Gasoline
I88
Attack of the Evil Dictionaries
Pictorial History of Stress
Bluejays are Vampires
Infrared
Boj
Hormesis

Gasoline
Sweigert

Went for the key when you left
From the smoke filled room
You hid it so well that you'll never find it

Blistering tires screech
Smoking past a checkered flag to empty stands
Gasoline burns all around you

Where are your fathers
The ones who encouraged you
Believed in you
Are they haunting the open roadway?

Blurred visions and rumors of sounds in the night
Tormenting you
Revving you up from the race track

And all you can do is count up to 500 miles
(Doesn't anybody understand?)
But all they want you for is the dirty work
I don't know
(It's schizophrenic, you see?)

I88
Sweigert

In the Volkswagen race

He builds buildings, plants flowers
Just by the tallest of towers

88 is merging down
Only on the eastern bound

The sun shines bright against cement decks

Attack of the Evil Dictionaries
Sweigert

The knife sweatered weasel head dropped his clothesbasket coffee drain all stuck up with glue dust the rabbit next flashlight by floppy disk newspaper gloved his heart surely certainly forgot the mask underneath a "do not disturb" mindset having headphoned the masses with pillowcreamed candle shredder feed for little animals on filament dictionary usage buttered calendars and squirrel cakes massage a planet like Walt Disney's orange.

Pictorial History of Stress
Susnara/Sweigert

Wax boys with goose bumps turning out tripe on the stage
I lost the door prize, timpani?
Maybe add more delay?
Called out for "Freebird" but they wont go away
If my friends could see me now
I would cower like gelatin
And make small aquatic bird-shapes with my hands

Clones, add babushka
Treble up, REM friends
They slosh to D-chord symphonies and they do it again
"Great" Rolling Stone says (like they do every day)
If my friends could see me now
Paying five bucks to watch this
They'd sell me a marshland, "Okra Falls"

The final truth is, spam is spam
No matter how you cook and serve the loaf
So, even if the plate is pale blue
Embroidered with purple posies
(The pig-butt still giggles)
Camouflaged by the mushrooms
Nudging the beans, toast, and hash browns
Any day in radio
Will enhance spam, promote spam
Till you have become the same

Bluejays are Vampires
Sweigert

Mother was an actress
They hung piñatas from the chandeliers
Held wistful raves before it was cool to (do drugs)
And played records all night
To readings of the "Glass Menagerie"

Every Tuesday, Jehovah Witnesses at the Laundromat
Fit in like Druids on Christmas
I've done the Druidess next door
(You rascal!)
She was the queen of pre-Cosby pudding voiceovers

And those were the days
When they would hang the old jug
Along the front porch swings of Everville
Their estate was haughty
I'd bet a Troy Halsey to a landfill
That you would spread the cabbage thin
Phoebe Tibbles to a landfill
Well, I oughta
Phoebe Snow to a landfill

Infrared
Sweigert

Took a trip on the first days of summer
Sawed a train in half, drowned in two
Threw a fiberglass wing in the river
No one knows why it happened

But infrared shows gasoline
Spilled out over the surrounding trees
So, they say it must be human error

Took the trip on a flight simulator
All coordinates were reviewed
All commands from the blackbox repeated...
Somehow nothing would happen

Instruments show latitude and longitude
I think I see with foggy eyes
The distant trace of the horizon
As we hit the floor

Boj
Sweigert

I own a shop in Bangladesh
We've got the longest lines in town
They make a tie with bowling pins!

Took another fat deposit to the bank today
Shot the mistress to the mall
And my wife won't find the laundered petty-cash fund
And she won't ask me why

I have a friend who plays the sax
And a dozen hand made bells
He's got consignments everywhere
Nothing he does sells
It's really just a waste of time
And while he's pushing it past his prime
C.D. burns her royalty checks to keep her mansion warm
But he won't ask you why

I own a shop in Bangladesh
We've got the longest lines in town
I have a friend who plays the sax
And a dozen hand made bells
Lives in the subway under Wells

Took another fat deposit to the bank today
Shot the mistress to the mall
And my wife won't find the laundered petty-cash fund
Should not have drunk her tea today
And she couldn't make out the taste
Her eyes still pointing upward to her helpless god of love

Hormesis
Sweigert

The days pass in whiteness and cold on McKinley
Your tent like a butterfly lodged in the snow
Your best friend just lifted on a stretcher to the sky
The winds tear at your lungs as your feet start to slide

Your future is balanced on a sliding ice platform
Your backpack weighs heavy and the air is getting thinner
Whatever wont kill you will just make you stronger

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