BOOM! (the world!) So I hung up the receiver of the phone. You tried to tell me what the hell I know. Needlessly mentioned, I was pissed. I don't understand why My integrity draws so much fire. Have I been a liar? Or a fucking idiot? What's the goddamned deal? I stand accused. Again. Perhaps, If you had tried - Or maybe, just maybe Risked asking me about it all upfront Instead of condemning me For some offense spewed forth from Your paranoid delusions You wouldn't have committed suicide in my mind. But you did anyway. And you took a swing at me On your way out. Step off, bitch. You can't provoke me Or even think about dragging me down. You need to buy a clue And let me tell you why. You're living the same fucked-up vicariousness That everyone else is enslaved by - Another soul-sapped sleepwalker Doing the degrading tasks of monumental monotony Appointed by the Holy Dollar In a system where Everyone sacrifices their dreams for a piece of the take, a system which is a sinking ship in a sea of shit. Idiots and weak-willed lemmings like you are everywhere. You always clutter up the road with your cars (fucking correspondence drivers!) And your always where I'm going when I get there. And you all have a 911 to Jesus To call, 24 hours a day, To come and rescue you from your responsibilities And make up your mind. With your celestial authority and social inbreeding You come up with the Answers. And so everyone girds up their hypocrisy, Sharpens up their persecution, And inflicts their guilt on the next generation. The lions of change are destroyed; The jihad of Truth kills like a plague To prevent its own self-reflection, Which might reveal that True Authority Lies the in shallow water of popular belief. Everyone runs around searching for themselves searching for each other crying with fear; Not wanting what you find and settling for less, Dwelling in mutual misery and despondency, Masks with no face beneath. It is because you deny the essential meaning In your every choice, your every action. You can't see your own freedom deprivation, The individual self society negates. So you pursue the slop Society has provided for you (buy into the illusion) Letting the voice of Want drown out the quiet voice of need (whose revenge comes when you fall asleep) And then try to rationalize it all out afterwards. This is retro-meaning, walking backwards through life: No conscience, no future, and innate slavery. You seek the happiness That only money and some outdated Love can buy. You don't even have the right fucking metaphor! You wouldn't know real happiness From a chainsaw lobotomy. Your happiness is nothing more than A number on a check A free weekend And the dream of certainty. There's more to it than the surface, my dear - Everything we believe, that occurs to us, Is important on a cosmic scale, having meaning Like necropheliac, transvestite aliens landing in your backyard. Your reference point to the universe is You And when It happens You happen And you might have to be someone new Change or die. I've been awakened to the phenomenon But I've not claimed to be some infinitely wise guru. I haven't seen it all done it all and sure as hell don't know it all. But I've certainly seen enough, done enough, and know enough To keep from fucking up as bad as everyone else. And as far as I can see, all you're amounting to is wasted time. All you can do is whistle in the dark And pray that someone doesn't come along And drag you out of your TV-eyed world of selfless devotion to the petty empty universe of dreams you bought with you own lack of willpower. Some of us simply don't play that game. I wear a bullseye on my breast like a target And catch your flak. I guess I should know better. It is said that Nice Guys finish last. I've tried to ignore this fact for years. Unfortunately The quintessential truth of it is undeniable. In a world of smashed spirits and political correctness We still have the same old white male patriarchy. They still run things; the self-serving, self-important assholes that have always been in charge. And What's funny Is that you still want them. (You materialistic bitch!) This is the problem. Being a nice guy make you a victim When the assholes of the world Finish despoiling the women They, in turn, unleash their anger on someone More innocent, more vulnerable - That's YOU, Nice Guys. Well, here's my response to that: Don't be a D.O.I.M. (that is, a Dumped-On Innocent Male) Strike a blow for you! Earn women's enmity - Just piss one off - just one - And then you'll deserve the hell you catch for Being male like the assholes mucking things up. You do NOT have to be a martyr! Send the message: "We are all going to be assholes until the day you decide that we're worthwhile and desirable 'cause you always leave us to rot. We get put on a pedestal and admired then dropped onto a shelf to collect dust while you go look for the biggest asshole around. Sometime down the road, when all your zest for life is spent, you polish us up and die the death of marriage and prepare to live always under the shadow of boredom you've cast on us. Well, bitch, here's a newsflash for you: You want respect? Grow up and earn it! We're a lot fed up with this shit; you want us to change you go after those who don't; what the hell do you call that? Set a precedent - choose the one you really want. We're fucking tired of the effort to change 'cause we aren't getting anything in return. It's funny - we never notice when things go right; we only bitch about what's wrong. So here's my bitching: You wanna label me a misogynist? You wanna say I'm the type who both loves and loathes women? Not true. I just haven't MET any. The games you play mark you as children, little girls who eagerly go seek excitement and danger and who don't have the slightest clue as to why you always end up hurt. And then you turn to us. Here's another newsflash: We don't want you. Why? Do the words "Used Property" mean anything to you? Things aren't getting better between us because the serpent is swallowing itself; we put out fires with gunpowder which extinguishes all in self-destruction." Now, DOIMs, Go forth and do your duty! Fight for what is yours - You can't be happy any other way Because This is It - The way it is. The world is its dominant viewpoint, my friends, And its not Answer I'm satisfied with Or anything I want to be part of. There are no Answers When the Questions do not lend to certainty. There is no Truth to be had But that which we seek and find. Otherwise, You must try and sink into the dogma And settle accounts with Providence. But what you'll find Is the sidewalk rushing up to meet your fall - Conformity to street pizza mentality. It is mandatory smashing independent thought A clockwork orange Dying because you desire what you should not. And guilt keeps it all alive. So everyone grinds onward, hurting each other; Attempting to give the other guy a worse psychosis, Plunging him into a nightmare. And everyone just sits back And accepts the mad tyranny running wild, Praying that tomorrow will be better than Today Rather than act in less than desirable Now. I know the emptiness I know the struggle. I know what I must do. And you tell me I don't know about the "real world." Well, I know one thing for certain: I don't need any of your hypercritical shit, Much less anything else, from you To survive. At least my eyes are open. This is not some fucking mental game Or naive youthful idealism This is cold, rational hermeneuticism at its finest. Smash the icons And kill the camel. It's time for a new breed, baby. Drop your baggage And catch my train to nowhere And tell this fucking world goodbye, 'Cause it's time to turn out the lights And get on with it.