Thursday, November 9, 2006

I just had to

I'm about to leave to go to Corinne's birthday party, but I just had to...


I... I just had to....

13 comments:

Patrick said...

would you take the hellevator to hell with me?

i'll call you saturday afternoon around four 'cause that's when my debate tourney is over. let's get together then.

<81

Patrick said...

Buy it, use it, break it, fix it,
Trash it, change it, melt - upgrade it,
Charge it, pawn it, zoom it, press it,
Snap it, work it, quick - erase it,
Write it, cut it, paste it, save it,
Load it, check it, quick - rewrite it,
Plug it, play it, burn it, rip it,
Drag it, drop it, zip - unzip it,
Lock it, fill it, call it, find it,
View it, coat it, jam - unlock it,
Surf it, scroll it, pause it, click it,
Cross it, crack it, switch - update it.
Name it, rate it, tune it, print it,
Scan it, send it, fax - rename it,
Touch it, bring it, pay it, watch it,
Turn it, leave it, start - format it.

Lock it, fill it, call it, find it,
View it, coat it, jam - unlock it,
Buy it, use it, break it, fix it,
Trash it, change it, melt - upgrade it,
Charge it, point it, zoom it, press it,
Snap it, work it, quick - erase it,
Write it, cut it, paste it, save it,
Load it, check it, quick - rewrite it,
Surf it, scroll it, pause it, click it,
Cross it, crack it, switch - update it.
Name it, rate it, tune it, print it,
Scan it, send it, fax - rename it,
Touch it, bring it, pay it, watch it,
Turn it, leave it, start - format it.


Technologic
Technologic
Technologic
Technologic

Nick said...

wow that song, patrick, wow is the best ahhh daft punk= B.E.S.T.

Patrick said...

(wow, third comment)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

(in about twenty-five minutes)

(so many parenthesis in this comment)

*oh well*

::<81::

Anonymous said...

Hey

I just remembered it was your birthday.

And I was like "Holy crap, omg it's CC's birthday, I haven't seen that girl in ages and I feel bad".

So,

Happy birthdayy.

Patrick said...

ADMIT IT! Despite your pseudo-bohemian appearance and vaguely leftist doctrine of beliefs, you know nothing ABOUT art or sex that you couldn't read in any trendy new york underground fashion magazine...Proto-typical non-conformist. You are a vacuous soldier of the thrift store gastapo. You adhere to a set of standards and tastes that appear to be determined by an unseen panel of hipster judges-BULLSHIT-giving your thumbs up and thumbs down to incoming and outgoing trends and styles of music and art. Go analog baby, you're so post-modern. You're diving face forward into an antiquated past, it's disgusting! It's offensive! Don't stick your nose up at me! Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself?

You spend your time sitting in circles with your friends, pontificating to each other, forever competing for that one moment of self aggrandizing glory in which you hog the intellectual spotlight, holding dominion over the entire SHALLOW....POINTLESS...conversation. Oh we're not worthy.

When you walk by a group of quote-unquote normal people you chuckle to yourself, patting yourself on the back as you scoff. It's the same superority complex shared by the high school jocks who made your life a living hell, makes you a slave to the competitive capitalist dogma you spend every moment of your waking life BITCHING about! Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself? You're free to whine. It will not get you far. I do just fine, my car and my guitar. I'm proud of my life and the things that I have done, proud of myself and the loner I've become.

Well let me tell you this, I am shamelessly self-involved. I spend hours in front of the mirror making my hair elegantly disheveled. I worry about how this album will sell because I believe it will determine the amount of SEX I will have in the future. I self-medicate with drugs and alcohol to help treat my extreme social anxiety problem. You are a FAKER! You are a FRAUD! You're living a LIE! You don't impress me! You don't intimidate me! ADMIT IT! Why don't you bow down, get on the ground, walk this fucking plank! I'm proud of my life and the things that I have done, proud of myself and the loner i've become. You're free to whine. It will not get you far. I do just fine, my car and my guitar, and I am done with this. I wanna taste the breeze of every great city, my car and my guitar. You're urgently unfulfilled, when I'm dead I'll rest.

Patrick said...

As I look back at countless crossroads and the middle where I stay
Right up the beaten path to boredom where the fakest fucks get laid
By the faux-finest finds it’s been that way and god damn you, how you stay - with every scummy, crummy hour of the scummy, crummy day.

Patrick said...

What do the old people teach us but how to die (die) die (die) and what do your hissy fits teach you except how to cry, pussy, cry?
Yea the futile, the futile, it outweighs the beautiful.
Futile, the futile, it outweighs the beautiful.
Futile, the futile, the futile so

I'm eating rat poison for dinner. Pull the cord from the phone. I am dining along, Tonight, rat poison for dinner. So goodnight.
Love! I shall not love, yet I'll still sing about it. I hope it covers the ocean in slime, the drama and drool. I'm leaking the blood of a fool. (I'm full of it, I'm full of it, I'm full.)
Rat poison for dinner, pull the chord from the phone. I am dining alone.
Tonight. Rat poison for dinner, pull the chord from the phone. I am dining alone. Tonight.
Oh I am dining alone. Tonight. Tonight. Tonight.

Patrick said...

I've watched you all succeed with the highest marks in greed from my cave, where you're displayed like photographs that bleed
and my teeth grind names into their ivory membranes.
I am hate everlasting with each sickly spell I'm casting.
I discard all my feelings. The stars scar my ceiling.
Sun, I won't spare you. Moon, I won't spare you.
My pain is mine. It's become my friend iwth time. Chia-like, it grows.
Watch it fester for my foes.
One day, I'm going to get up get right back into the city with my flamethrower mouth.
You bet your life it won't be pretty.
I discard all my feelings. The stars still scar my ceiling.
I won't spare you. I won't spare you.
Photograph (bath) Photograph (bath) Photograph
Why'd you have to go and take a picture of a life like that? You aren't new enough.I give up I give up I give up on you. Look at you,look at you,look at you. Pretty boy floating face down in a pond of glue. You aren't new enough. we give up, we give up, we give up on all those like you. I discard all feelings. The stars scar my ceiling. I won't spare you. I won't spare you. won't spare you won't spare you won't spare you i won't spare you. i shall grow and grow. i'll grow

Patrick said...

Here I am
Laid bare at the end of my rope
I've lost all hope so long

Molly Connelly just broke up with me
Over the revealing nature of the songs
You goddamned kids had best be gracious with the merch money you spend
'Cause for you
I won't ever have rough sex with Molly Connelly again

Here I am
Laid down at the end of my rope
Wishing I had not been born

Now I've spewed too much
I can never shut it up
I thought you should be warned

I implied black skies took a needle to my eye
Sucked out all its glow Whoaoh
Molly Connelly ruined my life
I thought the world should know Ho!

I can't stop thinkin bout what she did wrong to me
I can't stop thinkin bout what I did wrong
I kill myself thinkin bout things that you do to me
Molly Connelly

I can't stop thinkin bout what she did wrong to me
I can't stop thinkin bout what I did wrong
I kill myself thinkin bout things that you do to me
Molly Connelly

Patrick said...

They've got the army of ears--they can't hear you now.
I've got the piss in my veins and these furrowed brows.
You've got this one last chance to burn me, turn me down
If not, I've got these last twelve bucks to spend on you.
You can take me anywhere your sick mind wants to.
I'll use your soul to fuel me using you….

Patrick said...

All the words in my mouth that the scene deemed unworthy of letting out banded together
To form a makeshift militia and burrowed bloodily through my tongue and my teeth.
I stood proud in the gallery with my open socket of a mouth for them to see.
They all just laughed and said "That boy , he, that boy's got woe.(woe.) He lives with woe.(woe.)"
And this girl who I met whose pride makes her hard to forget,
She took pity on me (horizontally) but most likely because of my band.(hey)
It's all I can get when I'm lonely and these visions of death seem to own me
In the quiet of the classrooms all across the stacked United States of Woe. We live with woe.
She said "I can't get laid in this town without these pointy fucking shoes.
My feet are so black and blue and so are you."
Please take me out of my body up through the palm trees to smell California in sweet hypocrisy.
Floating. My senses surround my body. I wake my nose to smell that ocean burn.
So now I'm forging ahead past all the plutocrats who sold me out.
Go sob in your bed. If life is twice as pretty once your dead then send me a card.
I'm still the optimist though it is hard when all you want to be is in a dream.

Patrick said...

Passing slowly though the vector
Damp with fog the bog that grows the former business sector
With my laugh, my lone companion.
Only I can save the lives that blink within this canyon
Whoaaa
We're passing slow, passing slow. Slow, Slow
Drink the colors of the night time
If you were wrong then I was right and this will be the right time
I‘ll display my disaffection (you grind me up, yea, you spit me out)
Out across the city
Loud and proud in your direction
Whoaaa
We're passing slow, we're passing slow. Slow, Slow.
Whoaaa
We're passing slow, we're passing slow. Slow, Slow.
But when I get to your apartment I climb the rail outside the building
A band of them were in your apartment
They tied you up unwound, unwilling
I watch them cut, watch them touch, watch them do what they came to do
And in I come to lick it up
Clean up what is left of you
Ha ha ha show me what you got