The Blood Brothers Album

orange, and yellow and black flesh trees bloom fire, fire, fire.
i'm trapped inside this motel 6 on fire, fire, fire.
oh, those young fists clenched in the air make a million millionaires.
set fire to the ships on fire.
set fire to the hips on fire.
constellations strung up like barbed wire wire wire.
i'm drinking cement like it's going out of style, style, style.
those cold hooks, cemetary claws raking at the infant's jaws.
set fire to the horse on fire.
set fire to the dress on fire.
set fire to the stage on fire.
set fire to the stars on fire.
i'm tied to a seagull's back - yeah, fire, fire, fire.
and all those black-haired bandits try to lure me down
with their songs and choir, choir, choir.
i'd rather shoot up a syringe filled with fire, fire, fire
than go to bed with sounds so vacant and tired, tired, tired.
what's the sound of a cashing check?.
what's the sound of a gaf reflex?.
like speakers crushed beneath an empty tank
blowing the ugly off an airbrushed face.
set fire to the drums on fire.
set fire to the lions on fire.
set fire to the house on fire.
set fire to the face on fire.

we're the boys jailed in a horse's skull.
we nailed our ears to a feral glittery drone.
the only things that make our blood feel like blood
are stealing cars and watching lightning bolts fuck.
don't look away, every song's the same,
just like every day's the same in this sanitized exploding airplane.
i got shot in the face it's all on videotape.
so c'mon, watch the blood, it's pouring commercial-free.
we're the girls chewing on styrofoam, pulling out wigs under a monochrome glow.
the only line that's talking is into bed
is the freeway's static hiss drilling holes in our heads.
don't look away form the clouds leaking rust.
the kingdom of heaven reeks of burning witches and dust.
i got shot in the face it's all on videotape.
so c'mon, watch the blood, it's pouring commercial-free.
i got shot in the face it's all on videotape.
seven items dripped out the hole in my head:
one big war and one color red;
one vulgar leg and one designer tree;
two stallions and a pound of confetti.
oh, salvation!
hollow lightning, so skeletal...
shipwrecked freeways!
concrete ribcage, so boring...
we ride skeletal lightning, vacant as a womb thats been miscarried

oh, team machine!
i'm a pound of flesh in a drum machine's dream.
we watch crabs and lobsters eat a dead cops throat
and stuff our mouths with gutted stereos.
oh, team machine!
every single piano i've ever met in my life
never sounded as good as melted casio keys
burning in a sea that sings out in 3-D.
oh, that laser rain kept me up all night again
scratching at your window like a bright colored beast,
cursing at the dawn like an adulterous priest.
shake your hands like they're full of feathers.
shake your wings like they're laced with sound.
shake your skin like a scrambled tv.
gnash your teeth like a flamingo swarm.
i think my night unplugged its life.
digital sunrise!
digital sunset!
oh, team machine!
the world's got no end and it's got no beginning.
now i'm coughing up maracas and tambourines,
looking over cliffs of eternity.
shake your hands like they're full of disaster.
shake your wings like they're painted with tar.
shake your skin like it's sewn with insects.
gnash your teeth like an exploding car.
and if your night unplugs its life blame it on the laser rain.
and if your life unplugs its eyes blame it on the laser rain.
because you can't blame the sun, it's been bought and sold to a day that's never dawning.
and you can't blame the sky, it collapsed twelve times; now it's buried in a digital coffin.
so climb out your windowsill as the drum machines laugh to themselves.

"Alice, where's your tongue?"
she said, "look in the encyclopedia's ceaseless chatter."
"Alice, where's your hair?"
she said, "look in the sharp of a well-worn butterfly knife."
"Alice, where's your teeth?"
she said, "look at the piano. they're dangling from every single chord."
"Alice, where's your lips?"
"look in the empires roaring; the tyrants getting so loud and boring."
"Alice, where's your man?"
"look in this black eye written like the o in the word goodbye."
"Alice, where's your house?"
"it's built on the hush of your favorite record's screeching halt."
"Alice, where's your clothes?"
"they'll be sweet sheets around your eyes when street boars eat you alive!."
"Alice, where's your swans?"
"flying in hotel rooms stealing stereos."
mister the sky's a contortionist.
the streets are skipping records blaring hiss.
camouflage, camouflage.
the city's draped in camouflage.
the taxis are jaguars throwing fits.
subways are subterranean bullets.
camouflage, camouflage.
the city's draped in camouflage.
can't you see the sidewalks are just snakes peeling off last year's skin?
can't you find your own face shining in the sky's false reflection?
where's your voice?
where's your dress?
where's your bones?
draped in camouflage.
where's your beach?
where's your sky?
where's your clouds?
draped in camouflage.
and she says give me one good reason not to empty the heart of all it's zeros and ones,
not to smash that telecaster before it births a thousand useless slums.
love bit you in the throat while you were staring at the sea.
all the girls in Montreal are smashing skateboards in the street.
it's 4am and she's at your door with a suitcase, in a nightgown.
we slip through mansions with fences full-grown.
we slip through streetlights in crooked rows.
i saw the sky split in two: one half jealous and one half cruel.
i felt my chest cave in under a pile of synthetic grins.
the fields are day-glo under sobbing rainbows dragged through filthy thoughts,
false applause and camouflage.
i couldn't see the solar system,
it was camouflaged as a tape loop repeating.
i couldn't see the glorious meadow,
it was camouflaged as a smashes stain glass window.
i couldn't see the love and affection,
it was camouflaged as a jungle of erections.
i couldn't see the skeletal lightning,
it was camouflaged as a young machete.

this telepathic hangover gnaws the nipples off my neck.
well, when you suck off those machine guns, mister, what do you expect?
i crawled through 60,000 yards of carnival graveyards,
witches with obscene riches chasing my mirage.
i'm the unicorn with tar teeth chewing spandex nightmares.
my spine's a limousine that drives all night but never goes anywhere.
if i sang instead of screamed when you crushed me with your corvette
would you sell your jet for a microphone and record the opera of deathbeds?
stare into the gruesome lights all night and never see a fucking thing.
count weddings on our fingertips and wonder why our love's so cheap.
vegas, you're my dream unicorn.
summer dress, so apocalyptic.
in glossy treetops teens clap while they kiss.
in neon pastures pin-ups hook to your chest.
out on the streets at night the money's well spent.
and pissed-off babies turn to pissed-off children.

i've fallen face first into a painting of hallucinogenic sunset.
i'm the boy on the beach with the guitar,
all the shark's beretta's: click-click, click-click, click-click, click.
we're the band on the stage at the wedding by the sea with frozen tidal waves.
alright, she's a concubine turned trophy wife, he's a high profile CEO.
all the seagulls mutter, "what'cha doing with your life?"
and vomit laugh tracks on your lead solos.
brittle, brittle moon!
we're grieving for you.
brittle, brittle moon held together with glue.
and we sing, "everybody's waiting for you to drop!"
then we fall face first into another painting...
i've fallen face first into a painting of hallucinogenic seascape.
i'm the boy in the sharkskin tuxedo.
all my fans are screaming, "yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah!!"
my agent told me i should chew off my own face.
i have no taste and anything could help.
sing it again, "three cheers for opportunity!"
this is the year of speedboats, summer homes.
still the seagulls mutter, "what'cha doing with your life?"
and vomit laugh tracks on your career goals.

you're walking through the forests where they feed the trees broken glass.
john lennon and the rolling stones crooning in plastic bags.
spit shine your black luck now, baby.
you turn on the radio, the speakers spit tangled talk.
everything is war and who's fucked their way to the top.
but they'll eat black clouds we all eat black clouds.
you're working on a cruise serving caviar to the cruel.
they repossessed your heart; you're making payments on your face, too.
spit shine your black clouds now, baby.
and what if your religion turns out to be a cruel joke, and you're fucked beyond all hope?
gonna spit shine your black clouds now, baby.
first you stayed in bed all day and walked around all night.
then you threw your phone away and slept beneath the freeway underpass.
your mother slit her throat after your father's heart attack.
and you've got two little sisters still in school.
what'cha gonna do? what'cha gonna do?
just sit and watch the ships loading their freight
and pale pelicans feeding their young and grasp at the barbarically charming sun.
out on the weekend talked your way out of a first date.
said your uncle was famous, by then it was too late.
spit shine your black luck now, baby.
fall asleep to the tv-the cops are talking tough
to the cameras in the backseat, to the audience at home.
but they'll eat black clouds we all eat black clouds.
once you knew a girl with skin like a sapphire sun.
took you back to her apartment, told you everything you did wrong.
spit shine your black luck.
spit shine your black luck.
the sky's so desolate like flesh on a skull-shaped balloon.
you sit in bed writing love letters to yourself.
no black ink on the black paper, bay.
stare at the ceiling, fall into dreamless sleep.
day climbs your chimney, taps you on the shoulder blade,
"spit shine your black clouds now, baby."
all your best friends grow up to be successful actresses.
all your bitter enemies died of liver failure in kent, washington trailers.
all your brothers made babies until their brains turned brown.
the world's lounging longways on an unbridled black cloud.

let's sling our rain slicks over February's fantastic antlers
sprouting from the foreheads of world famous romancers.
the winter's looming like a bloodthirsty bird of prey.
and i guarantee by spring we'll either be world famous or goddamned dead.
guitar one fastens languid years to busty bones like dust and skin on a dull antique moon.
guitar two's touch keeps ruining lovers for other lovers
like jokers concealed in trick decks in our laps.
there's a train tumbling down torn paper tracks while weeds blossom from heartbeats that lack.
guitar three's dancing even though her song stopped playing ages and ages ago.
she's at an empty dance club suspended in the middle of a rambling sentence.
guitar four says, "if you still believe in the grace of man,
let me introduce you to greedy greedy hands."
let's sling our rain slicks over every single second
to the rapture dripping from clocks ticking all our misadventures.
the winter left town with some seventeen-year-old waitress.
and spring's laying in a pile of all the moments of our misadventures.

here comes the man with concussions in his pocket.
here comes the man with a laser-guided rocket.
here comes the man with a fistful of pills so you can kill with no remorse,
with no recourse, dance on your conscience until it's a corpse.
war never ends.
war never begins.
hoist up the hag of destitution!
his mouth's an empty room where wild woes wander.
young machetes in lingerie charm us all into a frenzy.
his mouth's an empty hole full of quadriplegics.
here comes the man.
so you charge into battle, muscles rippling, tanks tingling.
before you fire a shot a white flash feels up your flesh
and cloaks you in a robe of blood, maydays you in a ship of mud.
war never ends.
war never begins.
hoist up the hag of destitution!
his mouth's an empty room where wild woes sleep sow.
young machetes in lingerie charm us all into a frenzy.
his mouth's an empty hole full of quadriplegics.
they left you for dead in the desert haunted with the ghosts of prostitutes.
they want you!
they want you!
dress my corpse up in a low-cut dress.
drizzle lipstick on my charred french kiss.
dip my severed jaw in cheap cologne, push-up bras dangling from snapped elbows.
but death's just death no matter how you dress it up.

we live in a glamorous mansion with napalm in the walls.
waterfalls fall like intestines from flying gutted gulls.
we live in a glamorous mansion with fast ghosts in the walls.
my bedroom window looks out on crucified orange groves.
frail fingers in our five-course food.
biblican rains when the midnight maids strip nude.
when the fire's chewing up your walls where you gonna go?
nooses hung from the starts tell me yes or no.
nausea shreds your head.
would you rather be homeless or dead?
when your floor's foaming at the mouth where you gonna run?
french windows passing out drinking all night long?
will you look back?
will you hesitate to leave all your possessions behind?
will you look back?
or are you going to sink with the ship and say everything's alright?
are you gonna jump, jump, jump out the window or burn, burn, burn with the furniture?

those chariots, racing your run, autographing flooded slums.
those chariots, they never sleep, chased you down a lilac's lung.
rat rider!
rat rider!
rat tails just sprout from your scalp.
those chariots, they're closing in, made your wife from diesel fumes.
those chariots with megaphones threw a bachelor party for you.
rat rider!
rat rider!
soaked fur just dyes our dirty talk.
every fang is polished gag-colored green like a sun so sick it only shines when it sinks.
your mother's tethered to the tv set.
your father's doing push-ups in the driveway again.
we want a coupon for a discount dream.
we want a forest just like a museum where the leaves are priceless antiques,
memorabilia from a century kidnapped by grief.
rat rider!
c'mon, rat rider!
those chariots stamp their ID on disappointment's sobbing chords.
those chariots trampled new filth on fantasies you can't afford.
rat rider!
rat rider!
cold claws just ransacked your pockets.

twilight's million battered lips sleep in a house of fractured smiles.
young love's clumsy fingertips are gonna find out for themselves.
the birds keep on singing from the tops of trees,
but the song's out of tune that drips from the breeze.
there's a razor in the garden waiting for a delicate head.
look out!
look out!
for diamonds sparkling where the trap doors swing into the bottom
of a cold misery full of insults to add to your collection,
parking lots dangling from your diction, daydreams bobbing in a shattered sea.
look out!
look out!
for sirens dancing where the nooses swing from gutted branches
of your fantasies full of insults falling from your ceiling,
motels where you're fucking without feeling, daydreams bobbing in a shattered sea.
fake leaves shake like deceit on your tongue.
desperate mothers devoured by young.
hold on to love you learned to despise like an ocean choking on its own tide.
there's a razor in the garden waiting to cut through your seams.
look out!
look out!
the dull years drag the best days of your life through asphalt
and glass while summer's favorite fathers birthing next year's deadbeat dads.
let's tack up another eviction note to matrimony's throbbing throat
stuffed with songs from a synthetic past,
silver clouds and artifacts full of insults to add to your collection,
parking lots dangling from your diction, daydreams bobbing in a shattered sea.

those decadent war swans, with faces half drawn,
slinging blood soaked carols at the slave ship sun.
huge gold ak-47!
huge gold ak-47!
c'mon, its 4am kick down the gate and spray your ammo like champagne.
tie up your waterfalls and throw them in the trunk!
in pitch-black basements, starve your summer suns.
toast another day of domination.
toast another day of demolition.
100 million dollar sound systems squeal your name's pouding rhythms.
huge gold ak-47!
huge gold ak-47!
you're alone, handcuffed to a picked-clean bone, and your skull echoes...
we'll take what the fuck we want!
pluck your landscapes piece by piece.
we'll take what the fuck we want!
songs of your youth beat by beat.
we'll take what the fuck we want!
wipe the color from your scenery.
we'll take what the fuck we want!
suck your seasons indefinitely.
oh, there's a field inside your face with breezes sweet as chardonnay,
violins dangling from willow branches.
but the soldiers stripped it from your skin, cracked its ribs in the kitchen,
dressed it in drag and pissed on every inch.
we march like insects built of wood and wires blowing out cities like birthday candles

brass boots, where has your gaunt gown gone?
whose streets have you walked on?
who did you meet?
what did they say?
is the world just a foxhole you watch from?
brass boots saw the war we're winning dramatized on leering tv screens,
brittle moons breaking, giant swans pecking at all the free flesh.
c'mon, c'mon, let's run to the cracked open sun.
c'mon, c'mon, lets run to the ten-story gun.
brass boots saw those trench-eyed preteens spraypainting fangs onto sanitized dreams;
rich, rich, blackbirds falling asleep in broken bottle hot tubs.
brass boots saw everybody laughing, saw everybody sleeping;
and death's grin grown men cleaving million dollar debts from the bank of their own skin.
c'mon, c'mon, lets run to the cracked open sun.
c'mon, c'mon, lets run.
the birds are burning down.

the giant swan's got ghosts in his eyes.
his guts are stuffed with polaroids, and they're all humiliating.
and when the wine's drunk and the wild cabaret has sung it's last voice,
and you're sitting all alone in the 4am darkness of a pitch-black theater,
he explodes like fireworks on the stage with gold smoke.
sing, your voice just wont stop blooming.
he wrote a play and you're the protagonist.
all the girls you wish you'd fucked make a guest appearance.
oh, and you just won't believe the ending.
fly me home, giant swan!
the giant swan's got a pixelated beak.
his eyes are twin mushroom clouds,
his feathers are unsuspecting cities,
and his breasts are hollow apartments with the highest quality furnishings.
and you can watch tv until you die there, deflated skin draped over luxury chairs.
sing, your voice just won't stop blooming.
if your heart's a diamond, buddy, what's the price?
if your heart's a diamond what's the fucking price?
your mouth is cheap and your hair is shoddy.
so sit and watch the ballerinas kick and spin.
then strip down to your vulgar skeleton.
you'd better take one more drink of captain morgan's rum.
oh, it's gonna sting like a raw sunrise when they black swan's gone.
back at the resort, the curtains closed, you haven't left the room for two solid weeks.
with a pound of cocaine under the bed where the call girls perform their services.
and you have to leave CNN on so you don't think about her newborn son
who entered this town from the crotch you're renting out.
"who's at the door? what the fuck!
who's at the door? what the fuck!
who's at the door? what the fuck!"
your heart is sweating; your hands are turning black.
your shadow breaks in wearing a ski mask.
is that a machete at your throat?
"give me all your money! give me all the dope!"
and the sun's like a painting of your whole life.
you scratch at the canvas, but you can't get inside.
and the sun's like a painting of your whole life.
you scratch at the canvas, but you can't get inside.
your family is gurgling grief.
you think you're fast asleep.
is that the curtain closing?
giant swan, take me to the river.
is that my flesh corroding?
giant swan, take me to the river.
all the things you wish you said are buried with your x'd out head.
all your ulterior motives...
giant swan, take me to the river.