What Is The Sound of a Billion Knees Jerking?

phreakin’ the phone 1972

 

Lyrical cycle by R.U. Sirius with a few actual songs and videos attached

Hey Hey We’re The Punkees (with apologies to The Monkees)

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by 4Chan
Dragging themselves to the living room couch at dawn in search of an angry tweet

With your knickers in a twist
Or your panties in a bunch
William Burroughs shot his wife
Then wrote The Naked Lunch
With your panties in the closet
And your knickers in a whirl
Coming all undone cause
Dr. Who is now a girl

With your panties in a bunch
Or your knickers in a twist
I think you’re gonna punch me
As I eat my naked lunchee
Pan African mixed cuisine
Cooked up by a honky queen
Please fill out your requisition
For the latest inquisition

Hey hey we’re the punkies
People say we’re not The Ramones
We’re the 4th generation
Some say we’re conformist drones
We’re just trying to be friendly
Come and watch us tweet all day
We’re the young generation
You better watch what you say

What I Learned

A tantric master is telling me how to live
Release no jism – Just find your rhythm

A hindu guru is telling me how to die
Try not to try – It’s another high

A politician is telling me where to stand
Take no prisoners – Fuck the pensioners

A porn star Barbie is sending me her link
She isn’t there – But I don’t care

A jolly nerd is telling me what to do
Upload my brain – You’ll feel no pain

A country singer is telling me where it’s at
Let love come to you – then hit it back

I Politician

recorded by Party Dogs (1982)

Listen to I Politician

I’ve got a little think tank
I call it home
I ain’t too highly paid though
Just flesh and bone
I’ll put a little thingie out
On video cassette
And hope the Minister of Propaganda
Don’t get too upset

Still it all comes though
The United Matrix of America
Pagan rhythms out of Africa
Pagan shipments out of Kathmandu
From the Aztecs to the Ming
Genetic carnival on wings

We’ve got a little freak show
We call it “The Hunchback Squeaks”
And then I politician
I get on up and I speaks
“I got a lotta rage” he cries
“And lots of irony”
You’re baboons in a cage” he lies
“I’m going to set you free”

Still it all comes though
The United Matrix of America
Pagan rhythms out of Africa
Pagan shipments out of Kathmandu
From the Aztecs to the Ming
Genetic carnival on wings

Gotta get back to L.A. now
Got a media jones
Talking with the network boys
and taking out more loans
I get 3 minutes on NBC
Attack the ruling class
I’ve got 4 friends at NASA now
If I have to move my ass

Still it all comes though
The United Matrix of America
Pagan rhythms out of Africa
Pagan shipments out of Kathmandu
From the Aztecs to the Ming
Genetic carnival on wings

Avant God

I want an avant god
Loving perversity
Unlimited diversity

Optimized for my iPod
Totally portable
Sometimes snortable

Gendered or not
Maybe subject to rot
Why not?

The avant god is as real
As the knees on which they kneel
Try to keep it on an even keel
The kind of god you have to steal

The avant god is false
The kind of god you must report
The kind of god that misses court
The kind of god you know you want

I want an avant god
Loving perversity
Unlimited diversity

Speed and Weed

recorded by R.U. Sirius & Phriendz

watch video of Speed and Weed

How I wish I could still do speed and weed
Paranoid listening to Let it Bleed
Long letters to J.G. Ballard and Chuck Manson
Kidnapped my shadow and held it for ransom

How I wish I could still do speed and weed
Wide awake watching the cops retreat
Twin Peaks repeats with a bunch of crazy chicks
Midnight the Castro for some real alt dot kicks

How I wish I could still do speed and weed
Be so sharp when I have to go on TV
Head back home kick it with some china white
Growing older man — it just ain’t right

How I wish I could still do speed and weed
Growing older man — it just ain’t right

Surfin’ Weatherman (w. apologies to the Beach Boys, The Rivieras and Bob Dylan)

You don’t need a weatherman to know we’re toast
Shit’s getting Biblical from coast to coast
I’m moving’ to Ohio where the chicks are groovy
Surfin’ with Mike Love we’re gonna make it a movie

And they’ll be surfing in Boston
And in the ruins of Pompei
Deep in the deserts of Kashmir
L.A. has gone cra-cra
They’ll all be grabbing their children
And all their property too
Tell everybody they’re surfing
And everything is cool

You don’t need a weatherman to know we’re toast
Everybodys freakin’ from coast to coast
Going’ back to California where the chicks are pissed
They’ll kneel before my virtue when I raise my fist

And they’ll be shooting deniers
And oil CEOs
And all Republican Senators
And every Fox News host
They’ll all be grabbing their children
And all their property too
Tell everybody they’re surfing
And everything is cool

Be My Valerie Solanas

by Creosote Cowboy

Listen to Be My Valerie Solanas 

Offer her a lollipop
Offer her some gum
Offer her most anything
Don’t offer her my gun
Offer her de Beauvoir
Or offer her de Sade
Keep your shit together man
Fall to your knees and pray

If you’ll be my Valerie Solanas
I will be your Robespierre
Nothing can come between us
‘cept that thing underneath your hair
We have so much in common
Let’s get off on a tear
Bring it down Kill the clowns
We’re such a lovely pair

Offer her a role in porn
Offer her revolt
Offer her most anything
Offer her your scorn
Offer her some Tribe 8
Or offer her Genet
Keep your shit together man
Fall to your knees and pray

If you’ll be my Valerie Solanas
I will be your Robespierre
Nothing can come between us
‘cept that thing underneath your hair
We have so much in common
Let’s get off on a tear
Bring it down Kill the clowns
We’re such a lovely pair

I Wanna Be Your Radio

recorded by MONDO Vanilli (1992, partly written in 1980)

Listen to I Wanna Be Your Radio

I wanna steal your radio
Sacrifice your fingers to an electric fence
I torture you in future tense staccato
And come back home and rest in bed all day

I’ve got techniques for ecstasy
Keeping them under the hat stand
Let’s whip ’em out
And see if anything fits on your head

I wanna steal your radio
Capture you on a hard disc drive
Save you and make a million copies
Give one to each of my friends

I inverted the very color of being
But you — you weren’t there

I wanna be your radio
Sire wire fire and inspire you (cyber cyber)
Flick the switch that renders you insane
Come back home and rest in bed all day (cyber cyber)

I wanted to be Salvador Dali
I wanted to be dead and unreasonable
Let’s grieve in concentric circles
To make the night release your brain

I wanna be your radio
Now I wanna be your radio

INsufficiently
CELebrated

Vectors for viral infection
All fighting at the intersection
The excluded occluded white flight
The transitive under-the-knife fight

The Dj is staying up all night
The Brit is here shouting Crikey
Look what’s coming down the pike
Looks a bit like a 4th Reich

European Union Uber Alles
Versus the white mans angry phallus
Prez declares war from Caesar’s Palace
Drink false data from his magical chalice

I’m INsufficiently CELebrated
I look bloody old but I’m underrated
The simple girl you loved has gone complicated
I’m sending mixed signals and I’m way frustrated
yeah

The elegant art thief takes his time
The critic believes he’s a friend of mine
A place to unwind while under duress
Some dude who told me he wasn’t impressed
Right, I live just to impress you man
I’m only doing something I can
Look in the mirror if you’re so inclined
Mister you ain’t no friend of mine

I’m INsufficiently CELebrated
I look bloody old but I’m underrated
The simple girl you loved has gone complicated
I’m sending mixed signals and I’m way frustrated
Yeah

Seeking the goal that’s unattainable
Our lips are sealed and unnamable
The girl who was named after the madness
Was waiting ‘til everyone dull had vanished
But they lingered around and it was absurd
Biding their time while minting new words
Everything passionate started to freeze
Decided to bring the whole world to its knees

She’s INsufficiently CELebrated
She look bloody young but she’s underrated
The simple girl you loved has gone complicated
She’s sending mixed signals and she’s way frustrated
Yeah

Punters Fighting Punters (with apologies to Harry Nilsson)

Punters fighting punters
Owners sailing yachts
You can jump into the fire
You can suck a million cocks
You can smash a million statues
You can run and jump and spit
You can chant a billion slogan
And it won’t amount to shit

We can jump into the fakir
We can make each other horny
We can scream inside a man cave
We can try to make the kids rave
You can beat another wage slave
You can beat another wage slave
You can beat another wage slave
But you’ll never be free whoa whoa

 

Punching A Nazi

Creosote Cowboy Video by Daddy Friday

Watch Punching A Nazi

Killing an arab
Punching a nazi
Albert Camus won’t
Bring back the Stasi
Kissing a baby
Pinching a lady
Oh Mr. Mansplain
You so crazy

Banning an Arab
Punching a nazi
Even Ayn Rand was
Never this bossy
Dating a Barbie
Making a killing
Those were the days
Oh wasn’t it thrilling

Killing an arab
Punching a Nazi

Brag

I walk 47 miles of barbed wire
I drink ayahuasca just to watch the news
I drank Jagger & Richards under the table
And late at night I dress like Betty Grable

Who do you want me to be?
Who do you want me to be?
Who do you want me to be?
I’m not too blind to see

My voodoo remote gets all 12 channels
I stuck with leather when Seattle did flannel
My boy named Sue is scary to you
And if you cry I’ll be flingin’ poo

Who do you want me to be?
Who do you want me to be?
Who do you want me to be?
I’m not too blind to see

I eat the living dead for fun
I fucked Ted Nugent with his own gun
I midnight rambled with Joseph Campbell
His hero trip was a croc of shit

Who do you want me to be?
Who do you want me to be?
Who do you want me to be?
I’m not too blind to see

Laughing Transhumanist Politician

I just wanted to write songs
Fight pigs
And right wrongs
But I wound up paying bills
Taking pills
And chasing girls

I got technotopia by the balls
I give the finger when nature calls
I turned to Santa said pass ‘em out
He said look son there’s been a drought
But if I tour and promise heaven
Here on earth next 9/11
They’ll form in lines hither and yon
And they’ll be dead before I’m gone

I just wanted to drop out
Stay cool
Fuck around
But now I work in a store
Getting bored
And mopping floors

I got technotopia by the balls
I give the finger when nature calls
I turned to Zoltan said you’ll have to do
He said I’ll play this song with you
But if I write memetic bombs
Just until the singularity comes
They’ll form in lines hither and yon
And they’ll be dead before I’m gone.

Two Truthers and a Birther Walked Into A Bar

Two truthers and a birther walked into a bar
The truthers had some ritalin — the birther had a car
They made a pact right then and there
To tell the folks who didn’t care
About the bad things being done
And get some guns and have some fun

Scrambled codes make scrambled minds
Strategic lies make paranoids
Anemic guys make angry blogs
Unhappy girls want perfect bods

The truthers split to berkeley & hung out in a tree
The birther went to Memphis — The Grand Opry
They planned to meet halfway between
And make the sheeple share their dream
By dropping acid in the tea
Then pirating every Tee Vee

Scrambled codes make scrambled minds
Strategic lies make paranoids
Anemic guys make angry blogs
Unhappy girls want perfect bods

The birther trained the truthers in marksmanship and fight
The truthers showed the birther how to hack into a bank
But things went south when Truther One
Shared all their plans with Neil Young
Who wrote a song then turned them in
While slipping each a Mickey Finn

Scrambled codes make scrambled minds
Strategic lies make paranoids
Anemic guys make angry blogs
Unhappy girls want perfect bods

The truthers woke up sadly in a stuporous haze
They swore to all in court it had just been a phase
The birther returned to the south
Big hero by word of mouth
Did a day maybe two in jail
Ex-Governor Perry paid his bail

Scrambled codes make scrambled minds
Strategic lies make paranoids
Anemic guys make angry blogs
Unhappy girls want perfect bods

The Chicks Who Say Namaste

Don’t you wanna get nastay
With the chicks who say Namaste
Don’t you wanna get frantic
While telling them you’re like so way tantric
Don’t you want a dakini
Lookin’ sweet in a string bikini
Don’t you wanna get nastay
With the chicks who say Namaste

They’re wall to wall in Hawaii or at the mall
Eating kale – and dressing chic for the fall
It sure beats bowling or waiting for Godot
It might be wisdom — who the fuck knows?

Don’t you wanna get nastay
With the chicks who say Namaste
Don’t you feel a bit romantic
While telling them you’re like so way tantric
Don’t you want a dakini
Lookin’ sweet in a string bikini
Don’t you wanna get nastay
With the chicks who say Namaste

All the ladies say “Namaste”
Namaste!
All the boys say “Posters of Che”
Posters of Che!
If you’re transitioning just say “Oy vey”
Oy Vey!
And in your heart of hearts say “Go the fuck away”
Go the fuck away
And in your heart of hearts
Say go the fuck away

I’m not a cliche
I’m not a cliche
I’m not a cliché

Take A Walk On The Whine Side

Come on young people now
Obey your mother
And all bow down
To the infallible other

Afraid to say anything that won’t contain everything
I sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep
Fearing the absence of the reaper
I recall the midnight creeper
In an unrelenting loop
Death would be so sweet
While your eternity’s precise and neat
My nightmare just repeat repeats

A tomb within a womb
All my prison things are stuck inside
While the battlers cry of genocide
They’re stuck inside
My wildest pride has gone crafty
But in my tomb the thoughts get nasty

All hopes to be abandoned
But still there’s apricots and fandom
And joys squeezed out at random
Though I’m stuck inside
As nights arrive and disappear
There’s comfort mixed with mumbled fear

And while I sit suspended
The people who I friended
Singin’ hey ho Geronimo
Take a walk on the whine side
And while an era ended
And shriveled thoughts descended
They said they were offended
Took a walk on the whine side

Sandra came from Georgia
Took a class on gender
Went off on a bender
Banged with her professor
You can guess what came next
A brief respite of play and sext
She ratted to the college dean
And then it was a legal scene

And while I sit suspended
The people who I friended
All singin’ hey ho Gerononimo
Take a walk on the mild side
And while an era ended
And shriveled thoughts descended
They said they were offended
Took a walk on the whine side

Afraid to say anything that won’t contain everything
I sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep
Fearing the absence of the reaper
I recall the midnight creeper
In an unrelenting loop
Death would be so sweet
While your eternity’s precise and neat
My nightmare just repeat repeats

Representation Dysphoria

I feel like a semiotic masterwork
Trapped in the body of a masculine jerk
Cut away this body and make me shine
A funny advertisement or a warning sign
I’m feeling like Cher but looking like Sonny
take away this body — replace it honey

I think like a prophet feel like a slug
Leaving nasty markings on the neighbors rug
Craving for chocolate growing in size
Being too incarnate swatting flies
Cut away this body and make me shine
A funny advertisement or a warning sign

Raised On Wine and Cheese

I was born in 1799
To a French whore named Babette
And all the things I did back then
Are easy to forget

I was reborn upstate somewhere
A minor English major
I was raised up on wine and cheese
Until I met a fakir

I hitchhiked my way out west
To find a cosmic trigger
It was strange but it was festive
Kenny Kenny Kenny was a rock ‘n roll trigger warning

Look around you – all around you
Is this your idea of fun?
Do you like the world around you
Are you ready to hold your tongue?

Outside of sorority
I’m feeling empathy
Overdosed on ecstasy
Please don’t arrest me

Outside of sorority
I was raised on wine and cheese

Jesus Was A Zombie

Jesus was a zombie
He rose up from the dead
It was a virgin rebirth
Still Mary gave him head
He walked the streets naked
Gorged on Roman flesh
Decided he would hitchhike
His way to Marrakesh

Jesus was a hippie
He listened to The Dead
He panhandled the Pharisees
Saved up all his bread
Went to see his father
Way up in the sky
Holy fuck Jesus said
I must be way high

Jesus was a vampire
He rose up from the dead
He had so much to offer
His body blood and dread
He started up a little cult
It grew … metasticized
Jesus was a cancer
That thought it knew the answer

 

I Got A Tiny Bit of Satisfaction

I got a tiny bit of satisfaction
I renewed my small celebrity ration
I robbed a castle with a Red Army faction
Released a song that couldn’t get no traction

When I’m riding on my bike
And my ode to joy is just a little bit thin
Having fun with a friend who’s trite
To stop searching for the truth within

I got a tiny bit of satisfaction
I lack the patience of St. Sebastian
My fingers searching for another distraction
Released a song that couldn’t get no traction

When I’m watching my VR
Amanda Knox is choking Roseanne Barr
I know that I could try t’ come between it
I got so hot the last time that I seen it

I got a tiny bit of satisfaction
I glimpsed the godhead til I started crashin’
Spent my last pennies on some glam rock fashion
Released a song that couldn’t get no traction

When I’m tweetin’ ‘round the world
Eating Pretzels on a leather couch
I’m just a prole writing rhymes that are fluid
Oh lord please don’t let me be understoo–ed

I got a tiny bit of satisfaction
I renewed my small celebrity ration
I robbed a castle with a Red Army faction
Released a song that couldn’t get no traction

He’s So Problematic

Beauty is convulsive
The state is restrictive
She’s a wee bit conflicted
And he’s so problematic

You can put him in your tryptich
Just another pig in lipstick
Hippies see a bad trip
And he’s so problematic

A not-so-free radical
His thoughts are merely comical
Or way to scatological
And he’s so problematic

You can’t be too effervescent
Though the few might resent it
Put a hole right in your sprocket
Find yourself and try to shock it

Join a cause then turn and mock it
Go to Russia on a rocket
He’s got toxic in the pocket
And he’s so problematic

He’s got toxic in the pocket
And he’s so problematic

Hipster Shoot Hipster

You snarked all over twitter
Snuck into Urban outfitters
Your rattlesnake does slither
The absinthe in your cup is bitter

Hipsters
Hipsters who hate hipsters
Are the silliest hipsters
In the world

I’m droppin’ names like Baudelaire
Droppin’ names like Artaud
Express my scorn with John Zorn
I’ve read a bit of Flaubert
Yeah I’ve read a bit of Flaubert

Hipsters
Hipsters who hate hipsters
Are the silliest hipsters
In the world

My iPod list is set to impress
My bookshelf is myself
My choice in threads artisanal breads
And Kendrick Lamar for street cred
And Kendrick Lamar for street cred

Hipsters
Hipsters who hate hipsters
Are the silliest hipsters
In the world

Reality TV Presents World War 3

There’s no place like home
There’s no place like Ancient Rome
There’s no one left but Al Capone
Final show at the superdome

There’s seven nukes in North Korea
Hey Iran we’re glad to see ya
Putin comes and Putin goes
Ivanka wins the Tokyo Rose

There’s no place like home
There’s no place like Ancient Rome
There’s no one left but Al Capone
Final show at the superdome

There’s one show on Bravo
There’s another on R T
There’s half a billion casualties
It’s on Youtube for free

There’s no place like home
There’s no place like Ancient Rome
There’s no one left but Al Capone
The final show is at the superdome

There’s one president hallucinating
There’s two democrats still debating
Beyonce is lactating
While half a billion peeps are fading

There’s no place like home
There’s no place like Ancient Rome
There’s no one left but Al Capone
The final show is at the superdome

Watch World War 3 on Reality TV
Oh my lovely lemmings come unto me
This one time event you’ve gotta see
Oh my lovely lemmings come unto me

It will be televised will be televised will be televised
It will be televised will be televised will be televised
It will be televised will be televised will be televised
It will be televised will be televised will be televised
It will be televised will be televised will be televised
It will be televised will be televised will be televised
It will be televised will be televised will be televised
It will be televised will be televised will be televised

I Should’ve Been A Guru

Recorded by SLT (2010)

Listen to I Should’ve Been A Guru

I should’ve been a guru
Young girls for the pickings
Followers wash my asshole
And grown men weep at my face
I think I could’ve made a go
Smile always and act like I know
The perfect secrets of the cosmic wow
But it’s too late to be a guru now

I should’ve been a guru
Talk shows with Larry King
White robes in a limousine
A long beard and a big ring
I know I could’ve been at peace
A happy face and perfect teeth
Free eats off the sacred cow
But it’s too late to be a guru now

I should’ve been a guru
Sitting still up on a hill
No stress no mess
No sins to confess
No action no friction
Never watched Pulp Fiction
Just laugh while the people bow
But it’s too late to be a guru now

I should’ve been a guru

Saturday Night In the Desert of the Real

Saturday night in the desert of the real
Last black crack dealer tells Wolf Bilitzer how it feels
Chemicals spray synaptic blocking drug keeps you straight
Orwell would’ve loved this blissed out blessed 5 minute hate
Caricature takes caricature on kinky televised date
Late that night he takes his sickly 5 minutes of rape
Senator picks his son up after having his own fun
And gives the press the finger while passing out free guns

Saturday night’s active shooter situations
Its taking place at every New York City subway station
It’s best if you and all your wives and children stay at home Mick
And get your gourmet pizza from an Amazon drone you prick
Virtual reality is finally starting to work real fine
Infected by a virus guaranteed to fry your mind
We’re going now to cash our last ever unemployment checks as
politicians rearrange the chairs on their Titanic decks

Fair thee well Titanic
Sink or swim in data panic
(Saturday night in the desert of the real)

The Twilight’s Last Gloating
 
Oh say can you see
TVs last angry white
While so smugly we sniped
In the twilights last gloating
The white fright and Ro Barr
And the scurrilous tweeting 
The TV show they loved
They’ll be happily streaming
The last rock stars cruel gaze
The sound of Purple Haze
Gave no proof amiright?
Our freak flags were still there
Oh see her dumb unsilenced fanbase still raves
O’er the land of the freaked
And the home of the crazed

 

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