Have You Ever Been?
Written by DJ Mandrews on November 13, 2015
the uncanny valley presents:
the black belles / of montreal / the doors / pretenders / the jimi hendrix experience / jethro tull / devo / primus / this heat / hot victory / pj harvey / the beatles / oingo boingo
Feeling so lonely all the time, I’m feeling so lonely every day. What can I do to make you realize that I really want you here today? All I did was complain and worry about the things that ain’t even there. You may find it funny that I couldn’t make you feel it every day. Yeah I am sorry that I wasn’t able to make you stay. Just wanna make you happy, but I couldn’t make you feel it every day.
We just want to emote until we’re dead. I know we suffer for fashion or whatever. We don’t want these days to ever end, we just want to emasculate them forever. Pretty sirens don’t go flat, it’s not supposed to happen like that. We’ve got to keep it physical when our tellies are six hours away. Please call to say that you miss me, feel me or whatever. Vicissitudes are boxing our heads like they just want to emaciate them forever. We’ve got to keep our little click clicking at 130 BPM. It’s not too slow. If we’ve got to burn out, let’s do it together. Let’s all melt down together….Focus…(…calling…)…What’s the status?…(eleven)…Forever.
You’re no different from the prints that crease the wires, or mosquitoes that now operate on her brain. Thought that if I sank the seine I might find you. I’m no different from the claw they mic from the stair, or fake diamonds that are glued to eyes of plastic crows. Thought that where the planters go, you might find me.
I took a trip down to L’America to trade some beads for a pint of gold. Come on people, don’t you look so down, you know the rain man’s coming to town.
Change the weather, change your luck, and then he’ll teach you how to…f*** yourself
Friendly strangers came to town. All the people put them down but the women loved their ways. Come again some other day like the gentle rain.
Take. Take. Take.
Taking what you don’t need, you’ll get what you don’t need.
Stand back, take a look and take heed: all the children in god’s kingdom bleed.
See the networks of concrete and steel: they’ve no mystery but what they reveal.
Tells a story of a future that’s void of the beauty and the majesty that life on
Earth is meant to be.
Talk. Talk. Talk.
Talk about the government, and not a word about political favour. Everything touched is my political choice. The life you take is your political voice.
The sacred cows come crashing to their knees, golden harvest reaped without intelligence. There’s no chance between the heavens and the seas.
In a blood bath don’t laugh: grab your piece of golden calf.
Do unto others as you wish be done to you, there’s a million lies ’round everything true. You slaughter when you feast, you disrespect the beast.
Make our beds and lie there: take your share
If you can just get your mind together then come across to me. We’ll hold hands and then we’ll watch the sun rise from the bottom of the sea.
But first: are you experienced?
Have you ever been experienced? Well, I have. I know, I know, you’ll probably scream and cry that your little world won’t let go, but who in your measly little world are trying to prove that you’re made out of gold and can’t be sold.
Let me prove it to you. I think they’re calling our names. Maybe now you can’t hear them, but you will if you just take hold of my hand.
Not necessarily stoned, but beautiful
In the shuffling madness of the locomotive breath runs the all-time loser, headlong to his death. He feels the piston scraping, steam breaking on his brow. Old Charlie stole the handle and the train it won’t stop going.
No way to slow down.
He sees his children jumping off at the stations one by one, his woman and his best friend in bed and having fun. He’s crawling down the corridor on his hands and knees. He hears the silence howling, catches angels as they fall, and the all-time winner has got him by the balls.
He picks up Gideon’s Bible, open at page one:
God He stole the handle and the train won’t stop going.
No way to slow down.
Never leaves a gap unfilled, always pays on time, always fits the bill. He comes well prepared.
Cube top, squared off, eight corners, 90-degree angles. Flat top, stares straight ahead. Stock parts, blockhead.
Never trips over, stands up on his own. He is a blockhead, thinking man full grown. He comes well prepared
Cube top, squared off, eight corners, 90-degree angles. Flat top, stares straight ahead. Snake eyes, blockhead.
I just can’t seem to blend into society. I have no hope for this dim simplicity of law and order by whose rules I see no rhyme in the reason. I hold no hope for this holy treason of love and so soft, by whose standards they tell me, they tell me who are they, who is they.
Well, what do we expect? Paper hats? Maybe even roses? The sound of explosions? Oh no, is this any easier? Comfy? Climax? Ego? Decorations up or down?
The sound of explosions: what does this tune signify? What is its meaning? Is it really that straight forward, or are our ears beyond words?
He should not be hid; he’s just too big in a cloud. Please come down. I’d put stars at your feet, put Mars in your head.
Show yourself to me and I’d believe. I’d moan and I’d weep, fall silent at your speak. I’d burst in, full to the brim.
Mary lost her head and let it bleed. Came crying back to me, “My son where’s he hid? Don’t deny it, and don’t you hide him.”
No words, no sign. Mary says, “I’m not lying.”
How come he’s so big? But good lord he’s been hid. Good lord where you hid?
Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup .They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe. Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind, possessing and caressing me.
Jai Guru Deva OM
Nothing’s gonna change my world
Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes. They call me on and on across the universe .Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box. They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe.
Sounds of laughter, shades of life are ringing through my open ears, inciting and inviting me. Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns, it calls me on and on, across the universe.
What you see is what you get. Don’t relax; you’re not home yet.
Put your life into my hands. Look around, you’ll understand
It’s the ’80s, idiot! It’s the ’80s, little fool! Don’t forget the Golden Rule!
What the hell did you expect? Pretty red roses? Wet puppy noses? Men with rubber hoses is more like it.
Open up your eyes and look around…then close them tight and kiss the ground. You better be thankful you’re alive, and how much longer can you survive.
Underneath the mask, there’s something brewing
Underneath the ground, there’s something moving
What the hell did you expect? Pretty red roses? Wet puppy noses? Men with rubber hoses is more like it, patrolling the street with all of their friends, bashing you around, trying to make you like them.
What you see is what you get.