Title: Not doing shit

I've been here for a long time
I've been here for a while
I've heard what your lips had to say
I've smiled to see you smile

I'm tired and I'm wasted
I don't like this, not one bit
I'm spending time,
Not doing shit

Title: Entworth Chamberbunk

Title: I'm addicted to Jesus

I'm addicted to Jesus    
I've been mainlining christ
I can't stop my hands shaking
Holy poltergeist

Can't stop the holy spirit
My mind's speaking in tongues
Can't love God if you don't fear it
You pray until you're done

We're snorting, smoking, shooting up,
The savior to our brains
You can't say that you've had enough
With those crosses in your veins

Do it because my daddy does
It makes us feel real close
Stand where the holy father was
The hill where Jesus rose

I dress up nice on Sundays
So they'll give me my fix
You'll always have a fun day
With lord Jesus in the mix

I feel like
I've been dead for days
My face hurts
I sure could use a shave
We're all falling
Forward to our graves
But no one understands
The lord's mysterious ways

I'm addicted to Jesus
I've been mainlining christ
I can't stop my hands shaking
Holy poltergeist

We're snorting, smoking, shooting up,
The savior to our brains
You can't say that you've had enough
With those crosses in your veins

Title: Blame Capital

Idealist impulses
The american condition
third party failures
offshoot my tradition

Find socialism in my dreams
Find the right in my left brain
Logic falls behind the times
As capital shapes our lives

Wish human nature wasn't a part
Perfect beings never would start
With a plan born to fail
All hail all hail

Leave behind parental influence
But never abandon roots
The startup candidate is dead
On a spit place my head

Leave it be and let it die
Keep looking for the pie in the sky
American pie
American pie

So i don't forget

A E D, A E D, A E C, A E D For all verses and choruses

Part where it goes "God didn't help his son": A B G

In song form

Jesus in puberty
Oh lord, he was lonely.
finding himself
No holy father's help.
Oh Jesus was all alone.

He found himself one night lying in bed
When one of the local girls popped naked in his head.
Jesus felt a strange sensation and knew not what to do
Oh Jesus I'm glad I'm not you.

Jesus in puberty
How could it be?
The lord of all humanity
thinking immorally?
Oh Jesus it shouldn't be.

Jesus began to change soon, his body and his mind.
The instincts of man, about which he was soon to find.
A boy divided against himself cannot stand
and Jesus was conflicted, both God and man.

God didn't help his son
Fatherly advice he gave him none.
And Joseph didn't help his kid
So in the temples Jesus hid.

No one demands morality from the savior
so how can Jesus ask about normal behavior?
We tortured the poor guy left him only asking why
Why  have you abandoned me?

Jesus in puberty
why have you abandoned me?
My god, my god
I know you're busy
But I'm in trouble with myself dealing with celebrity.
What's happening to me?

What I thought about during church today

The Bible glosses over many parts of the story of the universe. I can't blame the author because he set out on a journey, the weight of which Tolkien would crumple underneath. When a book begins at the ultimate beginning, the details will be slipshod, few and far between, and controversial. I question the author's choice to include so many specific guidelines for life in such detail apparently at the expense of indulging the reader in the exploits of pubescent Jesus. We have almost no stories of the rebel Jesus as he comes into his own as a man. Jesus' morality is unquestionable as his source of knowledge comes direct from the top, but how did Jesus handle those all too human problems of late childhood? Did the lord suffer from the lonely embarrassment of nocturnal emissions? It must be assumed that neither Mary nor Joseph told Jesus to watch out for the corrupting thoughts of young men that turn innocence to doubts and curiosity into regrets. No one would expect Jesus to succumb to anything in the sordid realm of dewy sexuality so the great Teacher was without a sex-ed teacher.

If the assumption is made that Jesus did have the unfortunate circumstantial disadvantages of puberty foisted upon him by his human half, how could the teenage savior have survived? I believe that there were many private shouts of the Lord's dying words in the prison cot on which Jesus slept in his adolescence. God's celebrity no doubt got in the way of his ability to care for his own holy and spirit, but if there was a time when a father needed to support his child it was then. 

Perhaps God doubted himself. His ability to empathize with his boy could not come from personal experience. Jesus was in the unfortunate position of not having a mentor for his human impulses and an overbearing dictator of a mentor for his holy obligations.

Morality always comes in demands and never as a trend. Jesus was not an emotional man, contrary to what his Hollywood Superstar counterpart would have us believe. The ability to stand trial before God for one's sins can never deter one from sinning, as fear tactics cannot lead to a healthy denial but rather a puritanical duality manifested in fits of emotion. God may have successfully fixed the human problem of sinning for a time with the shock and terror campaign, but when he saw the human race slipping and decided to send his little boy down to teach us all the way of rectitude he couldn't have foreseen the result. The message of forgiveness has allowed us to doubt God's power. A sinner cannot learn from a lack of consequences and the only one who must feel those consequences is the sinner himself. Where forgiveness is a given, sin will follow. Does the murderer forgive himself immediately as God claims to do? No man can live with sin on his conscience unless he has rationalized the sin down to a bastardized category of veniality. Morality is defined within. Once the wicked beast of sin is petted and coddled it will eat away at that morality like smoke in the lungs.

Coincidences

The windshield wipers are unable to do their job now as the rain crashes down. God just had his heart broken.
"Looks like it'll keep going."
"Damn straight."
Either one of us could have said either sentence. Damn straight. That sounds more like him than me, but who knows. The rain has a way of bringing me down that nothing else can do. The rain was my first reasoning behind solipsism. In the movies the weather reflects the characters' mood. Some people like the rain. Some use it as a place in which to sing. But for me, the rain can never be happy. Do I listen to sad music because I'm sad or is the latter a result of the former?
He opens up a beer, which I don't like particularly, considering he's my navigation. But he sees the futility of navigation in this weather. My headlights can only protect me from oncoming cars, which is a small favor I guess. Thanks God. I know he's watching.
"Hey do you ever think that coincidences are more than just coincidences?"
It's unclear who said that. Is it coincidental that I was just thinking that? Have I slipped into thinking about a cul-de-sac question? The answer is yes.
"Yeah I think that," I say out loud just to be sure.
"Like sometimes I'll be walking down the street and the song I'm listening to will say a word and then the word will be somewhere. Like a song says 'change' and then a homeless guy happens right in front of me."
"Damn straight."
"But we can't prove it and that's what's the worst. Lightning never--" We see a bolt of lightning appear on cue. We laugh and the beer ensures us of the triviality of the occurrence.

I get back in the car after getting gas and I smell like fish. The car smells like fish, too. His gaze hasn't torn from the rain outside. The windshield no longer looks like rain is pelting it but more like a bucket of water is being poured over it. Every ad for the best windshield wipers flashes through my mind. Nothing could fix this.
I sit in my seat and place my hands at 9 and 3. I turn to him and he turns to me and smiles warmly, a sudden change.
"Shall we?"
"Yeah let's find a place to crash."
"Is it the morning?"
"I can't remember, but I'm tired. There should be a hotel somewhere around here," Like either of us can even tell what state we're in. We can't even remember how long we've been driving.
I turn the key and make the executive decision to take the next exit and find a major road and look for a motel. The first room I find will be the one I take.
A woman knocks me out of my concentration with a rap on my window.
"Yes'm?"
"Do you know where I can find a hotel?"
I laugh to myself until I realize that this woman is out of my stream of consciousness and is struggling to understand the coincidental humor.
"No. No I don't ma'am. You're welcome to try my strategy of finding an exit and going in one direction until one presents itself. It usually works."
"You're not much help, but thanks."
"Goodnight."
I drive until I hit an exit. Taking the exit overly brazenly I drive through multiple yellow lines. I can't see the barrels that tell idiots like me to jerk the wheel until they've served their purpose. I wonder how present foreshadowing is in life or if that's only in movies and books.
"Hey do you think that God is pulling us around like puppets?"
He is awfully talkative tonight. Thought tends to come like an avalanche, spurred on my a shout and building to a merely shifted conclusion. Snow only moves in an avalanche and nothing ahead of it is ever revealed.
"Yes I do think that sometimes. When things fit too well I think that."
"Hmm. Sometimes I wish it was like that. Here's a hotel."
I pull into the parking lot. I step out of the car to feel the rain on my face because that's what Gene Kelly did in "Singin' in the Rain." I smile because it feels right in a very forced way. A sense of accomplishment comes over me. The feeling of a job well-done, a purpose fulfilled, envelopes me. I walk into the hotel and a thoroughly unattractive woman stands at the counter. She walks away frustrated.
"No rooms left? Where am I supposed to go? There isn't another hotel for miles!"
What luck that I found it at least! I can keep driving, I think.
I walk back outside and my car has disappeared. I guess He took it. Everything falls apart on me. The hotel crumbles behind me and the rain turns into a shower-head stream only for me. I feel like a cartoon character having a bad day. Lightning strikes the ground in front of me and a bush burns brightly in its wake.
"Hello God."
"Hello my son! How are you?"
"Pretty good. I was right, wasn't I?"
"Yes. You were! Way to go, my son! Let's go spend eternity together!"
I think about my math teacher in high school trying to explain what infinity meant. I remember hating that lesson. The hotel returns. The rain drizzles now. My car has returned and He is sitting in the passenger seat opening a bottle of whiskey. I might as well go out now, I think.
"Hand me that bottle," I say as I turn the key.
"Damn straight."