The end is near
Wind passes right through my skin as I fall down, this furious speed will only destroy me. Crippling and devastating momentum, approaching maximum velocity. And this is how it's going to be, the point of it all. 'Cause this is what was meant for me, recklessly I fall.
Hulking, smashing, I come crashing, nothing like when I was small. I am unstoppable, I am the cannonball. That feeble coward that you knew, has undergone an overhaul. I am unstoppable, I am the cannonball.
Thirty-two feet per second I increase, as the exponents will multiply. I'll never stop to look back behind me, cutting through the bright blue sky. And this is how it's meant to be, untethered I will soar. I'll barrel towards the earth below, it's what I was made for.
And everyone will say it's just an accident, like some mishap or a tragedy. I think that failure has a purpose, and I don't believe it's chance if I fall. And I know that if I ever do fall, He will catch me. And if He ever lets me fall down, for the good of those who believe Him, He will make me into a cannonball. Unblemished, and faultless. A burning luminescence. Unequaled precision, beyond your scope of vision. Cannonball.
2. At Least I'm Not Like All Those Other Old Guys
I'm twenty-nine years old, still wearing the wallet chain, like I was twenty-eight. I'm wearing my Vans right now, so high school kids will think that I can skate. I've got a degree in science, yet shaking my fists in defiance.
Anyway, I'm not cliché, I hardly own any ties. I may be old, but at least I'm not like all those other old guys.
I'm watching MTV, for fashion tips, so I can say, that I saw it first. Backwards hat, tattoos, and goatee say I'm cool, just like Fred Durst. I pay almost all my bills, I sleep on a futon still.
(Anyway, I'm not cliche, I might not even die. I may be old, but at least I'm not like all those other old guys.)
3. So Far, So Bad
We thought we'd write a song about all of the problems inherent in the industry, it was going to be an exposé written in unblemished symmetry. We were going to have our glorious exit, an admonition and an encore, we were going to make a point to the whole world, but no one wants to hear it anymore.
Don't worry what this song would say, you'll never hear it anyway. They won't play this song on the radio, so far, so bad, that's how it goes. They'll pull our records from the shelves, so far, so bad, that's how it goes.
The rhyme scheme to this song was mostly flawless, it might have made good poetry. It could have bridged the gap between the classes, and overthrown the bourgeoisie. It made a couple points about the future, and how the past was kind of uncool, and if you ever tried to play it backwards, it told the kids to stay in school.
I thought I'd write an epiphany, how something good is changing me, but I guess we dodged some passing fad, it looks like it's so far, so bad. This song is rad. You could ask your dad. He won't be mad. This song is stupid.
4. New Years Eve
It's New Years Eve and I'm full of empty promises, I half pretend to keep this time, just like last year. The band is loud and I'm wandering the shadows, wishing I was never here. I persevere. A crowded room, these whitewashed tombs, they raise their glasses high, they kiss the past goodbye.
This New Years Eve, I'm waiting for tomorrow. My heart is on my sleeve, and yes I still believe, this New Years Eve, will turn out better than before, I'm holding on, still holding out, until they close the door... on me.
It's New Years Eve and I feel my insecurities, are haunting me like ghosts, this sinking quicksand. And then with thunderous praise and lofty adoration, a second passes by, yet nothing changes. I hate my skin, this grave I'm standing in. Another change of years, and I wish I wasn't here.
A year goes by and I'm staring at my watch again, and I dig deep this time, for something greater than I've ever been, life to ancient wineskins. And I was blind but now I see.
This New Years Eve, something must change me inside, I'm crooked and misguided, and tired of being tired. This New Years Eve, I'm waiting for tomorrow. My heart is on my sleeve, and yes I still believe, in You.
5. American Kryptonite
He is the icon of our times, solution to our modern crimes. His trigger finger clicks remotes, as carbohydrates slowly bloat. Not fragile, or brittle. He's seeking an acquittal. No scruples, no meekness, he has but one great weakness.
All the world must have a price, save yourself from sacrifice, everything will end all right. American Kryptonite.
His mighty hands will hardly fail, his intellect is barely frail, he moves his lips in perfect sync, demanding an espresso drink. With passion, he searches, he'll make another purchase. Familiar, you know him, he's saying that you owe him.
It was like the Manifest Destiny all over again, except, instead of taking and consuming everything in their paths for God, they did so with the same fervor and sense of entitlement for their new god... themselves.
Buy, take, break, throw it away.
6. It Was Beautiful
We flew over Alaska; we saw the frozen mountains pierce the clouds. It was beautiful. We felt the waves of New Zealand; the water shimmered beneath a moonlight shroud. It was beautiful. Close to home in an ordinary room we felt You there. It's my favorite memory. You're so beautiful.
The spring in Appalachia, with flowers swaying above the fields of green. It was beautiful. Driving in New England, the road littered with bright October leaves. It was beautiful. Close to home in an ordinary room we felt You there. It's my favorite memory. You're so beautiful to me. Thanks for the songs, these seven friends and eight good years. It is You that made them sweet, it was beautiful.
Pictures looking back, just snapshots of the past cannot compare, to feeling what we felt, through anything that came, that You were there.
A thousand smiling faces, backlit and bouncing to the beat. It was beautiful. As many soaring voices, forever changed by Your mercy. It was beautiful. Far away from all the lights and noise we felt You there. It's my favorite memory. You're so beautiful to me. Thanks for the songs, these seven friends and eight good years. It is You that made them sweet. You're so beautiful to me.
7. Wizard Needs Food, Badly
I know that you're probably mad at me. I've come to expect that. You know that you'll never have all of me, you've come to resent that. You say "tomato", I say "video games", you're acting so solemn. You'll take the precious remote control from me. Do I sound like Gollum? (It's) not that I'm escaping, you charm me like the flame does moths, it's just that you'd prefer me docile, like a narcoleptic sloth.
The wizard needs food badly, the Voltron can't be incomplete. The things I love, you hate so madly, I must not go down in defeat.
In the hunter-gatherer societies, I'd bring home the bacon. Public thought says men should try and be tame, stirred but not shaken. I say "baseball" then you start to cry, I'm sorry I grieve you. I think a motorcycle's a good way to die, this must bereave you. I know that you try so hard, and I'm not saying it's a sin, it's just that they don't feel my pain, in Vogue or Cosmopolitan.
And I'm sure you have your reasons, but listen to me please... I want the G.I. Joe with the Kung-Fu action grip. I want Nintendo with the extra-graphics-microchip. Tackle football with rocks, and sticks, and knives, and pain... I want a truck with the four wheel drive train. You'd rather see me get good at bookkeepping, I could clean house in the time that I'm not sleeping. I live to serve you, and I don't want to be rude, but you should see that the wizard needs food.
8. Farewell to Arms
You said, "Down with the church", with your fists up in the air, all the rancor and the hate, yeah we saw your frigid stare. You hate Christianity, but love your animosity, it's the church who's getting rotten, yet it's Christ that you've forgotten.
Goodnight, goodbye, farewell to arms, it's time. Who incited, what ignited, all this hatred? Say farewell to arms. Broken hearted, dearly departed, maybe we should say farewell to arms.
Lay down your hate, (the burden and) the weight will disappear. If you could separate your anger, from that still small voice you hear.
Clench your fists and grit your teeth, save forgiveness for the weak. Let your bitterness consume, let the salt rub in your wounds. You have saved up all your spite, stoked the flame that keeps the fight, it's so hard to be objective, when your reason is defective.
You say that you've aged, I think you're just enraged.
9. See The Flames Begin To Crawl
I've got pocketfuls of crumpled receipts, just about enough to start a fire. I'll watch the past just burn away. Put the mic stand through the amplifier. Put the bass down, bass down, one time, snap the neck now. Drum set, smash it. Kick the kick drum, one time, kicked in, smashed up, break it, break up.
See the flames begin to crawl, upward. Taste the anguish as they fall, unheard. Hear the record start to skip, unsung. Feel the weight that sunk the ship, so young.
I've got notebooks full of misshapen words, I'll never speak them anymore. Ten years from now, you won't know my name. Throw the microphone down on the floor. Put the guitar, guitar, one time, through the speaker, splintered, broken. Throw the horns down, one time, horns down, smash them, break them, break up.
The crowds recoil, demand our survival, fists in the air, mouths caked with saliva. But you are the one, the spark that was spawned, who picks up the pieces, and passes it on.
10. Anchors Away
An idea dies, in the same slight way, that we lose track of the facts. Slowly, unseen, slipping silently, through some fabricated cracks. And now the freedom of the press, has turned to freedom to impress. Perfect hair, sells product well, like suffocating, sickly smells, the make-up smears, like false pastels, like glossy, sugarcoated, shells.
Tune in, tune out, goodbye, goodnight. They're buying you with fear and lies. Turn it off until it's right, that's the news, that's all, goodnight.
The advertising dollars buy, the right to stifle antonyms, to sterilize the truth with fiction, so we can sing their corporate hymns. And all of us were cowed and bought it, hardly anybody got it. While mergers made their spires grow taller what they let you know grew smaller. And we were scared, or too bemused, and so we still turned on the news.
Are you afraid yet? They want you to be. It will keep you coming back. You are a loyal customer. Are you afraid yet? You should be.
11. Something Like Laughter
People say they know a girl who's lost her way, she's always angry. No one bothers to ask her what she hears or what she hopes for. The air is cold, she lives alone and tires of being her only provider, she can't fathom grace tonight, no not tonight, it's not an option.
Searching for more than mere tastes of living water, tired eyes tend to wander, seek the light. Create in her a sense of awe that sees Your beauty, let Your splendor flash with blinding light.
Cities slowly suffocate, what once was bright is now moth-eaten. As young girls filter thoughts that once were fresh now worn and beaten. Clutching pity like a prize to her side her fingers grow weary. "He cares so much for sparrows, won't He toss something out my way?"
Searching for more than mere lies disguised as dogma, tired eyes tend to wander, seek the light. Create in her a sense of awe that sees Your beauty, let Your splendor flash with blinding light. Standing tall all the aspen trees drink water as the rain falls down like laughter from the sky.
12. That's How the Story Ends
.sdneirf tseb eht ekam yeht :sehciwdnaS
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping. Long ago I heard that sound, often lost, but seldom found, a haunting voice from minutes past, Micah had returned at last.
And I was like, "What's up dude?" And he was like, "Uhhh, I found your comb." And then I was like, "Shut-Up!" And then he was like, "Yeah, and stuff." And then I was like, "Rock on!"
And that's how the story ends, now you hear the score my friends. We're finding answers, we're setting trends. I guess that's how the story ends.
How distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, and each dying ember, wrought its ghost upon the floor. I heard a voice that chilled my spine, I saw what I could not define, a sight I never could contrive, there stood Brad at last, alive. "Where have you been these endless years?" I asked him, sobbing through my tears. "I did not die by plague or prison, what really died is cynicism."
And then I said, "Awesome." And he was like, "Yeah, I guess. And by the way, those pants, they belong to my dad. And they're not really pants, they're leiderhosen." Hooray!
And Combat Chuck has passed away, his dying wish was "Never play that song again". And Kitty-Doggy's put to sleep, the dinosaurs lay in a heap, as they slowly go extinct, like me.
13. On Distant Shores
I have been scarred so deep by life and cold despair, and brittle bones were broken far beyond repair. I have leveled lies so deep, the truth may never find. And inside my faithless heart, I stole things never mine.
If mercy falls upon the broken and the poor, Dear Father, I will see you, there on distant shores.
I have toiled for countless years and ever felt the cost, and I've been burned by this world's cold, like leaves beneath the frost. On my knees I've crawled to You, bleeding myself dry. But the price of life is more, than I could ever buy.
And off of the blocks, I was headstrong and proud, at the front of the line for the card-carrying, highbrowed. With both eyes fastened tight, yet unscarred from the fight. Running at full tilt, my sword pulled from its hilt. It's funny how these things can slip away, our frail deeds, the last will wave good-bye. It's funny how the hope will bleed away, the citadels we build and fortify. Good-Bye.
Night came and I broke my stride, I swallowed hard, but never cried. When grace was easy to forget, I'd denounce the hypocrites, casting first stones, killing my own. You would unscale my blind eyes, and I stood battered, but more wise, fighting to accelerate, shaking free from crippling weight. With resilience unsurpassed, I clawed my way to You at last. And on my knees, I wept at Your feet, I finally believed, that You still loved me.
Healing hands of God have mercy on our unclean souls once again. Jesus Christ, Light of the World, burning bright within our hearts forever. Freedom means love without condition, without beginning or an end. Here's my heart, let it be forever Yours, only You can make every new day seem so new.