Hang You Upside Down

as sometimes happens
a moment hovered and remained
for much more than a moment
underneath the weight of everything
we're turning black coals into diamonds
and we're sifting through the remains
and picking out the pearls when we find them

and we're drawing lines to form fish in the sand
if they find you out they'll hang you upside down
with sharpened spikes to form fit through your hands
and twisted thorns for a crown

now the happy ever after is still a ways away
have patience
when the good news took root
all the other just became outside interference

and we're drawing lines to form fish in the sand
if they find you out they'll hang you upside down
with sharpened spikes to form fit through your hands
and twisted thorns for a crown

rumor has it the skeptics are restless
be sure to tip your hat when you go by

now we're drawing lines to form fish in the sand
if they find you out they'll hang you upside down
with sharpened spikes to form fit through your hands
and twisted thorns for a crown

Scarred But Smarter

if it's all true
the only time you fail is the last time you try
if I concede defeat will i be complete in my failure
am i incomplete and a complete failure
disconcerted after the last of the great you and i disasters
i'm spent i'm done being broken

tossing in the towel
washed my hands and cut my teeth
penned an ode to my belle dame sans merci

and i'm so scarred

and it's all true
the flesh was weak and the spirit was too
you should know
the wool you pulled down on your faithful martyr
was blazoned "scarred but smarter"

the oft-fooled prince is losing sleep
at the thought of being the jester
for the court of the queen of double-speak

eight years is a long, long time to seek
and never find what you want
you don't know and you don't want me
and i'm so scarred

count your losses
and cast off your ashes and sackcloth
resigned to be idle for a while

me and sherine bridges the gap
between the one you think you can live with
and the one you know you can't live without

it's not that i feel good
it's that i still can feel that's good
and that's all that's good for now
i'm too scarred
i'm too scarred
i'm too scarred

Reeperbahn

on a curb with hamburg's
dust under my shoe
things for sale as black as hell
in pyrite's golden hue
there's a ten-foot high window display
for something bittersweet
a book shop sets my backdrop
on this busy port town street

there's a cigarette stuck in the mouth of an overpainted...
there's a cigarette stuck in the mouth of an overpainted...

on a curb in hamburg
watching the junkies zig-zag
breathing something mysterious
into an otherwise empty bag
outside the shops that never close
on a moonless, starless night
across from where the harlots pose
beneath a block-wide neon light

there's a cigarette stuck in the mouth of an overpainted
there's a cigarette stuck in the mouth of an overpainted
there's a cigarette stuck in the mouth of an overpainted whore
and she comes so close
i can smell the smoke
and she makes a quote for the price of her wares

there's a cigarette stuck in the mouth of an overpainted
there's a cigarette stuck in the mouth of an overpainted whore
and she comes so close
i can smell the smoke
and she makes a quote for the price of her wares
of her wares
of her wares
of her wares

Suture

today's the day i'll draft my swan song
borrowed heavy on theme of the 51st psalm
i'm reticent i am ill-secure
i'm a bastard son in search of suture

here's to reversing the pole on my aum magnate
it's attracted the worst of times i've had yet
take back this sin disease i don't want it
brought my temple down and left it haunted

to be broken and have the wounds heal crooked
the patient remains ill and looks it

to be broken and have the wounds heal crooked
the patient remains ill and looks it

what resurrected what i had put to death
showed me the prose but not the poetry of the flesh
when your father figure is on temporary lease
you keep your heartstrings on the short leash

to be broken and have the wounds heal crooked
the patient remains ill and looks it

to be broken and have the wounds heal crooked
the patient remains ill and looks it

Weathervanes

a black-eyed bruise
a severed connection
the fire that burned the bridge was born of constant friction

whittled down
and ground to dust
the link between the two extremes was given up for lost

we the three weathervanes are feeling the winds to different degrees

check yourself
plumb the depths
ponder the weight of what you hold under your breath

tame the tongue
loose the bind
the Spirit's fruits were left to rot out on the vine

we the three weathervanes are feeling the winds to different degrees

we paved the path
of least resistance
swept the dust under the rug and waited in suspense

the savoir-faire
to wound the soul
lessened the sum of the parts for the whole

we the three weathervanes are feeling the winds to different degrees

under fair-weather, fair-weather
under fair-weather
old self is as old self does
and the pride that hurt us stole the purpose whatever that was

Walking Wounded

i've been sparring with my ghosts
they've been ducking all my blows
and the apparitions i've been missing
got all dressed up in your clothes

you've been pulling your hair out
through the hole in your thinking cap
our make-believe match made in heaven
was the best you ever had

so here's me i'm walking wounded to be near to you
this time promise you won't move 'til i'm through
it's a curious way we collide

so you dropped the leading strings
of your sunday-school deity
there's a God-shaped hole inside of your heart
and it aches for company

so here's me i'm walking wounded to be near to you
this time promise you won't move 'til i'm through
it's a curious way we collide

all we were never would have been
without the black earth of wanderlust to grow in
so here's me i'm walking wounded to be near to you
this time promise you won't move 'til i'm through
promise you won't move 'til i'm through
promise you won't move 'til i'm through
it's a curious way we collide

Anonymous F

kept the string
just long enough
so the key could reach the lock
without taking it off
inside candy for your vision
no sign of any supervision

a pavlovian response
to an otherwise dry matter
and i'm ashamed at my response
to an otherwise dry matter
kept it in
just long enough
to bring it to a boil
and blow the top off
what was inside
well below the cortex
has come outside
and reared its ugly head

i'm sure freud would have a line
for a problem such as mine
direction fades beneath deep sighs
the wage of sin pays you back in kind

anonymous f

the skewed view
a lack of discretion
and the naked truth
airbrushed to perfection
keeps coming back
to rattle the bones
of all the skeletons
your forgotten closet holds

clive staples had insight
to the unclean appetite
the pictures taken
the images aligned
in the darkest darkroom
ever designed

anonymous f

Halcyon Days

bend an ear
the soft knock of opportunity is hard to hear
above the din of progress' regress
and what appears in the wreckage
of what was hoped for, waited for, and love's labors lost
click your heels
approaching heaven lessens
sin's appeal
let the presence of purpose proportion the spin of your wheels

God need only speak to calm the waters
halcyon days are coming back again
God need only speak to calm the waters
for the halcyon days

genuflect
the master, maker deserves all due respect
above the host of angels set the standard
the current turbulence won't matter
when the tempest comes to pass

God need only speak to calm the waters
halcyon days are coming back again

God need only speak to calm the waters
for the halcyon days
halcyon days
halcyon days
halcyon days

the image of the absolute from this far
gets distorted and obscured
but the evidence tends toward
what the ancients were commended for

fan the flames
potential has a shelf life
prone to fade
let agape's author cover over everything
God need only speak to calm the waters
halcyon days are coming back again
God need only speak to calm the waters
halcyon days are coming back again
God need only speak to calm the waters
halcyon days are coming back again
to calm the water
for the halcyon days

Encore

sometimes the pen cuts deeper than the sword
and what's been repressed comes back for an encore
all the mistakes made and the consequence
hope still cushions the shock of experience

to be broken and have the wounds heal crooked
the patient remains ill and looks it

Rosinante

i'm a diamond tipped spinning drill bit
i spend all my time in and out of it

walking infinite mobius strip
i spend all my time getting off of it

i've been hanging 'round your windmills
making mountains out of molehills
where are you rosinante, rosinante?

i'm paper mache in the potter's clay
i spend all my days coming out of shape

i've been hanging 'round your windmills
making mountains out of molehills
where are you rosinante, rosinante?

i've been hanging 'round your windmills
making mountains out of molehills
where are you rosinante, rosinante?

All lyrics by Jeremy Post except "Rosinante" by Jeremy Post and Bruce Winter. All music by Jeremy Post, Brad McCarter, Erik Herzog. All songs © 1997 infernal combustion music. (ASCAP)

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