Lyrics

Murder Hornets

Another day, another plague,
murder hornets on their way.
Daily lies desensitize--
incessant terror normalized.
All hope seems but a distant dream
drifting away with each deceit.
We've come to know a curse of old--
only misery will be all we'll know.

Another year, a new host of fears
to keep us fed as death draws near.
Preoccupied as we die--
wildfires blot out the sky.
Clowns at the helm overwhelm,
inundate, indoctrinate, buy and sell.
Told to forego all you know
by those who thrive
when your eyes are closed.

O, what could have been--
what could have been
has been and will be again.

So long to linear time--
fate's not a straight line,
it was all inside my mind.

Murder hornets
swarming borders and seas.

Ever looming
a new brewing disease.

All the figures' names change
but the game stays the same--
the waves erase the faces.

How many lives lost?
How many lives
does one man's ego cost?

Abyss yawning
as the new day's dawning.
Bad Taxidermy

Love can seem just like a dog’s life, 
short and sweet ‘til it just can’t walk right. 
I guess it goes for most everybody else, 
I just won’t put it on the shelf 
and hope it’ll grow and flourish and flower 
knowing all the while the thing’s gone sour. 
Some vague hope, some brave joke 
is prodding you on and luring you in 
to an illusion of an image with no reference. 

I feel like I’ve died a thousand times 
hoping with each death I’d grow more wise. 
So shed my skins and let’s begin 
again and again, and when will it end? 

My heavens, they turn against me. 
Well, I’ve got brief stints of peace 
between my purgatories. 
Well, maybe it’s not so bad. 
Maybe the lows I’ve had 
will enrich the highs I’ll have. 

I got a lot for my time. 
I know the world won’t stand still for my desires. 
Each vision is a revision to be revised. 
I thought I knew, but I never know. 
Well, I feel like a volcano ready to explode 
and cover all the old 
with new framework to unfold. 
Well, I’m breaking out of the mold. 
Let lava cool into new land, 
expanding the perimeter to understand. 

You only knew 
the first tier of the facade 
that fortified my fears. 
Well, now that it’s all laid bare 
there’s just no room 
for the gloom and despair. 
Just remember, just remember to forget, 
to forget just what this place meant, 
and watch all our amazement 
become subject to displacement 
and it'll all just fade 
and we’ll forget what this place meant.

Remnants

I change my state of mind 
like I change the station on the radio 
when there’s no good shit on, 
on and on and on. 

Here we go through the rigmarole. 
Oh no, over and over and over again. 
Here we go through the rigmarole. 
Oh no, over and over and over 
and over and over and over. . . 

Again, I lost a friend. 
All extremes burn out in the end. 
Yes, it’s really asking too much 
for you to love me forever and ever 
when we know it’s never enough. 
Well, I don’t-- 
no, we don’t wanna settle,
 ‘cause we won’t ever let it test our mettle. 

Used to fall for that sweet old lie 
that someone would love me all of the time. 
Well, I thought our love would never die 
but I was in denial so I taxidermized it
 and put it on a shelf in a big empty room 
collecting the dust,
 the remnants of me and you 
dissipating in thin air and passing through
 the half-cracked window 
in our big empty  room.
F.O.W.L.

For the ones we love: 
Another fine line crossed 
makes three wrongs right.
 Take two bad days 
make a solid night. 
No, a bottle never set nobody free. 
What’s a liquid lover gonna do for me? 
Wanna make it so good, but it’ll never be. 

For the ones we hate: 
Can’t keep away, 
I try to move on 
but you want me to stay. 
For the ones we’ll fuck but never date: 
I can’t wait. 
If I stay too long, I’ll fade away 
but I just can’t seem to stay away. 
Can’t wait, can’t stay, won’t go, just fade.

-Written and sung by Freddy
Girtha

Girtha, 
will you have this dance with me? 
We’ll rock and sway into the night, 
your frail hands relaxed in mine,
 clasping, just grasping for some life. 

Well, we don’t need to 
pout and let them win 
‘cause we both know 
that we don’t 
belong here to begin-- 
we didn’t come here on a whim. 
We lost control when they took us in. 

Well, I’m here to clear my name, 
and you’re here ‘cause you 
forgot your daughter’s name. 
I got pinned 
for a bag that wasn’t mine, 
and you got turned in 
for your entropic mind. 
Well, despite the odds
 I wouldn’t have it any other way, 
I’ll face those odds 
if it means making your day, 
so lead on, lead away 
and take me to that special place 
of your heyday. 

Girtha, 
will you have this dance with me? 
We’ll rock and sway and dream. 
We’ll waltz all about the room 
and show all these old suckers how we do. 

Well, we don’t need to 
pout and let them win 
‘cause we both know
 that we don’t 
belong here to begin. 
We didn’t come here on a whim. 
Well, here we are.
Eat Shit and Die 

We need to unlearn everything we think we know.  
Self-proclaimed patriots maintain the status quo.  
Red-painted pigs, oblivious to the creed  
of their own country, what obvious hypocrisy. 

Yesterday’s rebels are today’s perfect pawns.  
The sun has long since set and there’s no sign of dawn.  
The world is on fire, end times are on the rise.  
These greedy motherfuckers need to eat shit and die.  

Bootlicking yellowbelly sons of bitches 
oppressing themselves by protecting the rich 
with false, worn narratives  
that scapegoat the poor,  
never once questioning  
how they profit from what you ignore.  

We need to unlearn everything we think we know. 
Illusory certainties shatter, ebb, and flow.  
Some humble humility, some much needed doubt  
to loosen the fixity and throw the fuckers out.  

Bootlicking yellow-belly sons of bitches  
widen the divide with their misled isms:  
“Protect and serve” means abuse and exploit,  
“Liberty for all” the grand illusion of choice.  

Fat in wallet yet bereft in spirit.  
If their god ever sang out, they would not hear it.  
Your god is mute ‘cause your god is hate,  
pray all you want for Satan awaits  
cackling as you pack all your precious shit  
in a sack on your back for your lavish trip  
to heaven or whatever you see fit,  
but really you just fucking die, and that’s it.
You Just Die, and That's It

There is no happy place you go,
no rejoice, only the void,
deafeningly devoid
of any semblance of joy,
indifferent and mute
darkness absolute.
Don't hold your breath.
Nobody needs eternity.
I’m good with death.
Isn’t it enough?
Reality’s fraying seams
dissemble and spread.
Certainty’s the enemy--
the sentiment’s dead.
Swept away with entropy
the ideas in your head.
O to believe in some grand prophecy,
but I wouldn’t hold my breath.
Preorder Your Casket

Preorder your casket,
plan your life thoroughly.
Rewrite your revised
and perfected eulogy.

Well, here are the ills
and here are the cures:
For lethargy, there’s energy,
for apathy, there’s family,
for suffering, we endure.

Here take this, this quick fix
for your anxiety.
Trade your will for this pill.
Bow down to the monotony.

Well, we are not gods
but we can prepare for the rain,
for the wars, for the odds.
We can afford our own funeral,
our own deceit.
Let us free, let us lie.
Give us our papers, our receipt
and let us die.

Take your pick and stick with it.
Don’t you know you can’t have both?
Can’t be free and have security, oh no,
‘cause hardened hearts don’t compromise
and horse-blinded eyes don’t recognize
the space between the far extremes, oh no.

Well, we are not gods
but we can prepare for the rain,
for the wars, for the odds.
We can afford our own funeral,
our own deceit.
Let us free, let us lie.
Give us our papers, our receipt
and let us die.
End Times (Major)

I want to put in a good word 
but the world gets more and more absurd. 
It gets stranger and stranger 
day after day, yeah. 
Florida man is at it again, 
he’s gone and married a gator 
in his meth den. 
Well, it’s alright, I don’t mind, 
do what ya gotta do, 
I guess it takes all kinds. 

Well, I know that sometimes 
nothing feels right, 
but even though it feels like end times 
I wanna be besides you. 

Let’s break this daily dread, 
let’s see what we could do instead 
of whine and complain 
about the same old things. 
If these are truly our last days, 
let’s you and me get out of this place. 
It’ll be alright, we’ll keep our sights high, 
‘cause everything is good and bad 
at the same time. 

But let’s not generalize 
‘cause that’s the reason why 
we got here in the first place. 
I know it’s hard to see straight 
when there’s another tragedy 
every day guaranteed. 
It’s not hard to feel detached and numb, 
caught up in the humdrum. 
No, it’s not hard to feel detached and numb, 
but what have we become?
I know sometimes 
that nothing don’t ever, no, 
don’t ever feel alright. 
But even though it feels like end times, 
I wanna be besides you. 

Well, I know that sometimes 
nothing feels right, 
but even though it feels like end times 
I wanna be besides you.
Sludgement Day

The time has come for everyone 
to come completely undone, 
split limb from limb, 
stripped from what’s written: 
This hell we’re in. 

Freed from the lies, 
from the ties that bind us and blind us 
and try to divide us to snuff out 
the rising and rising of the tide 
of their looming demise. 

Take a deep breath, forget the presets. 
What’s the condition of your conditioning? 
It’s about time we rethink what we enshrine, 
and what we reject, defected for our defects, 
ordained by obsolete precepts. 
Well, we don’t need that, 
we can see that it’s just a ploy to destroy our feedback. 

I don’t buy what they say 
‘cause judgment day happens 
every single fucking day. 

Another city on a hill 
slips into the landfill 
where all suffer in the sludge, 
king, pauper, jester, and judge. 

Give it up, all you got, 
let the prophets of profit rot 
and watch the propped-up puppets drop 
as the blood of the mud clots. 

Choking on the ocean, drowning in air, 
reaping what they’ve sown: 
This hell they’ve prepared. 
Finally, the misery 
shifts to those who need 

an exorcism of egotism-- 
just let it die. 
Take a look, it’s in your book-- 
you’ll pay for your pride. 
If you believe just what you read 
then it’s eye for an eye, 
but if I’m blind then your blind 
then who’s to decide 
which way to go 
when no one knows 
their way through the dark? 
The words they feed us 
are just fodder to breed us 
so we each do our part 
to fan the flames of fear-- 
but we know the names 
for whom Sludgement Day is here. 

I feel a change of tide inside the minds 
of those for whom the farce was designed. 
Some stay a slave to the cave, 
but we embrace the light face to face. 
The world that raised you is fading, 
your teachers all gone, 
common sense uncommon. 
Unlearn the words blurred by the herd. 
Rising from the ruins, a murmur is heard.

Sludgement Day is coming soon. 
The rising tide in full bloom. 
Never-ending impending doom. 
Sludgement Day will come for you.
Vultures Eating Vultures 

He was old and mean 
blood dripping from his beak— 
whenever I remember him 
I can hear him speak. 

He says, “Let go. Lie down. 
You won’t hear a sound 
next time I come around.” 

He dug his talons deep 
into the deceased 
rendering its tendons 
undoing his own kind’s seams. 
Then the whole pack 
dug in their masks 
to their brother or their mother 
or whoever was fixed for the feast. 

“Lie down. Let go.” 
Whenever I see him 
I swear I see someone I know. 

When I die, 
would you mind 
picking up the scraps 
off my spine and back? 
I’ll have had a body to live through 
and now it’s my gift to you 
and I’ll course through your heart 
a pulse that knows not time. 

There is no time— 
when your tomb is the womb 
and the womb is your food; 
you’re imbued through and through
 with a lust to renew 
with a thirst to consume 
the waste of the wasted 
and erase death 
from the face of the pavement. 

I’m just a bloody mess— 
take this burden off my chest: 
skin and veins, nerves and tissues; 
come undone these fibrous sinews 
lay to rest these incessant issues 
save me from such common misuse. 
You’ve got it right— 
there’ll be no decay tonight: 
the old are dead and the young are fed, 
ancestors reunite. 

When I die, 
would you mind 
picking up the scraps 
off my spineless back? 
I’ll have had a body to live through 
and now it’s my gift to you. 

“Let go. Lie down.” 
Someday we’ll meet again 
but I won’t know how. 

I remember the first time I saw you 
rummaging around in my yard— 
you were all huddled round 
the freshly discarded carcass 
of a soul just departed 
and flown off to who knows where— 
you don’t care, 
just as long as there’s somewhere 
to drag it off to and clear it out 
and feed those awful, greedy mouths. . . 
but in a dream I saw the scene in reverse: 
it was obscene how serene you all conversed 
like surgeons hovering above your patient 
like masked craftsmen so diligent 
gently piecing each rib to each knob 
beaks, like tweezers, ease in to do the job 
finishing the frame of the ship 
feeding her meat as if she were your chick 
and tucking her in with a nice, warm pelt. 
It was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen, 
thought my heart would melt. 

You hoist the mast now that death is past 
and nudge your fledgling on to set sail. 
You watch your daughter rise 
as you hiss your goodbyes 
and cry your mo(u)rning wails 
as you prepare for her retreat 
for summer is coming 
and the sun is setting in the east.

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For more of James’s writing, check out: jameskwapisz.com

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