Are You Alive?

OPENING LINE
You owe it to society to be better than your tormentors, not worse.

VERSE 1
Remember when I was fourteen years old?
You and your friends took away my soul
You cracked some jokes about my pole
Lied about me sticking it in the ugliest holes
The conspiracy spread throughout school
Believed by every white bread redneck fool
And to this day I’ll always wonder
If you can still hear my voice of thunder

CHORUS 1
Are you alive or are you dead?
Why are you renting space in my head?
Am I insane or was I right all along?
When do I get to be the hero so strong?

VERSE 2
Remember when the year was 2003?
I had stars in my eyes, a head full of dreams
But all I remember about that year
Was your insults buzzing in my ear
Grew up believing I would never be loved
By a man to whom I shouldn’t have looked up
And to this day I’ll always ask
Why your words always poured from your ass

CHORUS 2
Are you alive or are you dead?
I’d rather you were the latter instead
Am I crazy or do I have a point?
Was this all just a combat boot to the groin?

BRIDGE
I’m so tired of your excuses
I’m so tired of feeling useless
Break the cycle of my abuses
So I can finally hear the music

VERSE 3
Remember when the year was 2009?
Everybody moved on, left me behind
I’m sick of hearing, “Get a life!”
From those who stabbed my back with a knife
I can’t move on and follow my ambitions
Got a bottle of pills and shitty nutrition
And to this day I’ll sit and wait
For the world to give up on its hate

CHORUS 3
Are we alive or are we dead?
Do we lie awake in our beds?
Am I nuts or is it true
That I grew up to be like you?

Whoppers

You like to jerk it off to The Human Centipede

Shake your ass to Green Day’s “Know Your Enemy”

Give lap dances at your local retirement home

Knickknack, paddywack, eat your doggie’s bone

What’s the matter? You don’t like being defamed?

Don’t like shouldering someone else’s blame?

I heard that before, in fact, a million times over

Welcome to the world and its New World Odor

For every double whopper you’ve got about me

I’ve got a thousand more on you, bless creativity

You burglarize houses with a Darth Vader mask

“Use the force” and those who can’t even ask

But your light saber is the size of a toothpick

When it’s time to get it on, you’re fucking useless

You made a donation to the Humane Society

But it was criminal restitution for being rapey

You had to sell your collection of celebrity condoms

To make up for the debt and cut your own losses

Let’s upgrade that double whopper to a size triple

You get your cereal’s milk from your grandma’s nipple

Let’s go quadruple on your heart attack whopper

Or is this where you finally call the crime stoppers?

I wish I had that option when you lied about me

Freedom of speech has never been completely free

Maybe I’ll get you a ball gag for Christmas this year

Stick it in your mouth until the truth is loud and clear

I’ll get you some handcuffs for a stocking stuffer

No access to your keyboard, you’re grounded by mother

I know this all sounds a little creepy and kinky

But it keeps your bullshit from getting too stinky

Everybody Knows Your Name

VERSE 1

Caught in a spider web of lies and rumors

Cut that shit out like an overgrown tumor

The harder you fight, the stronger they come

It’s a raging epidemic of sheeple so dumb

There is no escape from the worldwide prison

That thrives and survives on political schisms

You can run for your life or for your own death

Either way, you’re face-down like the rest

CHORUS

Everybody knows your name

Everybody spreads your shame

Everybody plays mind games

Everybody kills your fame

Everybody get down!

VERSE 2

You’ve got your own pornographic cinema

Gone are the days of being a private citizen

Gone are the days of endless wealth

Gone are the days of your mental health

Anxiety closes in on your cracking mind

Depression isn’t too goddamn far behind

Schizophrenia talks to you all hours of the day

A broken soul is the price you shall pay

CHORUS

Everybody knows your name

Everybody spreads your shame

Everybody plays mind games

Everybody kills your fame

Everybody get down!

BRIDGE

I know it isn’t fair

As you rip out your hair

As you fall down the stairs

As nobody seems to care

VERSE 3

No comeback tour on this year’s calendar

No epic fanfare of any such caliber

No open arms to give you a warm hug

No bottles of beer to sloppily chug

Just you and your thoughts to keep you awake

Doesn’t matter how much Xanax you take

Dead in the water, dead in your bed

Dead to the world, dead in your head

EXTENDED CHORUS

Everybody knows your name

Everybody spreads your shame

Everybody plays mind games

Everybody kills your fame

Everybody wants your bounty

Everybody storms your county

Everybody fires their rounds

Drops your corpse to the ground

Everybody get down!

Your Name Is Motherfucker

VERSE 1

Dehumanize you like you do to your foes

It’s such a mature tactic as everyone knows

I don’t care what it says on your ID card

Your name is motherfucker, now play the part

Your name is dip-shit, your name is jackass

A whole lot of flash, but not a lot of class

I can be cool and edgy just like your bitch ass

But in the end, we’re going nowhere fast

CHORUS

Your name is motherfucker! X4

VERSE 2

Can’t we talk to each other like grown men?

Or on a sour note will our conversation end?

Your name is mud, your name is bullshit

Drag you through them both if I so wish

CHORUS

Your name is motherfucker! X4

BRIDGE

You did it to yourself with nobody’s help

Put us all through hell with the lies you tell

Defamation and subjugation

Diplomacy has become lost in translation

VERSE 3

Don’t blame the victim, blame the attacker

Don’t use the words of a middle school slacker

Don’t build and army of trolls and assholes

Don’t build a wall of your critics’ skulls

Your name is coward, your name is lunatic

Your past is covered with abusiveness

Your name is six-double-five-three-two-one

It’s the number on your orange uniform, son

CHORUS

Your name is motherfucker! X8

Down with the Sickness

Another new year, another lonely meal for Anthony Robertson. He absentmindedly twirled his shrimp linguini with his fork while gazing with a silent fury around Red Lobster’s clientele for the evening. So many happy people. So many successful couples with adorable kids. Men in suits and ties. Girls in cocktail dresses. All of them beautiful and perfect like the Mary-Sues they were. All Anthony had to show for his troubles was a doughy body covered by a Star Wars T-shirt and sweatpants along with a permanent resting bitch face.

He sighed and twirled his food some more, only occasionally taking a sip of his diet cola. He could see his reflection in the drinking glass and though distorted, he hated that image with fire and fury. Anthony could easily join a gym, shave his face, cut his hair, maybe even speak up for himself every now and then. But what was the point of it all? How would any of this make a difference at thirty years of age? How would this set of New Years resolutions be any different from the others? He thought maybe he should have the waitress box his meal up so he could eat it when he got home. No sense in taking in this circus of conformity any longer.

Of course, no circus of conformity would be complete without its own set of clowns. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” Anthony mumbled to himself. Dancing happily towards their booth was the tuxedo-wearing Ryan Lawrence and his new wedding dress-wearing wife Lillian, their faces familiar to Anthony dating all the way back to high school. Prom king and prom queen. Football stud and cheerleader chick. Cult of personality and goddess of love.

The newly-minted Lawrences occupied the same side of the booth so that they could spoon together like the lovebirds they were. At some point during Anthony’s silent apoplexy of jealousy, he had forgotten that there was a plate of shrimp linguini in front of him and a cup of diet cola not too far off. He closed his burning eyelids and took a bite of his meal. Creamy sauce, check. Soft noodles, check. Garlicky shrimp, check. Lillian’s lipstick, check…wait a minute…

Sure enough, the jarhead Ryan and his blond bombshell were playing a Stanley Cup-worthy game of tonsil hockey, much to the ignorance of the other patrons. Every time their tongues bathed in each other’s mouths, Anthony could feel the same sensation just from eating his meal. Suddenly his entire pasta dish looked like saliva and dentistry. His stomach felt like it was pregnant with a bag of bowling balls.

Yet Anthony couldn’t look away from this romantic display. He could have heard their lips and tongues smacking even if he was in Scotland….during a rock concert…with plugs in his ears…and permanent ringing. The PDA even included Ryan fondling his wife’s breasts through the dress. Any chance of Anthony getting a boner that night had died a long time ago with his high school self-esteem.

The lonely juggernaut waddled over to Ryan and Lillian’s table and slammed both fists on the wooden surface to snap them out of their little love fest. With a gaze as scalding as the coffee pot on the table, Anthony said, “Now that I have your attention…and everyone else’s attention in this fucking restaurant…could you do me a favor? The next time you plan on shooting a porn movie in a public place, make sure to send me an advance copy so that I can rub one out instead of crying myself to sleep at night.”

While Lillian folded her arms and pouted in shock, Ryan laughed it off and said, “Listen, buddy, I know it’s hard for a big guy like you to get girls, but if you look hard enough, you’ll find one someday. Maybe you’ll get to shoot your own porno in public. Until then, could you please get the fuck out of here so my wife and I can enjoy our suppers?”

Anthony stood up straight and hollered into the waitress’s vicinity, “You hear that? These two want to enjoy their meals! Don’t bother bringing them crab legs and cheddar biscuits! They already have someone, I mean, something to eat!”

While that last joke earned a few awkward chuckles from the other patrons, Lillian’s expressed the opposite of humor when she stood up in the booth and asked, “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Ryan barricaded his wife with his arm and sat her down again while saying, “It’s alright, honey, I got this.”

“That’s right, Lillian, there’s no need to fight your husband’s battles for him,” mocked Anthony. “As soon as the two of you have a daughter together, that’ll be her job, not yours.”

Ryan stood up and was nose-to-nose with his assailant, teeth gritted and fists clenched. “What the fuck is your deal, you ignorant cow?!” He muttered. “This is not the time or the place for your jealous bullshit!”

Anthony grabbed Ryan by his bowtie and growled, “Speaking of not being the time or the place for anything, I think you’re pretty much forgotten that this is a restaurant! A restaurant where people eat food! Nobody wants to eat their food with a bunch of disgusting tongue warriors next to them! You know that old phrase get a room?! Well, that sounds like damn good advice right now, don’t you agree?!”

Ryan kneed Anthony in his pudgy gut and dropped him to the ground. Waitresses, waiters, and patrons scrambled onto the scene to hold the husband back and prevent further violence. Their tight grips on his arms and legs didn’t prevent Ryan from shouting a few choice swear words at his opponent, who grabbed the edge of the table to pull himself to his feet.

Lillian, who didn’t have the disadvantage of a crowd blocking her path, stood up from the booth, slapped Anthony across his bearded jowls, and sneered, “Serves you right! Come on, honey, let’s eat somewhere else!”

The knee to his stomach and the slap across his face lit a fire within Anthony Robertson’s soul. If his pent up rage of twelve long years of loneliness and disgust was an actual fire, the governor would declare a state of emergency. Anthony didn’t have the power of pyromancy at his side. He didn’t have a flamethrower or cigarette lighter handy. But he could burn it all down anyways. In one swift motion, he spun Lillian around by her wrist and splashed scalding hot coffee in her once beautiful face.

The blood curdling scream caused Ryan to push the now weakened onlookers aside and kneel by his wife’s side. Her flesh peeled, reddened, and in some places bled profusely. Her tongue grew pitch black like she had just swallowed a lit cigar. Steam rose from her blistered face like a California wildfire.

Anthony’s grin grew wider than even his jowls could allow. “Go ahead, Ryan. Kiss her. Kiss her deeply. Show her how much you love her. Go ahead and cannibalize her. She’s what the steak chefs would call…well-done!”

Holding his wife tightly while patrons scrambled to call 9-1-1, Ryan’s visage was a cauldron of rage and sorrow. He looked so heartbroken that he couldn’t bring himself to his shaking legs to bring the fight to Anthony. Instead all he asked was, “What the fuck is wrong with you, man? All we did was kiss each other! There’s nothing wrong with kissing! It’s all about love, right?”

Anthony leaned closer to Ryan’s melting puddle of a face and said above the din of Lillian’s slowly calming screams, “I wouldn’t know what good kissing is like. According to you and your football friends, the only kissing I knew was with a hideous pimple faced princess named Jennifer. You think I forgot about those lies you spread about me, Ryan? Sure, it was over a decade ago, but try explaining that to my traumatized mind. Try telling me that as I eat my meals and see Jennifer’s face in my plate. That disgusting, disfigured, retarded face chewing my food for me! It’s a shame, too. I was enjoying being on the honor roll. They don’t let traumatized kids on the honor roll, Ryan. They don’t even let them have English degrees.”

Ryan’s face softened from rage and agony to shame and regret. His wife was still a fucked up mess with her acid-like burns. No more kissing for this triangle of terror known as Anthony, Ryan, and Lillian. Nobody knew what Ryan was thinking, but it probably had something to do with Anthony’s mental scars being just as painful as Lillian’s physical ones. At least that’s what Mr. Robertson hoped as he waddled away from the scene of the crime.

A whole litany of racing thoughts burned through Anthony’s mind as patrons scrambled to administer first aid to Lillian. He secretly wondered if Ryan would divorce his wife on the basis of her not being attractive anymore. But then again, he believed those two deserved each other until the end of forever. While Anthony couldn’t have his cake and eat it too, he could eat something else that was probably more nutritious and realistic: the plate of shrimp linguini he had been nursing for half an hour.

But that wasn’t how revenge worked. Instead of healing his mind, Anthony’s thoughts raced faster and faster, each damning trauma flaring in his mind ever so painfully. He knew he was destined for the hellhole of prison for his actions. He knew the food would taste even more disgusting than a false high school girlfriend’s mouth. Maybe it would have worms and maggots in it. Maybe there would be more traumas waiting for him behind bars. There was no turning back now. Anthony sucked in a deep breath and prepared to surrender his body and fucked up mind to the colorful police sirens outside Red Lobster.