1. Leydecker (Outlaw Life, Pt. I)
2. Y2K
3. Space Camp
4. Deserted
5. To Infinity
6. St. Matthew’s Cemetery
7. Caesars Palace
8. Athena
9. Eros
10. The Other 49
11. Ditto
12. Outlaw Life, Pt. II
Gliding down roads we don’t know the names of
We left both our phones at home
Is this how Lewis and Clark felt?
Honorary pioneers
The frontier’s out there somewhere
Waiting for us
So let’s kick it in gear
And raise up some dust
West Seneca’s sleeping
But our bikes fly best at night
And as dull as it is in this cul-de-sac
The moon brings it to life
Our spokes are a-gleam with the glow of the streetlights
It’s silent except for the sweet crunch of rubber on asphalt
Pebbles like remoras hitchhiking deep in my treads
And you’re my best friend
Into raised ranches and middle-class split levels
Everyone has gone
So let’s flee like thieves on aluminum steeds
At least until the dawn
These pedals are stirrups
We’re John Wayne and Clint Eastwood
And as dumb as it sounds I feel so content
Suburbia is ours
Now so many years later
I reminisce with just a sliver of sadness
We were blind to the signs, the stagecoaches, the settlers
We thought the wild west would be wild forever
But 16 came and went and I aced both my road tests
And traded these two wheels for four, plus an engine
And it gets me from place to place five times as fast
But I never feel the dew on my face or the wind at my back
I stopped rewinding my VHS rentals weeks ago
Blockbuster called my house, I’ve still got three on loan
I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care
I’m preparing for the last days
The kids at school all say that I’m crazed
I never liked them anyway
They laugh cause I always sport the same cargo pants
But it’s just that I’ve packed all my jeans and my slacks
And my t-shirts, and tube socks and sweaters and scarfs
I can’t predict the climate, but I know CPR
This is how I’ll survive the 90s
This is how I’ll make it out alive
This is how I’ll survive the 90s
This is how I’ll come out still alive
I’ve got 3 suitcases full of non-perishable food goods
Hidden beneath my bed
I can’t wait for the millennium to end
Or for that douchebag on my bus to drop dead
I’ve got 52 weeks worth of meager allowances
Combined with the funds earned from shoveling driveways
Stuffed in a strongbox on the floor of my closet
Where fire or flood can neither burn it nor rot it
This is how I’ll survive being fifteen
The armegeddon holds such brighter days for me
This is how I’ll survive being fifteen
The armegeddon holds such brighter days for me
The end is nigh, as I sigh I can feel it
The apocalypse will hit and I’ll be the only one to deal with it
And heal the world, and witness all my classmates who had cursed me
Turn to dirt beneath my feet, screaming that they’re thirsty
As I sip a big-ass milk jug that I filled with filtered water
Who the hell knew that hell could get any hotter?
Y2K, here I come
I’ve got my N64 and my BB gun
Y2K, here I come
I’ve got my N64 and my BB gun
Y2K, here I come
Nylon jumpsuits caked with grime
Scenery so saccharine
Where rusting rockets go to die
At Space Camp, 1985
Shoot for the stars
A cloying tagline for the sad shrine out in Terra, Vermont
But it was everything one young girl could want
Broken telescopes and space simulations
Her cabin was adjacent to the fake NASA station
Her father made a living charting craters on mars
Her mother studied stories that were sketched in the stars
Cassiopeia, Libra, Gemini
She was named for the sphere shining high in the sky
Luna O’Connor had lobbied all winter
By April her parents retained no resistance
Existence is futile, declared old Polaris
In contrast her pain became microscopic
I can stop this
I can end all the fighting
It’s my fault, we can’t stand, our house is divided
The camp staff was calloused
The director lacked passion
The food tasted worse than an astronaut’s rations
But the girl didn’t mind
She didn’t once whine
She thought plexiglass helmets were bizarrely divine
There’s no signs, but that’s fine
The milky way won’t take sides
Luna marveled at the cosmos and listened to the tide
She laughed and cried at the same time
How can they ask me to decide
Between the man who scans the planets and the woman who gave me life
Holy shit, what was that sound?
I think my car broke down
There’s not a soul around
There’s not a single town within feasible walking distance
The most rational action would be to call for assistance
But my phone died while I was listening to Spotify
And now I’m helpless
I pop the hood
Pretend to know what I’m doing
This is what art school does to the youth of America
In the wastelands of Nevada I play act a mechanic
I blew a gasket
How fucking fantastic
This is just what I need
This is just the bee’s knees
Actually I could use some sweet honey
My hands won’t stop shaking and my tummy is rumbly
Oh bother, Oh brother, Oh father, Oh mother
I love you as much as I love all the others
Smothered by the oppressive desert sun
But night comes and my fingers are freezing and numb
No peace to be found
Surrounded by coyotes
Howling and striding wryly through the Mojave
I’m a prize
I’m a trophy
I’m actually kind of bony
Can’t you fellas see I don’t have much meat on me?
You can’t reason with a killer
I was the runt of my litter
Now I’m dinner for some hungry young pups
Getting thinner by the hour
I wave my torch like I’m suffering a seizure
I’ll teach these beasts to fear us creatures!
This is America, not Samaria
And it’s quite evident by the looks that I get
I must have deserved this turn of events
“Take some personal responsibility!”
A man screams at me through the window of a 1953 Lamborghini
It rolls on by as the shimmer of his bumper sticker blinds both my eyes
Make America Great Again
Hell-bent on something
I’m not sure what
I upchuck what little food’s left in my gut
As two guys in a rusted old pick-up truck
Plastered with the confederate flag roll up
They’re sporting the symptoms of second amendment pride
Is this how all the pretty young yankee boys die?
I must have come across as terrified
One laughs himself silly, the others got kind eyes
He says, “Hey man, it looks like you could use a ride”
I say, “You know what? You’re goddamn right.”
The enemy of my enemy is still my enemy
The enemy of my enemy’s enemy is still my enemy
The enemy of my enemy’s enemy’s enemy is still my enemy
And it’s looking more and more like the whole world is against me
Glass jars filled with insects
Spill out silken light
You and I go walking
In the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
We stumble onto dry bones
Witness a fresh kill
A fox feeds her five babies
In the crevice of a hill
In the crevice of a hill
In the crevice of a hill
In the crevice of a hill
An old doe has a hole in her hide where maggots become flies
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen all night
It reminds me of the time
I saw a fawn in Saint Matthew’s Cemetery at dawn
I saw a fawn in Saint Matthew’s Cemetery at dawn
I saw a fawn in Saint Matthew’s Cemetery at dawn
She ate flowers that family members had left behind
She found refuge beneath dead trees that teemed with life
She looked at me with a hesitant skepticism
And I crumbled like a bug sprayed with pesticide
My eyes closed, I laid by the gravestones for a while
As my staged grief turned from acceptance to denial
A smile danced across my face
I couldn’t tell if it was out of place or in the right one
I couldn’t tell if I was being tormented or having fun
I couldn’t tell if I wanted to stay still or run and run and run
I suppose it was both at once
Like a shotgun blast to the gut leaving buckshot in my lungs
She ate flowers that family members had left behind
She found refuge beneath dead trees that teemed with life
She looked at me with a hesitant skepticism
And I froze like a deer in headlights
Bad luck finds us in bright casinos far from home
We win once and it’s enough to keep us going all night long
Bad luck calls us
We fall into its warm grasp
All in by dawn
Our troubles remain but our money’s long gone
Our love is a gamble
We both know it’s true
Our love is a five wheel slot machine
And there’s nothing either one of us can do
Bad luck finds us in bright casinos far from home
It hitchhikes northeast
Sneaks beneath the crack of our door
Javelins drawn at record speed
In our coliseum bedroom where we make each other bleed
Roll the dice one last time
Watch and wait as chance decides
Our love is a gamble
We both know it’s true
Our love is a whirling roulette wheel
And there’s not a thing that you or I can do
Bad luck haunts us
Steel-faced spirit that I’ve never seen
Like hackneyed reality TV shows that hunt for ghosts
Bad luck haunts us
Like poor excuses used to fold
Real gold in reach
Take my hand, swear you’ll hold
Our love is a gamble
We knew the odds from the start
But I’ll learn to how to count the cards
And I’ll play inside the Vegas of your heart
Our love is a gamble
We knew the odds from the start
But I’ll learn to how to count the cards
And I’ll play inside the Vegas of your heart
“The grass is so much greyer on the other side of the fence”
Said the doe-eyed young Dachshund
Snout sticking through the chain links
“That bitch gets white meat chicken, while I get kibbles and bits”
So she dug a ditch deep enough to fit under her prison walls
Kept her wits about her and crawled and crawled and crawled
And sprawled out on the neighbor’s yard
Her paws were raw but she felt so proud
From her mouth the howling sound of victory rang out clear and loud
Till her mother and her master caught her leg over the mastiff’s planter
God damn those bastards
I didn’t ask to be here
I didn’t ask to be here
I didn’t ask to be here
I didn’t ask to be here
Square jawed
Outlaw
I never saw
You draw
I’d not walked five paces before
You turned
I heard a gun go off
Gasoline is cheap, let’s go find the real America
Eat apple pie in diners and parade through barren fairgrounds
If I don’t leave the rust belt, man, I swear I’ll go hysterical
Let’s max out this odometer and find the real America
Though I meant to be content within the state that I reside
I cannot help but find the other forty-nine on my mind
The wine-dark grass of the prairie
The silhouette of plows at sunset
10 acre orchards filled with nothing but cherries
A dazzling scent you could never forget
This is the real, this is the real, this is the real America
This is the real, this is the real, this is the real America
This is the real, this is the real, this is the real America
It’s just my luck to have grown up on Niagara Falls, where rapids bind
I’m out to find the other forty-nine where sunshine never dies
D.C. holds our history
Florida’s got the glades
And Disney World and pretty girls who wear short shorts everyday
The West Coast has the best roast
New England towns are so profound
I’m not sure what happens in Utah but I’d sure like to find out
The West Coast suffers earthquakes
New England towns think they’re profound
I drove through central Utah and all I saw were cows
Our capitol is staffed with crooks
The bible belt believes in tomes
Florida’s swarming with decrepit old folks in retirement homes
Hey, where’d all the bison go?
Hey, where’d all the bison go?
Hey, where’d all the bison go?
Hey, where’d all the bison go?
I want to go home
There is no real, there is no real, there is no real America
There is no real, there is no real, there is no real America
There is no great, idealized state that will liberate your heart
Don’t wait to start living, just create art wherever you are
Don’t wait to start living, just create art wherever you are
“L” is for “Largo”
Me and Margo Pavone
Spent the Summer listening to the Smiths on vinyl
And she swore it sounded better
But I still prefer my CDs
Ripped to 320 mp3
Don’t give me FLAC, man
I haven’t the time or space for that
Every person I adore grinds me down a little more
I was born with 33, August left me 24
“P” is for “Presto”
Me and Ernesto Coruja
Spent the Autumn reading Oscar Wilde
And he swore it felt better to correct all my grammar
His crimson ink quelled my innocent manner
But I silently dissented
Words don’t snap just cause they’re bended
Just cause they’re bent
I began with 24, the harvest stole another nine
You made me in your image but I still don’t feel divine
“G” is for “Grave”
J. B. Perroquet and I
Spent the Winter wandering through snow-laden graveyards
And he swore it felt better to contemplate mortality
Cause frostbite is more real than sunburn could ever be
I indulged
His collegiate concepts stung my skull
December froze and shattered my remaining 15 ridges
And by Valentine’s I had no spine to speak of
There’s no hope for next year
“C” is for “Coda”
Matilda Nachash and I
Spent the springtime snorting coke and smoking
And she swore it felt better than the clutches of anxiety
Until we both OD’ed
Beneath the High School’s apple tree
Her father found both our bodies
We drank from IV’s for the next week
Ain’t that bittersweet
Ain’t that bittersweet
I’m losing touch
I lack a backbone
A pink mass of flesh
Number 132 in your Pokedex
And what’s more I conform to all that I adore
Contort myself into a grotesque figure writhing on the floor
Transform into a discount amalgamation of everything I’ve ever seen
Believe all that’s before me and
Raise my gaze skyward to read guillibe on the ceiling
Overwhelmed by my feelings
And disparate thoughts of what I’ve been taught
I’m healing
But shedding skin takes pulling and peeling
Let’s blow this town
New York doesn’t seem so new
Since I met you
Since I met you
Let’s burn it down
Turn Ithaca to Rome
We can’t go back home
We can’t go back home
I haven’t taken out these contacts for three days
We haven’t left this interstate for two
I don’t know about you
But I could sure use some food
All the shittiest American towns are named after places in Europe
That we will never visit
It’s intrinsically horrific
It’s not like we went and killed a man
But what we did, yeah, well it was still pretty bad
It was still pretty bad
It’s not like we went and shot a guy
But what we did, yeah, well it still keeps me up at night
It still keeps me up at night
We stop at a diner Coeur d’Alene
Order three-quarters of the menu
Does disappointment feel like heartburn
In the bathroom of a greasy spoon
All the shittiest American towns are named after places in Europe
That we will never visit
It’s intrinsically horrific
All the dingiest American towns still retain their names
From the people who were conquered
What a prestigious honor
It’s not like we decapitated senior citizens
But what we did, yeah, well it was not a good thing
It was not a good thing
It’s not like we murdered kids for fun
But what we did, yeah, well it still keeps us on the run
It still keeps us on the run
I thought the outlaw life would be more romantic (more romantic)
I had a change of heart, but no change of clothes
I thought the outlaw life would be more romantic (more romantic)
But this morning as I was pissing in a half-empty red bull can I decided there’s more cons than pros
There’s more cons than pros
I thought the outlaw life would be more romantic (more romantic)
I had a change of heart, but no change of clothes
I always thought the outlaw life would be more romantic (more romantic)
But today I tallied up the things that I will leave behind and decided there’s more cons than pros
There’s more cons than pros
More romantic
More romantic
More romantic
More romantic