hey you there look at me
tell me tell me help me tell me what you see
am i the same man i used to be?

different, changed, or in between?
am i soft now or too extreme?
tell me tell me help me tell me what you see


hey you there look at me
tell me tell me help me tell me what you see

am i the same man i used to be?
bitter, sweet, or in between?
am i soft now or too extreme?

tell me tell me help me tell me what you see

everybody put your eyes on me

roll em up and down, tell me what you see
am i entrenched in a mystery
or knee-deep in an old routine?

am i stuck in a strange belief?
tell me tell me tell me tell me what it means


what will i do with myself?
what should i do with myself?
what will we do with ourselves

now that theres so much to tell?
thinking of it makes my hyper


hey you take a look at me
tell me tell me help me tell me what you see
am i the man i was meant to be?

something more than just a beast?
am i rough now or too pristine?
nothing at all or everything?


hey you tell me what it means
tell me bout the crimes of the birdless wings

is there a hole where they used to sing
where the maggots float and shy men scream?
are we the beat in a wicked dream

that the shaman says he cant repeat?

what will i do with myself?

what can i do with myself?
what should we do with ourselves
now that were back on the shelves?

thinking of it makes my skin crawl
what made the fly alive or magnet sing?
these are the things that i would want to be

but the knuckled remnants that claw and cling
and the paper flames i crawl beneath
though they inspire they dont bring release

why wont the let me?

hey you hanging by a twine

i see you dangling there from the other side
are we the frame that along the line
contextualized the wrong design?

are we the frame that in some dark place
turned a vicious act into a masterpiece?


what will i do with myself?
maybe ill think of it later
maybe well all take a rest

now that there are so few of us left
makes my fingers claustrophobic


a thousand fresh skull-zippers up and down
incessant microtonal spectrum drowns the shouts
as you tell me tell me tell me what its all about

as you grapple with the lightening bolts and zealot crowds

help me find a place in the human face where

there is space for the microcosm of an eternal race
and what is the rent there?


what'll we do with the shelves
now that theyre no longer there?
a box of small dots is whats left
their hooks have long been presumed dead
thinking of it makes me happy