Suck It Forkers, I'm Punk Rock! And I Love You!
Posted: Sun Apr 16, 2006 2:12 pm
I’m Never Too Old for Telepathic Surgery
Don’t worry baby we are on our last hurrah. You can suck the truth right down your throat. Don’t call me anything but a surgeon right about now. I’m metallic, like your fingers, and when I cruise through the air you will feel it. You can feel my spirit drip right out of the tree and it is oh sweet electric. It is electric slow with exquisite spirit and motion. And it is motion that is building a bridge between you my love and my hate. But in the fearless fog of the middle state of things. I will say this to you that the days or rendering the reap to the sewers. We are the things that we are trying to overcome. Oh I think while I feel my knee. I will drop on that knee and look for God. I will pray to God that he have mercy on every one of us. Even those of who in there most confident way secretly worry enough for the entire world collected. They need to be lifted up for the rest of us. They can save us if we will just let our true color show. While it might be a bit predictable to describe a cool and cold moment in time as indigo blue-- But maybe it is just that easy. Maybe we can in fact let our own hearts create the next fold in the box of comfort that we will soon call home. Some day when there is no more need to sacrifice vision, truth, and love for the small fucking indiscretions that make us human. It is the type of human that only all of us know. It is in that knowing that the song will end in the most, glorious triumphant moment. Now it is our time. Our color shines its very own, unique marvelous hue. We are all winding into one another. Is it silence or the loss of sound?
--Uncle Mother Fucking Rubbs
Don’t worry baby we are on our last hurrah. You can suck the truth right down your throat. Don’t call me anything but a surgeon right about now. I’m metallic, like your fingers, and when I cruise through the air you will feel it. You can feel my spirit drip right out of the tree and it is oh sweet electric. It is electric slow with exquisite spirit and motion. And it is motion that is building a bridge between you my love and my hate. But in the fearless fog of the middle state of things. I will say this to you that the days or rendering the reap to the sewers. We are the things that we are trying to overcome. Oh I think while I feel my knee. I will drop on that knee and look for God. I will pray to God that he have mercy on every one of us. Even those of who in there most confident way secretly worry enough for the entire world collected. They need to be lifted up for the rest of us. They can save us if we will just let our true color show. While it might be a bit predictable to describe a cool and cold moment in time as indigo blue-- But maybe it is just that easy. Maybe we can in fact let our own hearts create the next fold in the box of comfort that we will soon call home. Some day when there is no more need to sacrifice vision, truth, and love for the small fucking indiscretions that make us human. It is the type of human that only all of us know. It is in that knowing that the song will end in the most, glorious triumphant moment. Now it is our time. Our color shines its very own, unique marvelous hue. We are all winding into one another. Is it silence or the loss of sound?
--Uncle Mother Fucking Rubbs
