Hot Water Music lyrics
Album: A Flight and a Crash 
|A Flight and a Crash|
Here's one of time passed of a flight and a crash, over and again,|
In Boulder and San Francisco, a halfway house pack home
Back out of his head.
Out searching, for the escape.
for an answer, or a reason that his poison has deleted,
Anything worth all that's wasted now,
finds no difference where he's standing
'cause he's standing with a shotgun and a needle.
Arms reaching and head pounding from the screaming.
Says: "I don't know what I am doing anymore.
I raced all night again, I just want it over."
Head pounding from the screaming.
Heart racing now
|Jack of All Trades|
Give me a reason not to lash out,|
because I don't see much reason now I want to banish frauds, slay unruly sods.
Since false idol gods have nothing figured out
Nothing at all
So you've got a tale to tell,
Well how about something real? feel free and stifle someone.
Go on and belittle someone as well.
Or but fucker yeah you'll get yours
So fill up your pockets, and watch them swell.
You could be no one, an inconsiderate bastard son.
Kiss your smile goodbye.
Kiss it all goodbye.
Send me up and give me magazine copies of open spaces,|
and open ends distant, diverted from the medicine,
and our own ends that we're seeing.
White white walls and hospitals,
all of us feel trivial and relative, tentative and waiting
for our own white white walls and hospitals,
all of us feel trivial and paper thin, tentative and waiting.
For just another day of no answers,
and no promises in the nighttime,
but in the meantime fucking hospitals and medicine
stand towering and cold and pallid.
Send me up into the towering hospitals and their medicine
Cut into the gut of distorted rotten lies you find.|
Pull them inside out drowning them with haste in mind.
Arm yourself with retrospect and cut into the face through its deceiving eyes.
Dissect and pull it out for the spotlight to advertise another glance of another war.
The finest hour has stayed unknown,|
that's not to say it hasn't shown all its torments.
But that's okay.
It we ever get clear then that's enough, my dear, to let it strip away.
And there are cold symbols of all good moments,
hanging on, waiting for recognition.
But that's okay.
If we ever get clear then that's enough, my dear, to put them in their place.
I'm down in all that never happened.
Am I up in ail that's happening because
I'll ride this one out until the end.
Lick our wounds and sew them all shut,
draw them tight, swallow pride, and if that's not enough...
|A Clear Line|
Do you know what you're fighting for?|
Have you the burn of the aching for something different, something spiritually
Understood in every way.
Hard face, no shine, hard heart with a narrow mind.
Blank and shallow, lacking color,
lacking faith that there is another way to live,
way to breathe, way to walk, a way to see.
Not in alliance, but in defiance of the hatred we're taught to breed.
I see a clear line drawn, a generation that's gone wrong.
Have you found what you're looking for?
Have you the burn or the lack there of, for something different,
something you're meant to be?
go you know what you're looking for?
I see a clear line drawn, a generation all gone wrong.
I see a back that's turned to what we're searching for.
What you're taught and what we're beckoned to is not absolute,
so why follow what we don't know?
You are your own, weighted and balancing,
judgement of truth when the ego is let go.
|Choked and Separated|
I'm sick of standing with my hands in my pockets, I'm coming in.|
Been broke down, choked out, not speaking, not breathing in.
Are we gonna fix it?
When are we gonna start?
If it's really too late, I guess I'm looking back.
If it's really just time, you can have all of it.
If that's where we think straight,
I'll do anything to keep us from feeling choked and separated.
'Cause it's all the same things again and again.
fall down, repeat, fall down, keep falling down.
Is this what we're doing?
What are we doing? fall down, and repeat, fall down, keep falling.
Pots over gas flames.
Still in a haze.
Not walking dead, but alive and I'm fed.
Still hungry for more.
'Cause before I wake again, I toss and I turn again and again.
With something calling me, maybe a conscience, maybe that dream of something more,
well beyond the folklore that failed to be something real solid or still something real solid
or still to ground me with instinct to feel before
I think and think before I know.
Know before I act, act before I grow.
In control, with fear ail hold.
Cutting me loose from old rules.
|Sons and Daughters|
Now unfortunate that it has come to this,|
where we all pay to die as rogues, as workers,
nomads and searchers, sweat to shackles and leads to lies.
Still we're all under lock and key, who are we hot savages hooked an accessories,
numb and dumb to what else we could do of be.
Repercussion is at a lull, slow me down, let me come around to these starving in the streets,
some are mothers, some are fathers, all are sons, all are daughters,
left all alone and seen as disease.
Still we pass and we watch them bleed,
will not wash away with rain, a person's blood is heavier than who's the disease?
Shut me I've done you wrong,|
mocked you and broke your home,
carried an as a king to a throne, and I know, I loathed.
Yet I've reconciled my faith with no way to explain where it comes from.
Heard out suspicious ways,
and forwent the drowning pain, and I've bad mine
Sunday suit never fit quite right, maybe why I never saw your light,
fear had its grip tot quite sometime, so I obeyed and tied.
Listen don't bear this wrong, you've taught me what I know,
and though I'm not what you want,
I've found peace an my own.
Sunday suit never fit quite right, maybe why I left
Siddhartha style, I choose a path of open minds,
am I damned for it?
I know the evils of mankind and I keep far from them.
Do all I can to grow inside. Judge me for that.
|She Takes It So Well|
I've spent lifetimes waiting. let thousands go to wherever's needed|
Heard the secrets told, and she takes it so well,
and she drinks it with no sugar or tears, and the door is closed.
My throat is bleeding and all these wants have burned,
and I have only turned only fell right through.
And she takes it so well, like this never was.
Like never problems, never solutions.
|One More Time|
Last night, laid down and couldn't sleep.|
All overload crashing down through me.
Another clouded examination of where the course slipped, where it failed.
But all the old things are like they where before, one more time.
All the same things ale lying on the floor, one more time.
Through all this time there's been changes
Through all this time, how have I returned?
Another one lost in his questions when all the answers are staring at me.
All the old things are like they were before one more time
All the same things are lying air the floor, one more time.
Don't short it down before the rise one more time.
Don't pull it under, smother it all, one more time.
I'm not sinking, not going under with the regrets
and what has been around my neck,
pulling from under the waters that I've been in.
|In the Gray|
I'm suspended now, hanging in the aiay of a weather beaten town|
December rolls around, lays a blanket of herself on the ground where comfort lives in sound,
like a gun laying cold on the ground with no way to spell it out.
there's still much to say of a gun left down.
Most of me is elsewhere wondering shall we hear a song or shall we live one soaked to the hone.
I'm suspended now, hanging in the gray of a weather heavy cloud, soften my face
and bow to bid toy farewells to the ground for now part of me is sinking and pondering,
hope is a gracious term, aligned with the faith that reason has a course to take,
may it be the just one until then I will drown, anti to down without a fit.
How glorious is it?
Bound in sound, even and weightless and free from wrist to wrist
|Call It Trashing|
Something react with a shake and a bang to resurrect a dead beat,|
rhythm of a slant and a pose of chivalry that's far front its best,
so over-rated, so bits and pieces, accelerated, and so deceiving.
Mark it up with the made up, make it up on the side,
drag through shoulders to the wheel of alluring and baited lies.
Wait, it's all sounding the same.
Rehashed beats and
Leak downs, surround and take the diversity away
and make it all feel stale and vacant.
Wait, it's all sounding the same.
It's all charades and shadows
Call it trashing