do not respect you
Vote for them all you want, they will not protect you
Launch the third rock into the sun in the sky
That’s where we left off, but I’m wondering why
Shouldn’t we take this shit past the point of no return
You like to threaten hellfire? Burn, baby, burn!
You afraid of The Devil? He was here all along
He was every alpha leader pretending to be strong
He was every dictator who silenced his critics
Wouldn’t entertain the chance to learn and listen
You want your own bubble? Now you’ve got it
Protect you from the truth, the wise ones taught it
Protect your pretty soul, the greenbacks bought it
Nobody visits you, because your heart is rotten
We don’t have a loneliness epidemic around here
Got an epidemic of fascists blasting out our ears
You deserve to lose every best friend you’ve got
Your family too, whether you like it or not
That was before the rise of fascist nations
Before I was broken by capitalist education
Before the churchies tried to outlaw masturbation
Never thought I’d be jealous of an aborted fetus
Never thought I’d be thankful for a virgin penis
Wouldn’t bring a new child into this fucked up world
When their only options in life are boy or girl
It’s not just America, it’s the whole third rock
Everybody wants a piece of the awe and shock
Everybody does it for the lulz and the laughs
Israeli bombs get David Draiman’s autograph
Talk about Disturbed, you ain’t seen shit
You got to be disturbed to want any of it
You got to be fucked up in the head really bad
To enjoy the bloodshed that drives all of us mad
Of course you pretend like everything’s okay
‘Cause your American way is the only way
It’s the country where Jesus will come back to life
Bring you to heaven and leave behind your trad wife
Praying on your knees never got you anywhere
Except into a box after years of despair
The elite don’t like you, they do not respect you
Vote for them all you want, they will not protect you
Launch the third rock into the sun in the sky
That’s where we left off, but I’m wondering why
Shouldn’t we take this shit past the point of no return
You like to threaten hellfire? Burn, baby, burn!
You afraid of The Devil? He was here all along
He was every alpha leader pretending to be strong
He was every dictator who silenced his critics
Wouldn’t entertain the chance to learn and listen
You want your own bubble? Now you’ve got it
Protect you from the truth, the wise ones taught it
Protect your pretty soul, the greenbacks bought it
Nobody visits you, because your heart is rotten
We don’t have a loneliness epidemic around here
Got an epidemic of fascists blasting out our ears
You deserve to lose every best friend you’ve got
Your family too, whether you like it or not
