I've known you by many names
after a while it's all the same
I won't play your petty games
You said that you had "feelings"
we'd talk about our dreams
nothing was as it seemed
My mind, you've twisted up inside
my heart, you can't break apart
I'm now stone inside
for you I won't make time
now that things fell apart
Things seemed so sincere
when I could hold you near
those times were few and far between
More trouble than it's worth
I've broken from the curse
and I don't care if it sounds mean
Your name now is poison to me
can't believe I was ever so blind
no more looking for a key
opened wide to expose my mind
my memories now lie naked and cold
on solitude I've been sold
I'm in love with a machine if you
know what I mean
a vending machine with a shiny chrome gleam
dispensing love for a dollar a bottle
I can't come up with a word to rhyme with bottle
it'll take any bill, no matter how worn,
dirty, crumpled, or even torn
I'd like to hug it, but my arms won't fit around
maybe if it lost a few pounds...
It's my dream machine,
my dream machine,
pop, water, or juice,
it's totally up to youse
the "man" keeps it clean,
and it's never mean,
it's my dream machine...
I've kissed it, but I got a shock,
maybe if I could be more like Mr. Spock
I fear these emotions might scare the machine away
that would be a truly sad day
until then, I'll keep a special place in my heart
for the vending machine from Heaven, better than any Kwik-E-Mart
it's my dream machine,
my dream machine,
sorry, no coffee
but it does have tea,
so you can have your caffeine
isn't that keen?
it's my dream machine...
I swear it must be magic, little faires or elves,
inside that big box, pulling bottles off the shelves
dropping them right down the chute
and it'll never fall out onto your boot
M is for the Magic it brings me every day
If I were a teacher, I'd give it an A
C is for the cool crisp trickle down my throat
H, for the hallucinations, maybe I should cut back on the
caffeine a little...
I, for the invisible elves inside it's shell
N, I doubt it's kosher, but it's so heavenly I'll Never go to
heck,
E for the excellent, extraordinary,
educational, effortless, eminant emmisary of Pepsico Worldwide,
it's my dream maaaaaaaaaaachiiiiiiiiiine!
Yeah!
I heard God last night
in between the notes of a Ricky Martin song
He gave me some sound advice
sounding more like a beer commercial
than the Creator
He spoke with a Canadian accent
and I became worried
thinking perhaps Ricky Martin had accquired brain damage
and forgot his Latino speech
or maybe it was one of his session musicians
I knew a bass player with a mild God complex
other musicians tend to think it's just ego
but the constant remarks of
"musical crucifixion"
should have been a give-away
or maybe this is just how all Canadians think
imagine...
a whole country of Josephs, Marys, and
Jesuses
(or Jesii?)
all dancing the mambo
Judas is serving chips and salsa at the bar
Thursday night is Stigmata Night
show your stigmata at the door and get in free
is moshing allowed in Heaven?
kids don't mosh anymore
shows nowadays are a bunch of over-stimulated teenagers
looking to hurt someone
that's not moshing
not like it was ten years ago
a pile of kids running into each other
crowd-surfing
stage-diving
but times have changed
DRI would be one of the regular bands in Heaven's clubs
their music was always good for innocent
mosh fun
or maybe Heaven has it's own thrash bands
Hell, of course, would exclusively feature
Michael Bolton and Celine Dion
in nightly performances
Ricky tells me that I should be
livin' la vida loca
then God comes on and says
"my son, have I told you aboot salvation?"
and I say, "yes, Sir, you have"
"you shouldn't be listenin' to this crahp, eh?" he
replies
"this guy is a hoser, eh?"
and I realize that God sounds remarkably like
Bob and Doug McKenzie
"take off, eh?"
then he's gone, and Ricky is shouting the chorus again
I sit
chest bare to the air in the room
in disarray
I rub finger and thumb together
gliding over a thin crimson sheen
I am blood
pulsing from an open wound
screaming through your veins
speaking with clots and scars
I seep into the cracks in your brain
dripping through your eyes as
the salt in your tears
squeezed through the pores in your skin
I am the roar of thunder in your ears
as my heart forces me under your skin
I am the tear, I am the kill
I am the fear draining your will
black
sticky
death
I am blood
A flash of something dark
streaks past me in the night
and leaves no trace or mark
along my line of sight
The gods above the sky
watch my lonely trek
and I cannot stop to cry
nor can I turn back
There is no star to guide
and I bear my own cross
no place left to hide
from the pain of my loss
No one here to share
to comfort or console
the darkness now I wear
like a blanket on my soul
No way to retrace
or take back what has gone
I just maintain my pace
keeping time with this inner song
And slowly, as I walk
the sun breaks into view
released is the lock
holding the key is you
Each of us has a path
seperate and alone
My friend, you helped support
but the strength was my own.