LET'S GET SERIOUS- the lyrics

THANK ME WITH YOUR HANDS:

“Laughter, lovemaking, even tears of rage and of my own impotence in knowing, these are means of knowing that can’t be located on a plane of intelligence.”
-Georges Bataille

I think I’m gonna leave Brooklyn for a while.
I think I’m gonna go (to) Oakland for a while.
I’m gonna wear shorts and I’m not gonna cry when I listen to wild horses
because..

I dig holes all day.
You and me we aren’t the same.
We speak in sounds-the secret sounds that secretly slang.

let’s not talk about it
we never did so why start now
let’s just go back to your place and not talk about it there
I was thinking we should sleep in seperate beds,
but the heat’s gone to my head
let’s get tired at the same time tonight

you didn’t...
you didn’t hurt me, I’ve got no feelings left.

stop fucking
stop fucking with me and I’ll stop fucking with you too
it’s hard to do
I love you


IT’S NOT THE HEAT IT’S THE HUMILITY:

“I don’t know what’s more important, my ego or yours?”
-Notorious B.I.G.

you look at me
trying to critique
to make it seem o.k.
maybe we look bad
maybe we sound bad
maybe what we “say” is out of line with your ideology

do you have an ideology?
do you have a personal ethos?
do you think about it?

we’re all in the same room
searching for the same release
our reasons are different but wants are the same so...

so just move

it doesn’t matter what i say
beacuse you hear the same thing over and over and over again.
you need a catchy chourus to make the catch’ed crowd groove
you need a catchy catch to make the catch’ed crowd move
you need to catch the catch before the catch catches you


POST-FASCIST FANTASIES

“Totality for (the) kids”
-Raoul Vaneigm

you can’t say this song is not about race
you can’t say this song is not about gender
you can’t say this song is not about sexuality
you can’t say this song is not about art

you want to know?
it’s about you and your friends

they push us down (all the way down)

you know this is nothing you know it back and forth and...
you never want to talk you just listen
listen...
your privledge bothers me
my privledge bothers me
and that’s just the way it is

they push us own (all the way down)

for the kids in the back row i say
“won’t do what you wanted”
you never want to talk, no
you just....
yeah, yeah yeah, etc.


SEXIST NOT SEXY

“ FATHER: Yes dear I know you have fantasies.  Monsieur Barthes didn’t mean to exclude you-he just didn’t think of it.

(In the meantime, the MOTHER has come back in still carrying her Roland Barthes mask.)

MOTHER: That’s why we have to think of it for ourselves!”
-Susan Rubin Suleiman

your words are a potent fear
your words are potent here
your words are, your words are...

you use words that you don’t understand
and it doesn’t make sense
you call her a “bitch” when she doesn’t bend to your demands
and it doesn’t make sense
your shit-talking is not a grand stand
(she’s a “slut” when she turns you down, and sh’e a genius when she takes you home)
misguided masculinity guised as emotional ineptitude
i’m not interested

if you ask me you’re a sexist,
but you never asked.


DON’T BE A DICK:

“If the laughter is violent enough, there will be no limiting it.”
-Georges Bataille

i married a tax collector
and it’s been the most exciting three years of my life
we don’t make love as much as i’d like to,
but i understand she’s busy, so busy

class conciousness in a carry-on bag

our neighborhood is nice
the kids can go out at night
we enjoy convienence
even when it isn’t conveinent
we give the poor something to shoot for
“goals are golden”
with the right education
“just keep trying”
i’d tell the bums on bowery

my trousers have a nice pleat and i enjoy my method of self-defeat
it suits me...