Your Mother - One Big Inside Joke

We Laugh
On my bike at the crosswalk with long, pink hair and 7-inch goatee, I caught her in her BMW trying not to laugh at me. "I remember that phase," she thought to herself, "do you have something to prove of just trying to get attention?" I bet her phase was frat boys, drinking games and mall awareness. She was waiting at the light hiding in her BMW couldn't help but notice me, the stain on her suburban view. Biting her lip, a weak attempt to stifle her laugh. I stared at her. She looked just like every Dog Show Judge or French teacher I'd ever met: cropped hair and pointy sideburns. I can laugh at you too, so who's the better? Not me or you. We laugh at what we don't understand.

I stare and I peek when you're not looking but that's pretty much all the time because you don't know who I am. I could hack off my tongue and you wouldn't look my way. Now you better start to notice me before I spread rumors you're a guy. Then one day I heard you and it was me you were taking to. I couldn't comprehend a word you said, I just stood there like a fool. Is this some kinda dream? Am I in my underwear? Just hop on the handlebars and wipe the drool off my chin. Now I love you, you love me, and it's all your fault. It took 666 days but we're finally going out. Now I hear and I see you almost every day and soon that will bug me and I'll want you to go away.

Flower Town
I first met her at a Mr. T show, she had rings through her lip and through her nose and I wonder, wonder, wonder if she'll have my baby. I asked if she'd go around the pit with me, but she spit in my face and kicked my knee and that's when I fell in love with the girl that makes me bleed. I am jumping all around in a place called Flowertown. Caught a whiff of my toes with my nose while the flowers they all fell down. I climb a tree and take a pee on my mommy and my doggy then I look over my shoulder and what do I see…

Greg Ex-Masturbator
So far it's been almost 10,000 hours. After a month he swears it's no problem. I can't see how he does it, I mean, doesn't do it at all. I think I'd go crazy, I think he has blue balls. His name is…

When you hang out with your "friends" who get you high (and nothing else), you lose your self-respect/worth and end up with regret because you hurt me as much as you hurt you. Among those "friends" you found yourself a man, a prize who shows his love with the back of his hand, the best that you could find at a low point of your life but he just made it worse. I wish that I could be there to make it right. These people are ruining your life, I wish that I could save your life. I traveled long and far with stolen money and credit cards on a mission to save you from self-destruction, I need you. I was fueled by admiration. Q: My intentions? A: Sincere. There was time when you were my best friends, now it's nothing near. I know why you ignore me; it's because of somebody else. I rued the day you moved away because I couldn't have you all myself. If you had a better choice of friends I could learn to live with that, but you don't so I can only pretend to ignore you myself. We stole each other's virginity on one momentous night but you left your self-worth with me when you left my side. But don't forget why I came, to try and restore your faith and save you from the sex and drugs that you do without me. My journey must progress now and I leave you one more time, but before I go, you must know, I love you even though you're not mine. One thing you can't forget is that everything you do should not be because of someone else, it should be because of you.

Daddy's Home
He sits in his room, happy and sequestered. His disposition's in remission as he passes off the past. The family stays outside his door, he blocks them out and dreams of times without domestic violence and alcoholic scenes. Suppertime has come, the smell beckons him outside but his room serves as the safe zone, the place his father never tried. But he knows when he comes out of there alcohol and temper fill up dad's brain. A small mistake, his father breaks, and soon the boy knows his pain. Farther beast and throws him from one room to the next. He treats him like an offal, destroys his self-respect. The punches don't hurt as bad, as far as his body goes, but his feelings last much longer than a broken nose. This happens almost every night, this start out all fine. Pretend like nothing ever happened till dad hits the wine. He starts out all jovial until someone finds the nerve to question him. This is where it all begins, violence, rage an evil grin… The boy is now in jail where he'll spend his coming days and it's all because of daddy and his vitriolic ways. Because later one night, when his daddy went to rest, the little boy could take no more and stabbed his dad to death.

Yeah I'm Whooped
Last time I swore that it would be the last time I wrote another song about Kate, but the story continues, oh, and by the way, she's making me do it, because I'm so whooped. So Kate, this song is for you, and I hope that it's appreciated 'cause if not yuck fou. You made me go for walks on the beach, hold hands and watch stars and spread lots of money. But if you think that you get another song, well snookeylumps, I think that's where you're wrong, well, maybe not…

Not-So-Funny, Kinda Boring, Corny
There's something that I've got deep inside my heart (besides cholesterol or burn) it's just a yearning to write not-so funny, kinda boring, corny words of mine (hence the title)… about you. My most influential times happened while you were by my side and if it's all the same to you I wish that is where you'd reside. When I was 15-years old, playing my first show on the quad during lunch, I really sucked I'm sure you know. But, as I learned to take shame like the man that I pretend I am, you sat there right in front me, clapping, my only fan. Underneath my Star Wars sheets, March 2, 1990, I was so excited that I broke your hymen. I hope you don't mind their our first time is lyrically broadcast to all those three who are listening as I fill their cars with sap, but anyone who knows me knows that I am just a dork who finds good times in farts and boogers and just making fun. And the odds of my writing a compassionate song are about as slim as me but unfortunately you're able to bring the corniness out of me.

Heart San Francisco
I hate: its hills, its smell, the fact there's never a fucking parking space, its wind, its freeways, and when I drive the wrong way down a one way street. I hate San Francisco.

Newer Testament
Religious propaganda weighs o me, it's pushing STOP PUSHING conformation's not for me. I still do the right things (opinion) but an eye for an eye? Go to hell? I can't/won't/don't believe. Maybe religion is something to put your faith in but it could be just another occupation. And if there really is a god, I see no proof it's evolution vs. Adam and Eve. But if there's really no such thing how could one small hoax become such a legacy? Maybe no religion makes a void but could be if you don't believe you'll be destroyed. Some of my friends, they are Christian and they put too much pressure on me. Insubstantial persuasion equals a faux-pas to my scene, man, like far out. Some of my friends they are Satanic; it may sound fun but pain is lame. The way I see it if you hurt no one, the way you end up should be OK. Then there are my friends, who are the Atheists, mostly because they don't give it much thought, but I'm that way for a different reason. Do you have Answers? I thought not. I usually don't believe tings I can't see, but that doesn't mean that religion's not a good thing. I mean, if you're content with unsure fate, not hanks, I'll see my own answer and I'll wait.

Cereal and Toast
Far better than a falafel, it's more simple than a waffle. If it lands butter-side down I can throw it at the seagulls. White bread, wheat bread, multi-grain, sourdough… it's part of a complete breakfast, its called toast. Breakfast, lunch or dinner, the combo is a winner. Any time day or night, cereal and toast sounds all right! First thing in the morning, last thing before I got to bed, I pour myself a bowl of joy, then just add some bread. Frosted Flakes, Cheerios, Raisin Bran and Trix… And you know I always gotta slurp all the leftover soy mil, hill, hilk.

Tung Bung
Matt likes to tell jokes. Matt enjoys his smokes, but most of all he likes the draw of where you pinch a loaf. Matt likes to drink beer, he holds it very dear, but not as much as sucking butts, he'd love to suck your rear.

Color Me Badd Religion
Hello, my name is Greg, I teach at UCLA and I'm the singer for a punk-rock band. I write three-chord songs that sure aren't very long and use big words no one understands. And my bands' been around for days, that's why we have guarantees. "I've seen a lot of things in 5 years. I struggle just to hold back the tears, but every-fucking-where I go…" little brother, don't you know that I follow all emotion with a "fuck"? My hairlines receding rapidly, but I still go Against The Grain and screw society. Mr. Brett's a millionaire and icon for the businessman, and our generation will follow. We're no simpletons, not Bad Religion, but I hope you don't think we're lame 'cause all our songs sound the same. I always loved punk rock, now I got my Ph.D.; we'll never prevail with simplicity. Blender! 6, 9, 4, 12, 18, 7, hike! All harmony makes big money. Voice of God is Government; Fuck Armageddon. How Could Hell Be Any Worse? Just Suffer listening to my big words, I'm just a impulsive thesauratic entity. Go To Hell With Superman. And I'll count in all of our songs. Our words and music are interchangeable, before too long… major label, because by then we'll be the mainstream. Gang-bang, big-brunch, you know there's no free lunch. Sometimes I like Captain Crunch, but right now I feel like…

I just got my first real dose of the superstar vitamin in Japan, a foreign land.
Playing in a punk rock band. I was a token model American (to them anyway). Signing autographs, one bought me a shot of Absinthe, flashes blinded me, but they're the ones who cannot see. They say our band's the best, but were just like all the rest. We're nothing special, except that we travel. If we were from down the block, I'm sure they would not come flock to see us. Our capitalist culture ($) and liberal ideals (sex) are definitely the appeal, not us. I guess my bottom line is don't waste your time following a country as dumb as mine.